#the way I'm bouncing between subjects should be studied

[m-oshun]

Wait for me

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Study Buddies

isaac lahey x reader

summary: isaac asks you for help in chemistry. you agree on one condition.

tags: high school, studying / tutoring, mutual crushes, awkward flirting, caught in a lie, shyness, embarrassment, play fighting / tickling, bad puns, confessions, first kiss, teasing, fluff, pre-wolf isaac; his dad still sucks; autistic-coded reader

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing for teen wolf. I feel like I'm encroaching on claimed territory. 😅 also i've had this tab up for almost a week but have been afraid to post it, so here goes

Mr. Harris slides your progress report down onto your desk before you have a chance to react, and it catches wind and falls to the ground a moment later. You sigh and roll your eyes, but he’s already halfway across the room, impatiently handing out the rest of his stack. Your own little slip of paper is nowhere by your feet, and you resist the urge to make a remark about it. 

“Hey.” A voice interrupts your intruding thoughts at the same time a tap lands on your shoulder. Gentle, as if the tapper hates to disturb you, yet needs your attention. 

You turn, and temporarily forget about your lost report as your eyes meet Isaac’s, the boy who sits behind you, and has the cutest smile imaginable. You drop your gaze instantly, only for it to fall on his dimpled smile, and then, finally, on the paper held between two fingers. 

“I think this is yours,” he says, holding it out to you. 

Your name is clearly printed on the front, followed by your most recent grades in the class. You blush, immediately remembering it had dropped in the first place. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. He seems like he’s in a mood today.” 

You nod, then take your paper from his hand. By this time, Harris has made his way back to the front, and is clearing his throat in a demand for the class’ silence. Quiet mutterings amongst friends cease at once, and you turn back to face the ill-tempered chemistry teacher. 

“Take a good look at your progress reports. The midterm is coming up, and some of you have more studying to do than others. Today, we will be learning new material, but next class period, we will have a review day. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. You can ask at the appropriate time in class, or come see me after school, or shoot me an email. Regardless of your grade, everyone should be studying, however, some of you have to move up a whole letter or two. That is on you to be aware of, and for you to put in the effort to do. Now, pull out your notes so that we can cover this section. It isn’t the hardest thing we’ll cover, but I expect it will be a struggle for some.”

And after that condescending introduction, he begins to teach. 

When the bell finally rings, your head is swarming with so much chemistry, your eyes are beginning to glaze over and put you to sleep. You’re relatively good at the subject, but that topic was more challenging than he warned it would be, making even you confused at times. You shake your head when you reach your lockers, trying to relieve yourself of the numbers swirling about in your mind. It takes a moment. A very stressful moment. 

A tap on your shoulder, more urgent than the last, pulls you out of your mental headspace. The chemistry bounces out of your mind entirely, bringing you back to reality, but making you jump in place at the sudden contact.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice apologies, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Turning, you come face-to-face with Isaac again. His normally bright blue eyes are slightly cloudy, which worries you more than you’d like to admit. “No worries. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I have a question, actually, to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Okay, I wasn’t looking at your report, I didn’t mean to see your grades. I accidentally saw them when I picked up your paper, but I promise I wasn’t looking on purpose.” He stalls, continuously apologizing for something not at any fault of his own. 

“It’s okay,” you interrupt as politely as you can. 

He pauses, “um. I was wondering if you could help me? Like, in chemistry. Help me study, kinda like a tutor, I guess?”

You pale immediately. Just because you’re doing okay in the class doesn’t mean you have a clue how to help him understand. “Um-”

“Just… I just need a little help, if you can. I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… I don’t know… are busy.” He runs his tongue along his lips nervously. You snap your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact. 

“I don’t know… I’m not a good teacher.”

“But you’re really good in the class. Probably a better teacher than Harris has been lately.”

You chuckle, but you’re still not sure. Being that close to the boy you’ve liked for ages? On top of not being able to teach well? He’ll reduce you to a stupid, stuttering mess, just look at yourself now, unable to look him in the eye. No, don’t look at him, that was rhetorical. 

