#probably because i finish writing these at 3 AM

[always-just-red]

hii! i have a request!

the mc/reader has a pet cat and adores cats so rafayel will have to accept that his beloved bride has a furry little companion bc them and the cat are a 2 for 1 deal and the cat is basically their baby and there’ll alway probably be a cat in the home forever

ty!! adore ur writing!

Aww thank you anon!! As a devoted cat-person, I'm THRILLED to finally be sharing my vision of cat-dad Raf. 🙂‍↕️ This fic felt so personal in the end, I swear I can't write Raf without it accidentally becoming this window into all the intimacy I want but don't have 😭 Anyway!!! Dedicating this to my babies, Floof and Velcro!

Cat-Sitting

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: Was it really a good idea to leave Rafayel and your cat unsupervised?

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship

| Word count: 2.5k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Captain Jenna indicates the large, glass monitor behind her— a finger dragging across it, zooming in on a smaller section of the virtual map. “There’s been an insurgence of Wanderer activity here, and—” another swipe of her finger— “here, so we’ll be increasing patrols in these districts. While public safety remains the priority, we should be investigating any unusual fluctuations of…”

You’re so, so tired. Your chin is resting on your hand and your leader’s briefing is starting to sound like a bedtime story. Sat beside you, Xavier is looking similarly uninspired. The blue of his eyes is glazing over. His eyelids are drooping. When he blinks, it’s slow and unfocused.

Your phone buzzes and it feels like you’ve been doused in cold water; your heart jumps. Glancing around, thankfully no-one but Xavier noticed. His gaze flits over to you with lazy interest as you reach into your pocket, checking your phone under the table. It’s a text from Rafayel: your cat is broken??

You frown, ever so slightly. Before your mind has any time to run away with that ominous message, another notification comes through:

[Silly fish <3 has sent an image]

With one more furtive check that no-one’s watching, you tap at the screen, opening up your messages. You squint down at the photo. It’s your cat, perched on the arm of your sofa. She looks perfectly content, and decidedly unbroken.

Rafayel texts: it had legs before, right?

Again: where

And again: where are they???

You have to consciously hold back your smile. Your cat’s legs are tucked away underneath her; you can’t see them in the photo. ‘Loaf’, you surreptitiously text back.

Rafayel responds: ???????????

You close your phone as more messages come through. You don’t have to read them to know it’s the same emoji, over and over: artsy birb, lying in a puddle of tears. You’ve silenced your phone so it no longer buzzes. Jenna is drawing patrol routes on her map. Xavier leans over to you, whispering: “How’s the first-time cat-sitter?”

Without saying a word, you move your phone under the table so he can sneak a peek at it. There are now twenty-three unread messages. Twenty-four. Twenty-five.

Xavier chuckles under his breath, and this time, you can’t help but smile. Jenna turns, locking both of you in a steely-grey stare. Xavier gives her a grin, and you give her a double thumbs-up. With a sigh, she goes back to her presentation.

…

“So I said, ‘what am I supposed to do? Not kill the Wanderer? Y’know, the Wanderer tearing its way through a street full of people— just because it’s a tiiiiny bit different than normal?’ And get this! He says, ‘yes.’ He says, ‘you should have taken some time to study it, brought me data and samples.’ Can you believe that?”

You laugh quietly as you finish up typing your latest report. You can believe that, actually. If a Wanderer broke in through the window of this building right here, right now, you’re pretty sure Nero would be sat with a clipboard, taking notes. “C’mon, what did you expect?”

“Uh… some empathy, maybe?” your colleague frowns.

“Yeah, that’ll be the day.” Your phone rings in your pocket, and you whip it out with business-like efficiency. You’re on autopilot. “Hello?” you ask, opening up the next set of gloriously exciting blank text boxes on your screen.

“Cutie!”

It’s basically a yell. You narrow your eyes at your monitor, inputting your name, your badge number. “Raf,” you return apathetically. “What’s up?”

“Code red. Code red!”

“Mmhmm?” You don’t know what that means.

“You have to come home. Right now. It’s an emergency!”

“Is it, though?” Your keyboard clacks, only stopping when you have to check today’s date before filling it out on your form.

“Are you even listening? I said code red. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Yup! Gold star for Rafayel.”

“Seriously?! I’m trying to tell you that your precious little angel’s in trouble.”

Was that supposed to be your voice? You don’t sound like that. “I’m sorry you’re in trouble, Raf.”

“No!” he squeaks. “Not me! The— oh for the love of the ocean, the lobsters, the sharks and the crabs— can you just get here? Please?!”

For the love of all of those things, hmm? You chuckle. “Okay, okay. I’m on my way. Hang in there. Okay, angel? Little angel fishie. Ooh! Angelfish!”

There’s silence from the other end. “…You done?”

You hit enter on your keyboard. “Please, we both know you’re blushing right now.”

…

You stand at the door of your apartment— home early from work, courtesy of the old ‘family emergency!’ card. It’s sort of nice, honestly; you can’t remember the last time you got to play it. Family emergency… You think of you and Rafayel, your little cat, and Reddie. There’s a warm feeling in your heart as you open the door.

That feeling is gone when Rafayel snatches you by your arm.

“Quick,” he says, dragging you towards the lounge, “quick, quick, quick!”

No ‘welcome home’ kiss means something’s wrong. Actually wrong. Your bag tumbles from your shoulder; you have to skirt around the coffee table to keep from crashing into it. “Whoa,” you mumble, “Raf, slow down. What happened? Tell me what happened.”

“Look!”

At last, your arm is released. Your heart is in your throat as you do look, and—

You’ve got to be kidding.

Your cat has moved from the arm of the couch, but she didn’t make it far. She’s snuggled up like an adorable croissant— one paw over her face. You realise, fairly quickly, that the ‘emergency’ lies in what she’s found a nest in: a crumpled heap with a criss-cross pattern. Cream, navy, and red wool, all squished up beneath her. It’s Rafayel’s cardigan.

“Aww!” you coo.

“Aww?” Rafayel echoes. “That’s all you have to say— aww?”

You’re not listening. You crouch down beside the couch, leaning in close. “Hi baby,” you coo again, tickling at your cat’s paw gently. She lifts it, one eye half-opening. You smile, and the eye widens more— filling with your reflection. “Has the big, bad fishie been bullying you today?”

She makes a tiny chirp as she stretches her front legs.

“That’s a lie!” Rafayel snaps.

“Oh no!” you sympathise— pointedly not with the man behind you. “What did he do, huh? This is a safe space. You can tell me.”

Both of your cat’s eyes are open now, still heavy with sleep. She speaks back to you: matching your tone with a soft-spoken meow.

“I see,” you tut, nodding. “And then what?”

She meows again. You gasp.

Suddenly, Rafayel is on his knees beside you, jabbing a finger towards her face. “You traitor! We had a deal.”

Your cat stares at the finger. Yawns— briefly an eldritch horror: all sharp, shining teeth— before curling a paw over it. Rafayel goes still. His eyes shine with the quiet panic you see when you brush a hair away from his forehead, or sweep a tear from his cheek with your thumb. It’s so soft; he doesn’t know what to do with it. You smile knowingly. He sees you and clears his throat, his hand slinking back.

“Okay,” he mutters to himself, “I have an idea. Lemme just…”

He pinches an edge of the cardigan. “What’re you doing?” you ask.

“You ever seen that magic trick? With the tablecloth? I’ve just gotta…”

“No!”

He’s biting back a grin as he adds: “But if I’m fast enough—”

“No, Raf!” you giggle as you intercept him. He laughs in a small, genuine way too, his hands shooting back to the cardigan every time you manage to wrestle them off of it. You have to pry at his fingers. Catch them before he sends your cat on an unscheduled flight across your apartment.

Inches away, she watches your scrabbling hands, completely unperturbed. When Rafayel gives up— his fingers relaxing in their tangle with yours, his laughter dwindling— she blinks drowsily.

Time feels slower, and somehow forgiving. You lay your head down on the sofa. “Do you really want your cardigan back?” you murmur, because your cat is asleep again.

Rafayel slumps, mirroring you as he pulls your hand close to his lips. “Nah.” His voice is like warm, orange light, and he kisses the tip of your forefinger. “It’s okay. What’s mine is yours, cutie. And what’s yours is—” he falters, looking towards the bundle of fur beside you.

You hum appreciatively, letting him plant one, two more kisses before you pull your hand away. “Wait here,” you breathe, pushing yourself back up onto your feet.

One expedition to the kitchen later, you return with a small bag of treats. You find your previous seat on the floor, then reach into the bag— pulling out a small, fish-shaped biscuit. “Look,” you chuckle, wiggling it through the air like it’s swimming, “it’s you.”

“Ha, ha.” Rafayel rolls his eyes, cheek still squished against the couch.

He needs more convincing, so you make the fish swim in his direction, stopping just short of his nose. It floats patiently before him, persisting even when his face wrinkles. You wiggle it one way. Then the other. This earns you another eyeroll, but he does at least smile.

You flick the fish over to your cat. She’s awake in an instant, mouth snatching it up: teeth splintering it with a crack. You swear you see the colour leave Rafayel’s face. You hand him the bag of treats, and with a pout, he starts to set up a trail of them: leading across the sofa. There’s a mournful sigh for each he lays down. Even the odd, whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Give it a rest, will you?” you huff. “I watched you eat an entire seafood platter last night.”

He narrows his eyes at you, holding your gaze as he puts the next treat down deliberately slowly. Behind him, your cat has stood, stretched, and is now pottering along, crunching away without a care in the world. Rafayel reaches for his cardigan, giving it a shake before threading his arms through the sleeves.

When the crunching stops, he turns— another treat caught between two of his fingers. Your cat takes it carefully, delicately, and she chirps as those same fingers tickle the top of her head. A contented purr underscores the moment. Rafayel smiles as he plays with her ears.

Then he catches you watching him, your eyebrow raised. “What?” he asks self-consciously.

You scoff. “Code red my ass.”

…

Rafayel doesn’t really know when you fell asleep.

Your head is on his shoulder, and his pencil moves mindfully slowly: a quiet scratch, scratch as it waltzes over his sketchbook. The room has gone dark. Tangerine light has stopped spilling from the windows, and he can’t reach any light switch, so he settles for the bleedings of the TV. Cool blues. Pale greens. The space around him flickers, and there are voices, too: broadcasters, droning on.

He hears it, even though he’s trying not to. “Another Wanderer attack”, they report. “Indicative of a recent, worrying insurgence of incidents.” Updated statistics. Civilian casualties. Hunter casualties.

Rafayel’s pencil has stopped. After a moment, he sighs— pressing a kiss to the top of your head you don’t feel, and will never know the weight of. He forces himself to look back down. Draw the shapes and the lines of the things that distract him from that feeling in his chest.

Someone is watching him.

His gaze wanders up, finding eyes across the room. Your cat is studying him from afar, sat with her tail curled neatly around her paws. He pokes his tongue out at her. She chirps back. He returns to his sketches, and half a minute later, she lands on the arm of the couch beside him, having pounced gracefully up. She doesn’t deserve any more of his attention. His pencil moves up and down, up and down, and she’s transfixed by the end of it. She lifts a paw, and—

“Nuh uh,” Rafayel warns, his eyes still on the page.

The paw waits. Rafayel chuckles. He raises the pencil, waggling it in the air between them, and her pupils go wide as she bats at it. With one sweep, she brings it closer to her mouth— bites down. Crunch.

Rafayel tuts: “Monster.”

Thankfully, she’s soon bored by the game. She sits, watching him expectantly, like he must have another one lined up for her. He doesn’t, so he turns his sketchbook towards her instead.

“What d’you think, little co-conspirator?”

The page is full of sketches, mostly of you. There’s one of you sat at your kitchen island, sipping some tea and looking like you wished you were back in bed; your hair was a mess. There’s also Reddie: soft, flowy lines and shimmering, monochrome scales. In one corner, your cat is sleeping with her legs tucked underneath her. ‘Loaf’ he’s written next to it, with a crude, tiny sketch of some bread.

Your cat isn’t looking; she’s staring past the page, at the real you. With a half-formed meow, she leaps onto his legs, making a beeline for yours. “Nope!” he says, blocking her path with the sketchbook. “Sorry, kitty, but our brave hunter needs to rest.”

She tries to get past him, but for her every movement, his sketchbook moves too: always one step ahead. With another, more indignant meow, she starts to tread circles on his lap. Then she kneads at his leg, claws sinking in. “Monster,” he whispers again, drawing air through his teeth. “Relax, will you? Jeez.”

His thighs are still being treated like pincushions, so he lifts her gently, his other hand reaching behind him. He knows what she wants. His cardigan is draped over the back of the sofa, and he drags it onto his lap—straightening it out as he grumbles, “this is extortion, you know.”

The cat is lowered back down, and she curls up in the wool of his cardigan, like that had always been the plan. A purr begins to rumble, deepening as Rafayel pets at her head, running fingers— aching from sketching— through the warmth of her fur. Her eyes are sleepy. Rafayel yawns, his head drooping to rest against yours.

His fingers move mindlessly, enjoying the softness while the television talks of tragedy, and he doesn’t notice.

[imaginesleeping]

I return back with a NEW request. This time i am NOT feeling like a freakaleak so consider sevikaxreader and the reader is struggling at uni and sevika uses a reward system (kisses) to help her study(i just want this to be fluff i swearrr) thank you, love you <3

The Kissing System

authors note: anon I love your brain. I’m sure this would’ve been better closer to when you requested lol - however, I’ve had to do a lot of math this semester, so please enjoy reader crashing out over my personal problems

also don’t mind any mistakes it’s 1am and I’m writing this instead of sleeping 🙏

-

Sevika is making dinner while you’re sitting at the small dining table, a confused look painting your face for what has felt like hours as you look back and forth between your papers and computer screen. Sevika chuckles quietly from her spot at the stove at the sight before turning the heat to low under the pot and making her way over to you.