“I just,” he continues, “when he was talking about people who needed to go up a whole letter, he was talking about me. I know you’re good, you sit in front of me. If you can even just explain it to me as you study, it would help a lot.”

Half of your mind races to find an excuse, looking for an out, while the other begs you to agree. Isaac shoves a hand in his pocket and waits for a response. You debate with yourself for a moment, but then the urging part of your mind wins the argument with a question of its own. 

“What about this,” you start, “I’ll help you in chemistry, if you help me in French?”

“What?” He asks, taken off guard. “I’m not good at French.”

“You’re better than me. You have the answers to most of Ms. Morrell’s questions, and I can hear you when she asks us to recite words out loud.” His eyes narrow at that, to which you reply, “you sit behind me in French, too.”

“Right.” He smiles, but doesn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he rests his head against the locker beside yours. 

“So?”

“How do you know I’m not just guessing?”

“What’s your grade?”

“A,” he sheepishly answers.

“See? You can tutor me.”

“What’s your grade?”

You purse your lips and avoid his eyes again. “Too embarrassed to say.”

“Really?”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit. We all have our strengths.”

“Alright, deal. Help me in chem, and I’ll help you with French.”

“Sounds good. Library, or at one of our houses?”

“I can probably go to the library sometimes. Maybe during lunch or free period. But after school, I have lacrosse, and you probably don’t want to wait around school for that to be over.”

“Okay, so then your house or mine?”

“Where do you live?”

“Like ten minutes from here. You?”

“A bit closer than that. Parents?”

“Don’t really care what I do.”

“My dad is a little controlling,” he admits. 

“Would he care if I were to come over?”

“Not if you’re helping me study.”

“Okay. You want to meet a couple times a week at your house, and sometimes during lunch?”

“Sure. Practice ends around five. Is seven too late?”

“Not for me.”

“Cool. So, um, I’ll text you, and we can plan dates.” He shakes his head. “I mean, like, what days work best.”

You blush at his embarrassment. “Have to give you my number first, doofus.” 

“Oh.”

You scribble it onto a sticky note and hand it to him. “Let me know.”

“I will. And thank you.”

“Thank you, too.” You hurry your way to your next class, leaving him red in the face and hands at having a girl’s number. Granted, it’s just for studying, but it’s the fact he was able to talk to you at all that has him shaken. Isaac forces himself to breathe, before entering it in his phone and tucking the sticky safely in his backpack. As the bell rings, he hurries to his next class. 

~~~~

The next evening is the first time you meet up to study. You drive to the address he’s given and knock on the door as gently as possible. Isaac had mentioned his dad is controlling, so the first thing you want to do is to avoid pissing him off in any way you could. Controlling could mean a lot of things, and the boy wasn’t specific at all. For both of your sakes, you tread lightly. 

Isaac opens the door a moment later, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. You try really hard not to blush as he invites you inside, but then his dad’s strict voice snaps you back into reality. You can see Isaac take a visible deep breath before rounding the corner in the kitchen, you in tow. You put on your best look of professionalism while trying to anticipate how the next couple of minutes might go. 

“And? Who was it?”

“Y/N, the girl I told you I was studying with… with whom I am going to study,” he corrects at the last minute. 

His father’s posture tenses a bit less when his son corrects his own grammar without prompt, but it doesn’t stop his cold eyes from floating over to you. “And you’re studying what?”

“Chemistry, sir. I’m helping Isaac, and he’s helping me with French.”

“And you know French well enough to help her?”

“I believe I do,” he says, trying to sound confident. 

“I think he does, too. In class, he always has the answers, and Mrs. Morrell’s often impressed, and she’s hard to impress more than once.”

“Hm.” His dad takes a sip from a glass, then carefully sets it down on the table. His eyes are locked on Isaac the whole time. The boy stares at the ground, any confidence shaken by the interaction. You study the scene, confused. “Well… Go study. Bring up those grades.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply at the same time. 

Isaac nods for you to follow him to his room, which you oblige. His dad remains seated as you make your way up the stairs. You bite back a comment about the man, even in the safety of Isaac’s bedroom, and he doesn’t say anything, either. The same remark is in both your heads, yet while you want to ask it in a question, he wants to use it as a reassurance. Yes, he’s a bit more controlling than Isaac originally said. No, he won’t do anything stupid while you're there. He tries to convey this in an expression, which you half-understand, but eventually drop it. If anything happens, you’ll leave. Simple as that. 

As it turns out, the first night of you studying together ends up nothing like the initial interaction you had in his house. Isaac is gentle, patient, and willing to learn and teach the best that he can. He’s admittedly worse in chemistry than you are in French, but you’re able to convince him that you only need to work on a few things; an hour of time doesn’t have to be devoted to your studies, maybe only twenty minutes. On the contrary, the other sixty are put towards chemistry. And, of course, the first five are for settling in, and the last five are for uncontrollable laughter at a mispronunciation. 

Thirty minutes to nine, you realize how late it’s gotten and start to pack your things. Isaac looks exhausted, and frankly, as much as you’re enjoying his company, you’re getting tired from talking. 

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He asks, rather quickly. 

You stare for a moment, then, “what?”

“Vendredi.”

“Thursday?”

“Non.”

“Friday?”

“Oui, rencontrer?”

“Meet then?”

“Yeah, would you like to?”

“Sure.” You nod. “Say it again?”

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He says it slower this time. It has the same effect on you, but you can comprehend each word better. 

“Cool,” you say, not at all thinking about his accent that paints the words so beautifully. “I’ll bring my H2O, since I forgot it this time.”

The boy snorts with more laughter. “Bad joke.”

“Absolutely horrible,” you agree. “See you in school tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

“Be safe,” you reply before you can stop yourself, referring to his dad downstairs. 

Isaac only nods. He walks you to his front door, then hurries back up to his room. 

~~~~

Each day you study together follows a similar routine to the first: five minutes to settle in, sixty of chemistry, twenty of French, then five of joking around with each other. Sometimes Isaac pushes for thirty of French instead, worried that you’re sacrificing your own studies for his, and never understands when you push back that you’re good with only twenty. 

His chemistry improves immensely with your help. In three weeks, he manages to pull it up to a ‘C’. Not only is his father a bit more lenient to him after the next progress report, but he’s also more pleasant to you the next time you come around to study. He even cracks a smile. 

Today, you go over just the same as you have been. Seven on the dot, you’re greeted by his dimpled smile and half-friendly father. The man has now graduated to welcoming you, and has once clapped you on the shoulder as you’ve passed. You’re polite to him, though you can tell Isaac’s uncomfortable with his unusual behavior, so you always try to retreat upstairs as soon as possible. This time, he’s busy with something in the kitchen and doesn’t talk for long. He makes one comment about grades; you promise him you’re both doing well, then he lets you go. 

Finally away, it doesn’t take long for you to settle down anymore. You make yourself comfortable on Isaac’s bed, pulling out your notes and pens, and smiling when he joins you. You’ve come to be good friends in the last couple weeks, and although there’s something definitely in the air, too, you’re good with being friends if that’s all you can convince yourselves you are. 

You start, per usual, with chemistry, reading over notes and figuring out problems. He moves closer and closer to you each day you teach, simultaneously making you nervous and excited. Either way, your water bottle remains beside you to calm your ever-growing heart rate. When it comes time to switch subjects, you excuse yourself a minute to recover and prepare for the next half hour. In the beginning, it was easier to hide your blush, promising you’re still getting the hang of the co-teaching thing. Now, your excuse dwindles. The shy smile you wear as he recites words of the love language has never faded. You have to compose yourself entirely, elsewhere, to be able to control your reaction and face him. 