“What’s gotcha lookin’ all constipated over here?”

You look up at her and loudly sigh

“Because I don’t remember what a fucking parabola is and I have a whole sheet to fill out and all of the lessons I’m looking back on are boring as fuck and I can’t focus and I-“

She cuts you off with a kiss

“fucking hate math.” You finish quietly against her lips, making both of you smile.

“How can I help, baby?” Sev says while looking down at your papers with you as she plants a kiss in your hair.

“Go back in time to whenever some fucker created graphs and kill ‘em.”

Sevika contemplates for a few seconds before humming.

“What if, every time you get a problem right I’ll give you a kiss?” She says with a raised eyebrow.

You copy her expression, a smile slowly creeping up on your face. You narrow your eyes at her, slightly upset that she hasn’t agreed to the whole time travel thing, but you’ll let it go for now.

“Tempting…I’ll do it.”

-

Suddenly, you got this wave of motivation to understand and figure these answers out. As Sev makes her way back to the kitchen to continue cooking, you get to work. Yes, you had about 3 pages left to fill out, but now there was an actual reason to be doing this shit.

When you check the first problem you did and it’s right, you let out a “thank fuck” before leaning back in your chair and calling over to Sevika.

“Get over here, babe. I didn’t do this shit for nothin”

She laughs before jogging over to you and kissing you. You hold her face in your hand as you try to keep her there, but she pulls away after a small peck.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, doll” She says before walking away, leaving the smile you just had to drop. You huff and give her back a grumpy look before going back to the paper.

She continued her short, soft kisses for the next two pages, and it was driving you insane. It probably helped as you were practically growing desperate for more every time her lips left yours, making you work quicker.

You finish your last equation, which of course was the hardest and took the most time, and slammed your laptop shut before frantically making your way into your shared kitchen to plant a big one on Sevika. Her eyes widened at the speed at which you came to her, but she quickly closed them and matched your pace. After a few moments you pulled away with a smile and a breath of relief.

“I take it my reward system helped?”

You laughed as you nodded l and held her. You felt your body finally relax for the first time tonight. Looking over, you saw the prepared food sitting on the counter, already served and ready in two bowls for you and Sev to eat.

“The smell of the food was pretty nice too. Let’s eat.”

-

hope you enjoyedddd ❤️

[miss-canon-event]

Lessons of the Heart (Ch.2) 📚💖

Chapter 2: Little do you Know

Single Dad!Miguel x Teacher!FReader

Summary: Being a father is not easy, and even less so when he is single. This is Miguel O'Hara's life, who has raised his daughter Gabriella alone after her mother's abandonment. Everything has been extremely difficult and challenging, especially now that they have to start over in a new neighborhood. Miguel barely has time for anything else besides his daughter and his job… everything changes a bit when he meets his daughter's teacher: you.

CW: different POV, mentions of bullying and xenophobia, mild angst, sad children, blaming, mentions of OF, Miguel is kinda shitty, not use of Y/N, only a last name, mentions of nudity. (Let me know if I forgot something, pls)

Divider by: @cinemabeans

A/N: Finally, after long weeks I am able to bring you the update of my crazy fanfic. A thousand thanks to all the people who commented, reposted and most of all, interacted <3 it means a lot to me that you've been so kind to me. I was scared to death and anxious, but I know I count on very nice people to bring this idea forward that little by little is taking shape hehe. Take care and see you next time!

As always, thanks a lot to @miss-tarja , who had been helping me to improve and also, she has giving me advice in order to be a better writer and oc, to keep writing this fanfic 💚

The long hallway felt longer and colder than it really was. Both girls felt as if the floor might disappear beneath their feet.

How many children get sent to the principal’s office on their first day of school? Many.

But because of a fight? Very few.

Gabriella and Emily kept their little hands intertwined, as if they were walking through a dark and cold place, and their only light was each other.

Her brown eyes stared at Emily, who walked while looking down at her feet. Then, she looked at your back — your ponytail swinging rhythmically with your steps.

You hadn't been cruel or cold. However, the girls needed to explain themselves. They probably deserved a small "punishment," just like the other 5th grade children.

Finally, they reached the huge door with a sign that read "PRINCIPAL".

Gabriella swallowed hard and squeezed Emily’s hand again — and Emily did the same.

His leg bounced the whole day. Since Miguel was called by a woman from Gabriella's school, he hadn't felt calm.

He had spilled his mug of coffee over the desk by accident. He had missed his lunch time.

It was incredible how nervous and upset he was. 

"Your daughter was in the middle of a slight bullying incident."

"We need to have a word once the classes are done."

Those were the words he could remember from that calling. Probably the principal or a secretary.

He took a deep breath and looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost time and Gabriella will finish her classes for today and he must go for her. 

But now... his priority is to find out what happened. Why was Gabriella taken to the principal's office on her first day at school?

“Canija…”

Miguel mumbled and while he turned off his computer, he gathered his belongings.

The road towards the school had been eternal, but he was almost there. Miguel saw the huge building from afar and the many parents waiting for their children. He parked his car and with firm steps, Miguel walked to school.

He didn’t know why he was so worried.

He was afraid of failing as a father.

It was threatening for him thinking that perhaps he wasn’t “perfect” as people at college or in his old job claimed.

Slapping himself mentally, he decided to push all those insecure thoughts out for now and focus entirely on seeing what mess his daughter had gotten herself into.

With the help of the receptionist, who escorted him to the office, Miguel entered a large, well-lit room. At first glance, it didn’t look like a traditional office. It was more like a common room divided by cubicles. In one corner, there was a small table with several chairs around it, probably used for quick meetings or students to wait. Near the back, there was a cubicle a little larger than the rest, with a neat desk and, on the wall behind it, the school’s emblem hung proudly.

Inside that room were several adults, who appeared to be the parents or caregivers of the other children involved. However, that was the least of Miguel’s concern at the moment.

Miguel just wanted to know how Gabriella was and what had happened.

“Papito…” 

Gabriella’s soft, trembling voice reached his ears. The girl, together with another little girl with braided hair, was sitting on a bench.

Miguel walked steadily towards them, feeling the judgmental stares of the adults present.

“Gabi, what happened?”

“Papito, I swear it wasn’t my intention-”

“Gabriella, you know we don't keep secrets not lie to each other. I need you to tell me why I'm being called here." his voice was severe and soft at the same time.

“Papito, yo-”

“It’s your first day of school, Gabriella”

“I know, dad. But… they started to mess with me. They told me I was a spic… and then they started to mess with Emily too.

Miguel looked at the girl with braids. Her freckled cheeks were red, as were her eyes. He also noticed that she and Gabriella were holding hands.

Then everything started to fall into place…

But something kept bothering him. Where were the adults? The teachers? Why didn’t anyone intervene before those children insulted both girls? There were supposed to be teachers watching, responsible adults taking care that the children didn’t get into trouble.

Trying to remain calm, he turned his focus back to his daughter.

“¿Le dijiste a tus profesores?”

Gabriella nodded.

“Si, pero la directora dijo que no había sido la manera…”

Miguel sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and nodded.

He hadn’t liked that call from the school staff one bit.

“Thank you for coming here, dear parents," said the principal—a tall, slender woman with sharp gray eyes and short, straight hair. She was a very elegant woman. “As we explained by phone, your children were involved in a bullying incident, which we cannot tolerate. It was only the first day of school, and the children were already displaying inappropriate behavior."

The parents were there with their respective children.

Even you were present, perhaps to give your point of view on what had happened.

“According to our teacher, Miss Hayes, she witnessed Miss O'Hara pushing young Davis. Miss Veronica was going to respond, but she intervened.” the woman read the report she had written previously that meeting.

Miguel felt his blood boil and tightened his grip slightly on Gabriella's shoulders. But he wasn't angry at her—he was angry at that teacher.

“However," the woman continued, “according to Emily's testimony, they were sitting quietly when Daniel Davis and company came over to bother them and said very mean things. Is that correct, Emily?”

The little girl with braids nodded.

“Very well," the principal said, placing the document report on her desk.

“While we don't tolerate bullying in any form, we will also not accept offensive or xenophobic comments.”

A blonde woman sitting next to the girl Veronica interrupted.

“Excuse me, Principal. You know how children are. They're at an age where they experiment and… well, being around children who are different from us… tends to—"

“Mrs. Clark..." you said in a tone that clearly meant “Watch what you're about to say.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Clark. Xenophobic comments are not just childish behavior. And I repeat, it is something we will not tolerate.”

The blonde woman fell silent, though her eyes showed she wanted to say more.

“As you know, this can't go unpunished. According to our rules, this is grounds for temporary suspension.”

The children looked at one another, and Gabriella and Emily did the same.

“However, since it's the first day of classes, we've decided they will only receive a small punishment. It will be determined by each homeroom teacher. Daniel, Veronica, Marcus, and Tobias will be handled by Mr. Evans. Gabriella and Emily by Miss Hayes.

Miguel felt like he could breathe again and nodded. Gabriella also calmed down a bit. She was frustrated and sad.

“Please wait outside. I need to speak with Mr. O'Hara in private.”

All the adults, including you, left the office. However, you couldn’t ignore how intently those red eyes were fixed on you.

You didn’t know if it was resentment… or prejudice.

Once outside, you took both girls to a more secluded spot. They were a bit shaken and needed to get away from that environment.

You wanted to say something to Gabriella. When you saw her for the first time, you thought it would take a long time for her to open up and even start talking to her. Yet, even though she had just met Emily, she stood up for her against the bullying. 

That said a lot about her.

“Well,” you said, and both girls looked at you. “Now I’ll have to think of a punishment for both of you. Why do you two have to cause trouble on the very first day of school, hm?” 

The girls giggled a bit at your comment. You really tried to be stern, but with Gabi and Emily, it was hard. They were just too sweet…

“But, are you okay now?"

They both nodded at the same time, one more confidently than the other.

After spending a while talking to them, the three of you heard heavy footsteps. Firm, angry ones—like those of a giant.

“Papito…”

You turned and saw that tall, handsome man, but his face was clouded with anger. His eyes, burning red, seemed to glow with rage.

“That’s enough, Gabriella. We’re going home,” his voice was firm and cold, enough to send a chill down your spine.

“But, Dad—”

“Enough, Gabriella. Go to the car, now,” he said in the same authoritarian tone, leaving no room for argument.

The girl stood up, waved goodbye to Emily, and gave you one last glance before walking down the hallway.

However, Miguel didn’t follow her right away...

His fierce, burning gaze fell on you with such intensity it left you breathless.

“And you, teacher…”

Oh, no...

“What kind of school is this? Where are the adults when younger kids are being bullied by older ones? Why do you only react when someone fights back?”

His voice boomed through the room like thunder, as if the very air shrank with each word.

“Mr. O'Hara, this school has over five hundred students. We do everything we can, but sometimes it’s impossible to be everywhere at once,” you tried to explain as calmly as possible, even as you felt the lump forming in your throat.

But he didn’t seem willing to listen.

“Then maybe you should reconsider if this is your calling. The title of 'teacher' is too big for you, miss.”

His words weren’t shouted, but they hurt more than if they had been. They struck your chest like arrows, piercing a shield you hadn’t even realized you were wearing.

Why did they hurt so much, coming from someone who barely knew you?

You took a deep breath, swallowing the pain.

“I ask you, please, to choose your words carefully. You are in front of your daughter. What happened today was unfortunate, and no one is justifying Gabriella’s reaction. But we also can’t ignore what led her to that point.”

“And I'm asking you to do your job. That’s why you are being paid.” 

Miguel clenched his jaw, his eyes still burning with anger. For a moment it looked like he might say something else, but instead he gave you one last sharp look before turning and walking silently down the hallway, where Gabriella waited for him.

And when they disappeared, the air seemed to return to the room— but you were no longer the same.

“That man was really mean to you…”

Emily’s soft voice brought you back to the present. You looked down and saw her there, so small, so sincere. Her fingers nervously fidgeted with one of her braids, and her eyes watched you with concern.

You gave her a tired but genuine smile, and gently patted her head, feeling how that simple gesture soothed something inside you.

“It’s been a very long day, little one. Let’s go home, okay? You said you wanted to stop by for your colored pencils. Remember?”

At the mention of that, her face lit up with pure, contagious joy. Her eyes sparkled, and her smile was like sunshine after the storm.

“Then let’s go, let’s go! Hurry!" she said excitedly, clinging tightly to your hand.

The two of you left the school together, leaving behind the stares, the noise, the words that still stung.

And as you walked toward the street, hand in hand, you thought that even if you can’t always protect your students from the world’s injustices…

…for that little girl, you would do anything to keep her safe.

Her smile—sad, but sincere—was worth everything.

The beautiful smile of your little sister.

The ride home was completely silent. Gabriella stared out the window without saying a word, and Miguel kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel, his brow still furrowed.

He was still upset. With the school stuff. With the teachers. With the other parents. Leaving Mexico was supposed to be the first step toward a better, calmer life. A life where his daughter could be safe, grow up happy, without having to worry about things like this.

And now? Everything seemed to have fallen apart on the very first day.

“I'm truly sorry for what happened today," the principal had said in a calm voice, trying to ease the tension. “This afternoon, I reviewed Gabriella's records that we requested from her previous school. Good grades, excellent behavior, talent in sports—especially soccer—and an advanced English level.”

She flipped through a few pages inside a folder labeled in bold letters: O'HARA, G.

“We don’t believe she acted with bad intentions, as some parents have suggested,” the woman continued. “But, as we explained, pushing another student is not the right way to handle a situation, no matter how unfair it may seem.”

Miguel could only nod. His eyes lingered a moment longer on his daughter’s name written on the folder, and inside he felt a mixture of guilt, helplessness, and anger.