“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Yeah, just over there.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as the door shuts, Isaac jumps off the bed to check his hair in the mirror. In the process, your French binder falls to the ground and loses its page. The boy sighs, mutters an ‘oh shit,’ then pulls it back up to find the page again. He opens the flap and immediately finds a stash of old progress reports. You seem to keep all of your old ones in the front flap of your binder; he’s noticed you have all your chemistry reports, too. Curious, Isaac steals a peek. Despite confessing about his ‘D’ in chemistry, you’ve always cheekily refused to share your French grade. He doubts it’s that bad, but he’s never gotten you to admit it. 

He glances at the bathroom door, then checks the date on the report before scanning the grades. Guilt eats at him the longer he looks, but nosiness, then confusion keeps his eyes glued. Is he really reading that right? There’s no way you have a-

“Sorry about that,” you say, closing the door. 

Startled, he drops your binder and looks up at you. “It’s no worry.”

“What’s wrong?” You notice his change in behavior, like a young boy being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

“Nothing. Your binder fell off the bed, I was picking it up.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles when you join him back on the bed. You’re not sure if you still have a right to be suspicious, or if he’s just embarrassed because he’s so shy. “So, um-”

Isaac, on the other hand, is brimming with questions. As anxious as he is that you caught him peeking, he can’t help but wonder about what he saw. You start to speak, maybe to change the subject, but he cuts you off, guilt and curiosity both winning. “You have an ‘A’ in French?”

“What?”

“You’ve had an ‘A’ since the start of the year. Why do you need me to tutor you if you already know it?”

You shut your open mouth immediately, face paling at the realization you’ve been caught. “I-... I don’t know. Your grades are better than mine.”

“By one point.”

“Two points. You have a 94. I have a 92.”

“Doesn’t explain the need for a tutor,” he argues.

You study him, choosing to base your reaction off his own. He’s smiling; seemingly happy, curious, and not at all upset. His tone implies no accusation, just confusion, and his body posture is straight, shoulders relaxed. A twinkle shines in his baby blue eyes; his level of eye contact is neither constant nor avoidant. He’s safe. 

“I, um,” you decide to tell him the truth. Or, rather, stutter out the truth. “I don’t need a French tutor.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Decisive tone, yet still friendly. Still safe. 

“I figured, since I would help you with chemistry, even though I’m not that good of a teacher, if you had to teach me something too, it would put less pressure on me to be a good teacher.”

His eyes narrow. “Okay… but why French?” He’s still a little confused on that reasoning, but doesn’t question it. He knows you’re shy. If that’s what you had to do to make it work that you could help him, he doesn’t mind. 

“I, er, well, the French provided a win-win scenario.”

“Which is?”

You shrug, body warming quickly as you near your deeply guarded secret. “I- I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Mhm, really?”

“You’re best in French,” you offer instead, on a whim.

“True,” he agrees, “though I feel that’s not the real reason, judging by your lack of eye contact.”

“I’m always bad at eye contact.”

“You’ve been getting better with me these last few weeks.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m not going to judge, Y/N. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. You trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then how is me teaching you French a, as you call it, win-win scenario?”

Finally, you fess, “because I get to hear you speak it every time you teach me.”

Isaac’s quiet for a moment. Then, you realize it seems to have gone over his head as he says, “you hear me speak all the time in class.”

“Yeah, but… with twenty other voices mixed in, too. I like hearing just your voice. The way you know just how to sound it out perfectly, and the way your accent flourishes each sentence. Most people in class sound like they’re gurgling saltwater, but you make it sound hot, like the way French is supposed to sound.” Your mouth utters words before your brain can catch up and prevent you from embarrassment. As soon as you realize what you’ve said, a dizziness swarms your head and it feels like the temperature’s gone up ten degrees. 

Isaac is speechless in front of you. He’s first stuck on the fact that you like his voice, then on his pronunciation being described as perfect, but then he short-circuits as the word ‘hot’ falls from your lips. He doesn’t even realize when you plant your face into your binder, shocked by your own confession. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. It’s muffled, but he hears it enough to pull him from his trance. 