“We just need you to talk to her. She's a good girl—it's clear to see. We believe this might have happened out of nervousness or fear from being in a new place. We want to support her… and help her feel like part of our school.”

Once again, Miguel nodded. He had no words. There was a lump in his throat that not even his anger could dissolve. He felt frustrated with everyone... the principal, the judgmental parents, the teacher who hadn’t acted in time.

Even with himself.

“I will, ma'am. And believe me, I deeply regret that this happened. It hasn’t been easy for her… none of this process has been.”

The principal nodded silently, with an expression that, for the first time, seemed genuinely understanding.

Miguel glanced at his daughter through the rearview mirror. She was still staring blankly out the window. Just like that morning—quiet and withdrawn.

“Gabi?"

The girl looked at him briefly through the mirror.

“Mi niña, I'm so sorry your first day turned out like this. I promise it was just a small stumble. Tomorrow will be a new day, and everything’s going to be fine, I promise," he said with a smile, trying to convince Gabi that everything was okay.

Trying to convince himself that everything was okay...

“You were very harsh with Miss Hayes…”

Miguel sighed, keeping his focus on the road.

“Gabriella, those kids were bothering you, and she only reacted after you defended yourself.”

“Yeah... but I wanted to defend Emily. She looked really sad, papito..."

Miguel opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He stayed silent, touched by his daughter’s tenderness. That kind of pure empathy… something he wasn’t sure he’d ever fully learned.

“Sad?”

“Yeah... and she told me she doesn’t have a mom…”

What?

Had that little girl also lost her mother?

“Is she new? An orphan, or…?

Gabi shook her head.

“No. She’s been here since kindergarten… and she only told me a little about her bigger sister.” Gabi explained.

Miguel nodded, eyes still fixed on the road.

A brief silence settled between them.

“Papito?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think... Emily will want to sit with me tomorrow too?”

Miguel looked in the rearview mirror once more. His daughter didn’t look so dim anymore. There was a tiny light in her eyes—a little spark of hope.

“I’m sure she will, sweetheart. And this time, everything’s going to be just fine…”

And as the car drove down the tree-lined street, Miguel allowed himself to breathe a little easier.

Because despite everything… his little girl was still brave. And that, he thought, was a good start.

It was a bit late that night. After helping Emily wash up and brush her teeth, she went to her bedroom.

Of course, after all that high energy from finally getting her new box of colored pencils, she fell asleep almost immediately, tightly hugging her stuffed unicorn.

You turned on her salt lamp on the nightstand, and after looking at her lovingly, you gently closed the door.

You sighed, letting the exhaustion show on your face for just a few seconds, and checked the time on your phone.

10:19 PM.

You still had a few minutes left…

You went to the bathroom and started putting on your makeup in front of the mirror. Eyeliner that defined your gaze, subtle but effective eyeshadow, and a lipstick that made your lips look more alive, more confident… even though you knew none of it really protected you.

Then, you went to your room and began to strip for the day. You took off your sweater and pants, leaving the routine behind. With a small key that you kept on your bedside table, you opened the chest at the foot of your bed. Inside, a small universe of wigs, fabrics and outfits carefully selected to give life to other versions of yourself.

You chose a deep red outfit, the color of passion and determination. You paired it with a black bob wig, elegant and mysterious, that framed your face with a new identity. On your lips, you applied a deep, vibrant red, which contrasted with the softness of your skin.

The top was a semi-transparent bra, slightly exposing your breasts and nipples. The thong embraced your waist and ass, looking great on you. You looked in the mirror you had in a room and once you were convinced, you proceeded with the following.

You put on the black wig, combed it and finally, you were ready. You looked like a completely different person.

In front of the mirror, you observed yourself carefully.

It wasn’t a costume… It was part of the ritual. Part of what allowed you to make it to the end of the month.

You made sure your door was closed and locked.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on your computer.

The seconds it took to start felt eternal.

Your fingers moved automatically, typing the website’s address. Right before logging in, you paused. Another breath. And one more. It was your way of reminding yourself that you were in control… even if it didn’t always feel that way.

The mouse arrow clicked “Start live.” The camera turned on. You saw yourself on the screen: confident, ready, radiant. However, you always made sure that your face was not visible. They only saw your lips, your nose... half of your face completely unknown to the people on the other side of the screen.

The view count started rising slowly. Names piled up in the chat. Greetings, emojis, comments.

Then you smiled, letting go of the weight of the day. As if it were a layer of dust you could shake off for a few hours.

“Welcome to everyone who's joining. Very good evening, handsome ones…”

Your voice sounded sweet, confident, as if that other you—the teacher responsible for shaping young minds, the sister loved and admired by a little girl—didn’t exist at that moment.

It was just you. The one who reinvented herself each night to avoid falling apart.

And suddenly, you weren’t thinking about how hard the day had been.

You were thinking about Emily, asleep and safe… and about how tomorrow, you’d get up again—for her.

Tag list: @miss-tarja, @ryk-mt, @monarchberrysblog, @chubbyhedgehog (if you want to be tagged, you may comment <3)

Thank you very much for reading this far😭✨️

Any comments or feedback with respect will be welcome ❤️

[jealousraisin]

Ch 8 - This Weekend

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - Masterlist

“Come on we’re going to be late” You pester Vanessa who currently has all her makeup and hair supplies sprawled on your bathroom sink.

“Girl’s gotta take her time to look pretty” She idly replies, applying her lipstick with calm precision. “Okay, there. Done. How do I look?” Turning to face you, she strikes a pose.

“Hot, now can we go?” The ride-share you ordered is rounding the corner as you check the map.

She doesn’t reply to you, instead heads towards the door with an exaggerated swing of her hips, just to piss you off even more.

“You’re annoying you know that?” You say as you bite back a smile.

“Annoying, gorgeous and someone you can’t get rid of. You know you love me”

“Whatever” The smile breaks through as you speak.

The short ride to Luke’s place was spent with Vanessa fixing up the small little details you missed while getting ready, for whatever reason she’s quite insistent on it tonight. The car finally rounds the corner to Luke and Charlie’s place.

“This is where he lives? Are you kidding me” Vanessa is practically pressed up to the glass. The poor driver is going to have to clean that…

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“NICE? Are you kidding? Ocean-front, Modern? In California? This is more than nice” her architecture nerd slips out, that’s the Vanessa you know from college.

You thank the driver as the two of you get out. You hear the muffled sound of music inside, there are some people on the front lawn having drinks and conversation. Vanessa takes lead, not even bothering to ring the doorbell; like anyone would hear or answer it anyway. Inside, the familiar home is now filled with people, the smell of alcohol and weed. Vanessa takes your hand, not wanting to lose you to the crowd. She easily weaves through the crowd as she looks for the source of drinks or a familiar face; whichever comes first.

“Over here!” You hear off to the side. You scan the crowd and spot Nicole waving you over. You attempt to weave through the crowd just as ‘Ness did earlier but it was obvious she was more skilled at it than you. Squeezing past the last line of people, you are met with some familiar faces, and some new.

“Hey! Glad you could make it!” Nicole greets the two of you with a drink in each hand, she lifts them up in offering. Your eyes quickly glaze over the group of people Nicole is with, Cassie and Mel are both there; Luke isn’t. Vanessa quickly introduces herself and starts making the rounds with everyone. Nicole slides over to your side and quietly remarks “If you’re looking, he’s near the pool with the others”

“Wha-Who said I was looking? For who?”

“Oh come on don’t be coy here, you know who” She’s playfully nudging you with her elbow. She points in the general direction. “Go on!” Nicole cheers you on, you decide to take her word for it and head that way.

Dodging another group of people, you spot him before he spots you. He’s with some people you don’t know; six others. He seems to be in familiar conversation with a redhead guy. You’re debating whether or not to get in there, hesitation creeping up on you. As you’re mentally debating, Luke looks up and notices you, he waves you over; now you have to go over there. You wave back and enter the circle of people.

“You came!”

“What like I wasn’t supposed to? You made sure I would just this morning” You joke.

“Yeah, fair enough” He laughs.

“You gonna introduce us?” The redhead interrupts, smiling at you as he gives you a once-over.

“Oh right! Let me make the rounds” Luke introduces them one by one. You learn the mint haired girl is Sierra, the one with micro bangs and curls is Frenchy, the two quiet ones chatting amongst themselves are Honey and Kim, the guy in the beanie is Quint and the redhead Luke was just chatting with is Jay. You honestly don’t know if you’ll be able remember them all but still nod along. Jay stands next to you; he leans on your shoulder.

“Luke and I go way back, he stayed at my place when he did his exchange year in Australia back in what you guys call middle school, year 8 for us.”

You raise your eyebrows at that, he never mentioned living in Australia for a year.

“Yeah, we used to get up to some shit, I taught him everything I know.” Jay smiles fondly.

“Ha! If making bongs with a Gatorade bottle and hose was ever considered a sparkling education” Luke jokes back. “I recall teaching you some things as well, it wasn’t all take!”

“Ah but we can’t talk about that now can we!” That comment left you curious, but it seems neither of them wanted to divulge any details on that.

The rest of the group joined into the conversation bit by bit. You found yourself striking up easy conversation with Sierra, who was telling you all about how she manages the groups stream schedule and special events. She seems to like what she does. As the sun sets, Luke’s American friend group and Vanessa meld into conversation with the Australian Squadron. Quite a crowd.

“I’m going to go get another drink” you say to no one in particular.

“Oh! I’ll come with!” It’s Jay, he seems to be sticking around you. You don’t reply, instead start heading off in the direction of the coolers

“So…” He’s leaning against the wall as you rummage through the selection of drinks, trying to find something you like. “Did you come here with someone?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, my friend Vanessa over there.” you jerk your head in the direction of where you last saw her.

“Ah so not with someone?” He asks, noticing you’re still rummaging for a drink. “Here, let me mix you something instead. It going to be a million times better than whatever you’re going to find in there”

Giving up on your quest for anything you like in the cooler you get up and let him make you something. He walks over to the table with drinks and cups set up and gets to work expertly mixing various spirits together. The result is a gradient drink with a slice of fruit floating on the top.

“A pretty drink for a pretty person such as yourself” he says with a smile. You shy away at the comment, not expecting it in the slightest.

“Heh, Thanks?” You take a tentative sip, it’s good. “Mm! This is better than what I was going to choose.”

“You’re talking to the drink expert after all” Jay puffs up at the complement. “So…no partner here with you tonight or no partner at all?” He tries asking in a more direct manner, leaning an arm against the table. Feeling a little bit under the microscope you answer him nonetheless.

“No partner.” You keep your response short.

“I find that hard to believe! So, you’re saying I have a shot?”

“Haha uh...” You’re really shying away from the attention he’s giving you right now. “That’s-Umm” Struggling to find what to say next, gee the ground looks awfully interesting right now.

“Don’t get shy on me now” Jay teases as he swings an arm around your shoulder. “I’d be an idiot to not shoot my shot with someone like you, I mean look at you!”

Your introverted side is not used to this kind of attention, you’re trying your best to come up with a way to let him down gently “I mean, I’m flattered and all but- “

“They’re not interested Jay, back off.” You hear Lukes’s voice.

“Yeesh, Y’know you could have let them say it themselves” Jay says dejectedly, removing his arm from around your shoulders in faux surrender. He heads back in the direction of the group, shaking his head; you miss the teasing smile he shoots Luke as he passes by.

“Sorry about him, he’s a bit relentless sometimes”

“Haha it’s fine, just not used to that kind of attention -or rather- wasn’t expecting it!” You take another sip of the drink Jay made you to break up the feeling in your chest, you laugh awkwardly.

“Come on” Luke gently takes your hand, “We should head back there, you’ve been gone for a hot minute; Nicole was asking about you.”

“Oh, right…”

He notices your hesitation. “It’s fine. If it’ll make you feel better, I won’t leave your side for tonight. Jay’s harmless, but he can be a bit much.” You nod in agreement, letting him lead you back to where everyone was.

And he didn’t lie, Luke was stuck by your side like glue for the night. Where you went, he went. Vanessa and Nicole noticed, oh they absolutely noticed and were whispering to each other like there was no tomorrow. You were too busy letting out your social side, the drinks you had were loosening you up as you hoped they would. A while passes like this, you talked with Cassie about his tattoo work and everyone was very enthusiastically showing you the work he did on them, Luke seemed to be a frequent customer of his. As you were talking about your college days with a couple of people, a particular song started playing that had you widening your eyes in excitement ‘Man! Did this bring you back!’ You drum your fingers against your thigh to the beat.

“You look like you wanna dance” Luke teases.

“Pshh-what? No…”

Before this little back and forth can continue though, Vanessa is taking you towards the crowd of dancing people; moving you and her about just like she did in your college days. “COME ON! You know you wanted to!!” She was right, you did. The two of you jumped about and did the “routine” you worked out over the years to the song, which was really just some uncoordinated dance moves mushed together. But hey, who was keeping track of that? As the song ends you take a second to catch your breath, you really don’t move like that often and adulthood really takes a toll on your physical capability. As you’re about to tap out though, another song starts up that really brings you back.

“Man, this playlist is good!” You offhandedly remark. Vanessa was still up and at it, her energy knows no bounds and you see her being swept away by another dance partner for this song.

“Thanks, I made it.”

You think you just about gave yourself a heart attack. You turn around to find Luke right behind you.

“Care to have this dance, your majesty?” He extends his hand to you, as if he were addressing someone of the royal court. You snort at the bit.

“Why yes, I do” Putting your hand in his, you start to dance with him. The moonlight and scattered fairy lights illuminate the two of you, Luke’s face is wearing an unabashed smile and you can’t help but smile just as big as the two of you move however you feel. The song feels like it goes on forever and it’s just him and you in this moment, you wish it could have lasted longer. But as the song fades out, so do your dance moves. He’s looking straight at you, neither of you making a move to get off the dancefloor just yet. He looks like he has something to say but as quickly he opens his mouth to say anything he’s closing it just as fast.