“You like my voice?” He asks, cursing himself for the stupidity of the question. It’s all he can think of to say, though, still trying to cool his own rising body temperature. 

“I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he blurts out quickly. “I’m actually quite charmed by that.”

You resist the urge to look up at him, desperate to see if he’s smiling or not. Isaac seems to have a similar thought, and tries to hook a finger under your chin to lift your head. He succeeds, but then you instantly embarrass again, and dive for the pillows, burying your face amongst them. 

“Oh no, get back here,” he jokes. You feel him before you look out to see him. His hands shake your shoulder, but when you don’t respond, he playfully starts to tickle your neck. You scrunch and try to scramble away, but he only continues. “C’mon.”

“I can’t!” The words have finally sunken into his head; the weight of them falls on your chest. 

“Oh, yes you can!” He teases more, moving pillows away from you, just for you to grab another and bury back under it. When Isaac realizes there’s no use in trying to win the pillow war, he swings a leg over yours and begins to tickle your stomach. Your shirt has begun to ride up from your movement, and temporarily, he forgets you’re classmates, not longtime best friends. “C’mon, give it up!”

“I-I can’t!” You’re running out of breath, and pillows. He pulls another away from you, then puts his hands back on your sides. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but only do you open them because of the unfamiliar feeling of him touching you. A beat skips in your heart at the sudden, unexpected realization that he’s not only touching your skin, but he’s also straddling your waist. You swallow hard. He pinches your side lightly, shocking you back into reality, and making you grab another pillow to hide your face again. Before you can grasp it, Isaac grabs your hands and pins them above your head. You pant, heart racing a mile a minute. His too, as you can hear in the moment you both grow quiet. 

“You think it’s hot when I speak French?”

“No, I think you’re hot when you speak French. There’s a difference.”

“Is there now?”

“The temperature of the room doesn’t get hot, it’s you that gets hot.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Not that you’re not always hot… I mean, sometimes, you’re more like a cute little puppy than a hot, French-speaking…” your words fade as your brain catches up, faster this time, yet still not fast enough. 

“Am I now?”

What’s done is done, you figure. Can’t take it back now, can only admit it. “Yeah.”

“Huh. So all this time, you’ve been teaching me chemistry, and I’ve been talking pointlessly while you listen and learn nothing?”

“When you word it like that, it sounds bad.” A pout graces your lips as guilt floods you. “But I have learned some things. I was struggling with direct objects, and now I’m not.”

“Ah. So I’m not totally useless?”

“Never. You wouldn’t be useless even if I knew perfect French.” Before he can reply, you continue. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I wasted your time when we could’ve been doing more chemistry.”

“Darling, too much chemistry and my brain woulda exploded. The French lessons are a nice intermission. Besides, I wouldn’t consider any time with you as time wasted.”

“Really?”

He drops your hands and they fall back down to your waist. He seems, then, to realize he’s still on top of you, and begins to climb off. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Can I confess something else?”

He pauses. “Sure, anything.”

“I would’ve been okay with just tutoring you chemistry, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye long enough to do it well.”

“You’ve been doing great with the eye contact thing. I know it’s not your strong suit, but you’ve made a lot of progress these last couple weeks.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “It’s not only that.” A heartbeat passes. “I like you.”

“You like me?” His eyes narrow before he assumes only, “you like my voice.”

“No, I like you. I mean, yes, I like your voice, but I like it because I like you.”

“Like me, as in…”

“Like I have a crush on you.”

He tilts his head like a confused dog. “On me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I’ve never had anyone have a crush on me before,” he admits.

Now you’re confused. “What?! How?!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s stupid. Never had anyone admit it, maybe.”

“I’d never know.”

“Well I’ve had a crush on you since the seventh grade.”

“You moved to Beacon Hills in the seventh grade.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?”

“Very secretly.”

“Huh. Well I’ve liked you since the first day of school,” he confesses.

“I’ve liked you since orientation, so I win.”