“What?” you smile, a little out of breath.

“Nothing” He grins right back at you, leading you away from the dancing crowd.

“Hey! If it isn’t the dancer duo!” Nicole welcomes the two of you back to the group, “You made it back just in time, we were about to light the bonfire on the beach!”

“Sweet! Would have sucked if we missed out on that” Luke strikes you as the kind of guy to keep a fire going at a party, so it’s no surprise he’s excited about this. Nicole takes your hand as she leads you through the back fence gate to the beach of the property. Sitting down on one of the available seats you watch as Luke, Jay and Quint get busy lighting the fire. Nicole and her girlfriend sit down next to you, the three of you watch as the guys work at the flames.

“What do you think of him?” Nicole points to Luke with a nod of her head.

“Think of him? He’s a good friend? What, am I not meant to?” Frankly, you’re a little confused about her question.

“Oh my god, Vanessa was right…” Nicole put her head in her hands, her girlfriend Teresa was patting her back in sympathy.

“Luke’s a good guy. He’s helped us through some tough times.” Teresa is looking towards Luke as she speaks, “Give him a chance, he may not be the most direct guy, but he means well.”

Yeah, that really clears it up. Aren’t you already giving him a chance? You guys are already friends?

“What Teresa means is- “

“Okay you two. Move over, I wanna sit here.” Luke cuts Nicole off before she can finish. She gives him a look that says she really wants to ignore his interruption and finish her sentence but she relents. You look at Luke in your peripheral vision as he sits down, he almost looks embarrassed. Huh.

“My friends mean well; They also love to stick their noses in my business” He’s sending a ‘not quite mad’ glare their way as Nicole and Teresa sit a couple of seats down from the two of you. Teresa sticks her tongue out at him in childish retaliation.

“I know what that’s like, I have one of those of my own.” You relate.

You spend the rest of the night in front of the bonfire, talking with everyone about a variety of topics. The ocean air bites at you, the outfit you chose being on the fresher side since it’s summer, the bonfire does little to shield you from the cold gusts that come. You feel something wrap themselves around your shoulders, you notice Luke has given you his jacket.

“S’cold, don’t get sick…”

You feel the leather as you pull it closer to your body, feeling relief from the wind. You lean on his shoulder.

“Thanks”

You hear him mutter something, but with the conversation flittering about and the sound of the waves crashing down you don’t quite hear him. You tune into other’s conversations, only really half listening as all the drinks you had settle into you manifesting as exhaustion. You fight the feeling, knowing that you’re still very much in a social situation, but the warmth of the jacket and the fire along with the sounds of the ocean are a recipe for sleep. Luke notices this and nudges you.

“Hey, come on let’s not fall asleep here.”

“Hm?”

Luke gets up and offers his hand to you. You gladly take it as he pulls you up onto your feet. He doesn’t say a word as he leads you away from the bonfire, through his backyard and back inside the house, where he guides you up the stairs to his bedroom. There aren’t too many people left at this time of the night, which you’re grateful for since you doubt you could navigate a crowd in this state. Luke leads you into his room, shutting the door behind him.

“Here” He’s throwing something your way, with your drunk reflexes you manage to half-catch it last second, with your face. Pulling the object off of your face you realise it’s a shirt. You stare at it, a little confused.

“I doubt you’d want to fall asleep in that outfit, use my bathroom. Get changed.” You heed his instruction and hobble over into the room. Getting out of your current outfit was a bit of a challenge but you seem to manage it efficiently enough. Stepping out donning a much more comfortable outfit you find that Luke has also changed into sleepwear. Noticing you’ve made it out, he’s lifting the blanket on his bed and slipping in, you follow his actions.

“G’night” You mumble out, rest coming easily in this very moment. You feel arms around you just as you slip into sleep.

“Goodnight”

[0m3n-0f-d3ath]

Little wip update

Trying to get more world building around the casino. Remembered it is a horror setting and sticking to it, having a blast writing about this guy. Lamo but he still doesn’t have a name smh

[quinn-pop]

let’s do some autistic meta knight headcanons!! over explaining my interpretation of meta knight yet again wooooo

this orb has NO idea how to talk to people!!! outside of work anyway. a lot of this is partially due to upbringing (suppressing his emotions all the time) but he does not know how to express emotions, like…at all.

this goes into a few things

1. yeah talking is hard. even after figuring out what he wants to communicate he will struggle. conversation can be so overwhelming, especially under pressure. he will need time lol

2. because of that, forming connections is hard. i really don’t think meta is much for shallow relationships, and certainly not early in the timeline. which also means he has very little experience with friendship. so a lot of the relationships he did have went kinda neglected, and issues that probably could’ve been worked on by talking became…*cough romk* escalated.

3. honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if meta convinced himself he couldn’t feel emotion (anymore) until like. katam-ish. he tried very hard lol

vulnerability is terrifying. (though this gesture here is also just comforting, like his little cape cocoon thing he does.)

unmasking—yeah im taking the mask thing very literally here—is a big deal and a very slow process for mk. i’m sure he has a lot of feelings on that lol. it served as a way to ensure no one could ever, y’know, see him.

i can’t say i think he’d ever fully ditch it—there’s always gonna be some days that are more stressful than others and if having it could help him get through it, it just makes sense. mainly when working.

it really is about vulnerability. granted, i don’t think he has the most expressive face (in my head every astral just tends to stare at things) but i doubt he has much control over it. can’t fake a smile but also can’t hide it. probably blushes easy because yeah, astrals; just look at kirby’s face.

just the idea that someone might be able to read his expression and know what he’s feeling before he’s ready for them to (or even understands it himself…) yeah he doesn’t want that

but emotional turmoil aside, i think his mask also hides a lot of his stims

remember that whole “suppressing your feelings” thing? yeah turns out that ignoring half your instincts isn’t a good idea. so in true meta knight style, he tries to stim as subtly as possible

1. he has the least control over his wings, so they will flick and twitch on their own. they’re usually a good indicator of how he’s feeling, not unlike the body language usually seen in cat ears and tails lol. flapping is also an extension of this of course, though he probably suppresses it more.