He smiles, then shakes his head playfully. “So I sit behind you in classes for years and only finally get the courage to talk to you when I’m borderline failing chemistry, and you only get the courage to talk to me for more than one minute if you can convince me to talk half of the time that we’d be studying together.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And my portion of the talking is in French, because you think my accent is hot?”

“Your accent is always hot; your French is hot on its own.”

“Ah, I’m following now.” He chuckles, letting his fingertips grace your hips. 

“So,” you ask, “as two people with several year long mutual crushes on each other, what do we do next?”

“Well you’re the one that’s been tutoring me chemistry, love, I’m hoping you have the answer.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wrong kind of chemistry, dork.” You reach your hands up to the sides of his face anyway, and pull him down for a kiss. Isaac complies immediately, setting one hand down beside you, while the other caresses your chin. Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him close until he starts to pull away, needing air. You let go, then hide your face as his own turns a rosy pink. 

“That was worth the wait,” he says, smiling, and touching a finger to his recently-kissed lips. “Êtes-vous d'accord?” 

“Shut up,” you tease, pushing him slightly. “Chemistry time.”

“We just had chemistry time. It’s French time now.”

“No, we can skip a round,” you insist, unsure you can hear anymore French fall from his lips without folding and kissing them again.

“On the contrary, I think you need to sharpen your vocabulary.”

“I think I’ll need a water break first.”

“That we can do,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure to get yours with extra ice.”

“Shush!”

[sneakertin]

auughhhrh. i think i have adhd but. maybe i don't. idk. i don't wanna self diagnose but at this point im torn between thinking "there's no fucking way i don't have it" and "but what if i don't". getting a diagnosis is Impossibly difficult and stressful and expensive and we barely have any even remotely working medication where i live so it's not really an option for now. but if i do have it then that means there's an explanation for everything that's wrong with me and it all has a reason and it's not something I'm personally responsible for. but if i don't then that means that im just a lazy stupid nobody with no ambitions. which would be very sad but goddamn there are way too many symptoms to even consider myself being neurotypical. for some reason i feel like it's getting worse and worse everyday but that's probably because i just started uni and there's a lot of change in my life and i haven't been getting enough sleep lately cus i physically can't fall asleep before midnight or sometimes even later but i have to wake up at six. and also because there's a thing that constantly stresses me out at all times(calculus) that i feel like i genuinely can't do anything about even if i try really hard. but i just constantly feel like I'm not in control of my own brain. focusing is so damn hard and even when i do focus i loose it very quickly and end up just bouncing back and forward trying to keep my mind in one place. when i try to read something for homework it feels like my eyes just don't wanna look at the screen and i have to force them not to look away. every couple of minutes or less my thoughts drift away and i only notice it afterwards. when i try to sit down and watch a calculus lecture in hopes of understanding this little personal hell of mine i feel soooo frustrated it almost feels like physical pain and i just turn it off after two minutes. i can't do anything and i don't want to. every task feels like there's a weight on my shoulders. I'm so irresponsible. i keep ignoring or putting off stuff that i need to do and someday the consequences will catch up to me. i don't wanna study. i just wanna do only the stuff that i like all the time. i wanna waste money and go to pretty cafes and buy snacks and be on the internet and watch my fav shows and read fanfiction and read books and analyse literature and watch movies and cry because of them and watch video essays and sometimes cook and clean and draw and draw and draw all the time. which is so embarrassing because im so privileged. i have the chance to get education and yet i feel like I'm not grateful enough and i feel so guilty for being so lazy all the time. im not saying that i wanna drop out, no. but the situation is that I'm not studying what i wanted rn but I'm gonna transfer to where i want at the end of the semester but that means i have to study all these subjects that i despise and don't understand at all and somehow not get expelled till january.

ok, so, i started writing this when i was a bit overstimulated but now that i have written my thoughts down i feel like things are fine now and i feel better. urghh. i don't even know if should post this now. that's so embarrassing, why am i so dramatic.

anyway. but i do fuck up things in my life very often because i put off things that i don't wanna do. when i had my extremely important school exams that would determine whether i get into uni or not, i barely even studied for them. i only did like a day/half a day of active studying for each subject. i kept procrastinating even when that fucking exam that some people have mental breakdowns over was due to be the next day. i did get into uni, but not into the course that I wanted, because my exam results were not quite enough. but that wasn't really a problem because i could've easily transferred to where i want at the very start of the semester, but. i kept putting it off and it turned out you can only do that during the first two weeks and now I'm in the situation that I've described earlier. and don't even get me started on the shitshow that happened when i was in driving school. and it was all entirely my fault. and school in general have always been difficult for me but in school i could get away with not doing anything cus im not stupid, and i even had good grades. but that doesn't work in uni cus in uni they don't teach you anything, you learn everything yourself, and i quite literally can't study. adhd medication sounds like a dream, honestly. you take a pill and suddenly you can function like a normal person and work for hours and even enjoy it. how fucking cool is that.

so ehmm. i don't really have anything to say, just wanted to write. something. don't mind me, really :)

wait, no. i just remembered why i wrote all this. so, I'm kind of addicted to tiktok, which is my greatest curse and i accidentally got into fucking "studytok" and now my fyp is filled with happy american uni students studying for 12 hours straight and talking about obscure studying techniques with weird names and all of that is just. so. from another realm from me, honestly. how do they do that. am i even the same species as them

[yihrae]

This reflection for Big Questions was graded

I expected a large, burly Irish man. The name "Giovanni" had misled me. This was not the only misleading thing. Reading Freire's Pedagogy of The Oppressed led me to believe this would be a very philosophical and technical class. I believed we would be citing the likes of Karl Marx and Nietzsche, and that during class, questions with little direction such as "What does it mean to teach?" would be thrown around carelessly. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised when I realised the discussion did not dig that deep, but rather consisted of a well-planned lesson plan that reflected the content of the reading.

I will not pretend that I had read so deeply as to extract the nuances within the reading before the class. I had however, captured the core principals as well as the key terms chapter 2 had provided. During the class, I wanted to provide some form of input. In part because I wanted to class participate, but mostly because I was interested in the content of the class.

The professor asked about the consequences of students being "challenged". I remember scrutinising the text. I was really tired because I hadn't slept the night before so I was using a lot of brain power. I found a section I had not read too carefully at all and answered the question, saying that students who were challenged would contextualise the problems to their life, increasing the relevance of the said problem and decreasing the "alienation" between subject matter and life.

I would say I had been more than sufficiently challenged then, because I used an overwhelming amount of focus to try and find out how to answer the questions in class. I realised things would probably be a lot easier if I had for a second, stopped to think about what a couple of the sentences in the reading truly meant, instead of just skimming over them and vaguely grasping semblances of meaning. Somehow I suspect if I had given the reading a bit more time I'd have been able to come up with more than just one point. But regardless, speaking too much wouldn't be good because then I'd be hogging up the class participation. So, in essence, to make life easier, I should just read the reading more carefully and really process the layers behind some sentences.

I was surprised by how beneficial a good discussion-facilitator could be. Through all the sleep-depravity, I still remember one point the professor made, which was that discussion without guidance sometimes leads to people just saying what they think, without anyone's ideas being linked in any way or form. People don't end up learning much that way, they are simple bouncing ideas off one another and saying whatever they think. I thought about this for a while. Now I believe it to be quite true and will keep it in mind the next time I'm trying to have a discussion.

I understand why some people call this a "fluff" module. You don't really need to study a lot - just read the reading and analyse it a bit. But I actually really like this module. I like reflecting and thinking about thinking (or as Freire puts it: consciousness as consciousness of consciousness). I like to come to class not having to stress about whether the prior knowledge has been banked, but rather whether prior experiences have been reflected upon and have bolstered one's readiness for class, not because we have learned more, but because we are now better at learning.