2. this also effects when he takes his wings out. pretty much every time he’s excited or nervous it just happens. kinda makes me wonder if his wing cape ordeal might also go into the suppression thing… (i’d say yes, but using a cape is also very comforting so it’s not necessarily a bad thing)

3. going back to the mask thing; he stims a lot underneath it. think like biting or pursing your lips. he bites his tongue and clicks his mouth. that sort of thing. his mask also makes it harder to notice that he is constantly sighing, humming, grumbling…all that

one nice thing about the mask though is that it helps a little bit with lights!!! woo

(look at him and his magically floating glasses)

sensory stuff—i think he’s mostly bothered by light and sound. maybe a bit of texture. he’s pretty sensory avoidant and perfectly happy standing off to the side not touching anything.

the one exception to this is physical affection, which is, despite all of this, most of how he shows affection. it’s a lot easier to hug someone than to try to explain your feelings for them, after all.

i think he would like pressure though. so that’s probably part of it. and i’m pretty sure there’s some connection in here to fighting (dang, is that the only way he knows how to get his energy out?)

anyway, pretty much all of this is in contrast to kirby, who i would gladly nominate as the champion of Doing Whatever He Wants. he might pick up a few bad habits, but he will never mask the way meta knight does. he might not understand how he feels, but he’s in tune enough to express it…usually.

this is a very good thing for meta because it helps him to do the same thing. kirby’s so energetic, it’s hard to not want to stim with him. it reminds meta to be kinder to himself and explore his own emotions. he can also help kirby understand themselves, so this connection is very important.

yeah, at the end of the day, everything kinda just boils down to kirby and mk as parallels

this is the conclusion i promise

to me, meta’s arc is about growing stronger by growing kinder, and this is mostly by learning to be kind to himself. letting himself be a person again, loving and understanding other people, and eventually, letting go of all the expectations placed on him and doing the things he’s always wanted to do…

autism headcanons are fun for me because it’s cathartic to write, but at the same time, it just makes sense in this sort of narrative. meta is, to me, inseparable from these things. and so is kirby! that’s a dynamic that’s a lot of fun to play with, and it’s at the heart of my kirby interpretation.

if you actually read all this WOW thank you

[kaiserouo]

sometimes its weird to think of ordis as ordan karris

[marcelineuntitled]

fanart for This Is Not The End by @kings-highway

potentially my favourite fic ever!! <3

[oldworldghost]

How do you think P would react over finding out Reader likes to sing? Is a duet incoming in the walls of Hotel Krat?

P with a lover who's a singer! ☆

↳ Anon this is adorable! I'm tempted to write a fic about something along these lines at a different time, but for now have some hcs :]

➸ Pinocchio finds out you sing on one of his return trips to the hotel. His attention is first grabbed by the sound of the piano, its' notes greeting him upon his entrance, and being the artistically inclined man that P is, he naturally follows it. His attention is secondly grabbed by the faint sound of a voice, half hidden by the keys and only to be properly made out that's yours when he's standing in the doorway of the library. He makes eye contact with Antonia, who sends him a smile before turning back to you, who either hasn't noticed that he's there or simply doesn't care. He supposes it to be the former, too engrossed in what you're doing to pay attention to the outside world.

➸ He, very quickly, ends up the same. Dead glass eyes watch intently as your hands glide over the keys, something akin to life sparking in them as he listens to your voice dance with the music. Pinocchios' initial reaction is that you sound beautiful, look beautiful. Though it would be more accurate, I suppose, to say that he thinks you both look and sound incredibly human. P has never heard anyone sing outside of Vinyls, at least not for long, so being able to not only listen in person but watch as you engage in the act of something as human as music has his gears speeding up. Something in them has changed, he's sure of it.

➸ It should come as no surprise to say that Pinocchio is immensely curious about [and attracted to, in your case] things he perceives as human. This is partially due to the fact that he sees them as a goal, something to work towards and obtain, a barrier to be broken between himself and humanity as a whole. And of course this extends to music and is one of the reasons his vinyl collection is ever growing, why he always finds himself returning to the piano. It is a little hard to tell whether Ps' appreciation of art is something inherent to him or if it merely exists because he thinks it has to. In all honesty it's probably both.

➸ Now, to grow less introspective about it all, Pinocchio also just really loves listening to you sing because it's, well, you. He is undoubtably your number one fan, though he's subtle about it. Gemini is the hype man, much to the embarrassment of P and the amusement of Everyone Else. Honestly it's not even really embarrassment on Ps' part, more of an annoyed "wow I wish you would shut the fuck up!" because Gemini has the talent of being able to bring you into every conversation and you being a singer just adds more fuel to a fire that really does not need it [Pinocchio would one hundred percent do the same though if he was more, you know, talkative].

➸ One of Pinocchios' main love languages is quality time, and honestly you being a singer is perfect for that. Most of his time at the hotel is spent just sitting and listening and watching. Something about your voice makes him feel safe, as weird as that may sound. Maybe it's the affection in it when you sing for him alone, or just how intimate the atmosphere ends up being. He's not even sure if he's capable of feeling comfort, but he wouldn't change whatever's in his chest for the world.

➸ In regards to duets, I think Pinocchio would actually be rather open to the idea. Now, contrary to popular belief he can in fact speak, though he seldom ever does it without prompting. He doesn't really see the point in it if we're being honest, yes speaking is human but his voice is so flat and honestly he just doesn't have a lot to say about things. So it's fairly safe to say P has never sung before, hell he's not even sure if his voicebox can function like that, but nonetheless when you bring up the idea of a duet he's not only willing but somewhat eager about the whole thing. There's really no rhyme or reason for it either, Pinocchio just likes the idea of doing something human with someone who makes it easy to forget he's a puppet.

➸ Now Pinocchios' singing voice is actually rather nice! Though it is, of course, undeniably mechanical. There's something off about it, at times sounding like a crude mimicry of a human, a constant stiffness and roughness to it. It falls into a sort of uncanny valley, however there is also something undeniably endearing about it, something human about how much you can tell he wants to express anything in it. As for sound outside of puppetry, Ps' voice is fairly deep but retains a certain gentleness to it, a smoothness that contradicts the stiffness in a really lovely way. And yes, Pinocchio has a sense of rhythm.

➸ Pinocchio has a strong preference for keeping your duets private. The best way to do that, in his opinion, is when you're both out in the gardens dancing together. Under the stars while everyone else is inside, chest against chest and voices in sync, the gentle twirls and turns as you both slip into your own little world. If you couldn't tell how much he values your duets before, you certainly can now. Kiss him after the song is done, won't you?

[w33d-k4tz]

i guess what im trying to say is

i love you .

@201-klz-dead

[masterfuldoodler]

girlbossed too hard.... unless...

[blackjackkent]

Slowly discovering the freeing power of the words "I know this is bad but I'll fix it in editing."

[cha1cedony]

They do not prepare you for writing the grand finale of baby's first 100k longfic. I am so sad :( I'm gonna miss it :((((( Good thing I have a bajillion other installments planned but like :(((((((((((((

[greenerteacups]

hello!!! i wanted to ask if Lionheart will mirror canon so there will be 7 books, or if you’ll extend the story to eighth year and their early careers!!! also, would you be ok with sharing if Lionheart will be a HEA or nah? 😭 i love you, i love your work 💖

Ah, thank you, you're so sweet! As of right now, my plan is to cover seven books, ending with the conclusion of the Second Wizarding War (whatever that looks like). The summary sort of tells you up front: Draco Malfoy meets a girl on a train, and then he ends a war. That's it, that's the story.

[soultoken-archived]

what if i make a suggestions blog about, like. cosmic horror. personal horror. horror of the unknown. nightvale-ish horror. horror in general.

[vanishintoyou]

"if i finish this i will watch a horror movie" thing kinda backfired it's 9pm lmao