I think I am decent at reflection since I do it a lot. But that doesn't mean I can't learn to reflect even better. In fact, I want to get better at reflection. I think my growth as an individual has somewhat stagnated so maybe this will help. I really enjoyed this class. I hope the next few are as enjoyable.

[esamastation]

Breath of the Wild snippet

Link is bored. It's a little startling how easy it's to see – how easy he's to read these days. Where before, hundred years ago, he'd been as unreadable as a brick wall, a look of serious determination as though permanently etched to his face, now he's an open book, covers flung wide. The serious frown still makes an appearance, of course, it's his default expression, Link's face simply rests in a way that makes him seem as though he's almost scowling, but now, should an emotion cross his mind… he does nothing to hide it. 

Like now, as his attention strays and his eyes wander and every so often he smothers a sigh or a yawn or a longing look directed at the door. It's in part painfully and in part endearingly clear how little attention he's paying to their meeting, and how much he wishes he could be elsewhere.

Zelda smothers a smile and then realises she's allowed herself to be distracted, and quickly turns her attention back to the meeting taking place in Impa's house.

"... a little difficult to test," Purah is saying. She's sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor, her seat cushion abandoned and papers flung about her – most of them about her anti-aging rune. "I can't even promise the test subject will survive the process, never mind that it will work even fifty percent of the time... so finding people to volunteer has been an issue."

"What, no old folks interested in regaining their misspent youth?" Robbie asks with a slight snort, adjusting his goggles. "I'd happily test it, if my work wasn't too important to risk!"

Purah gives him a look. "Well, duh. Most folk are the same," she says and shakes her head. "And besides, the population and age statistics don't exactly trend towards the elderly these days. The average life expectancy of both Hylians and Sheikah both trend about forty years younger than it used to be pre-Calamity. And the only way for people to reliably grow old these days –"

"Is to have a family or other support network, helping them," Impa muses, rubbing at her chin. "Which means they have things too dear to lose, for an uncertain chance."

"Just so," Purah says and folds her little arms, adorable in her seriousness. "I did post queries around Hateno village, of course, but I only had a couple of takers, and they all turned tail when I explained the risks. And we can't improve the chances without further testing. And we can't do further testing without candidates. And we're not likely to get more candidates with the chances being what they are - it's a vicious circle." 

By the door, Link looks ready to nod off. 

Zelda hums, looking at the papers Purah had brought, conflicted. It's incredible work, just as a concept, and Purah hadn't just left it at theory – and the results certainly speak for themselves! Purah is now, what, hundred and twenty, hundred and thirty years old? And she looks as though she is a girl of six, with all that time ahead of her and not behind. If the technology could be made reliable, it would no doubt change the future in ways Zelda can scarcely imagine… for the better, she hopes, for all the people of Hyrule.

But right now, she has more selfish reasons to make enquiries into the rune.

Zelda looks at Impa, sitting on top of a pile of pillows, her weathered, aged face thoughtful. Their eyes meet and Zelda steels her resolve. "Might there be any potential candidates in Kakariko village, Impa?" she asks.

"Hmm. I doubt it. Young Zain, maybe?" Impa muses. "Well, he's not so young. He's in his seventies, he has bad knees and no surviving relatives to support or be supported by. Bit of a sour grape, that one, though. Sceptic. Hard to convince."

"I'm sure if the Lost Princess and the Hero who stopped Ganon ask for it, anyone would be happy to give it a go!" Robbie says, slapping his folded knees. "Especially if they learn what it's all for!"

Zelda smiles, wincing, and looks down. Using her standing for such a thing… sure she'd done things of that nature before, pleading people to join their cause, ages ago… but never with the risks so high, and potential results so uncertain. She'd never liked asking people to risk their lives, for her or otherwise. Even with a cause so important...

"It would be a somewhat awkward thing to ask, though," she muses and looks down. "It is an awkward thing to ask. I'm… I'm sorry to have to ask it of you."

After all this time, all these years, all the service they'd already put in, to ask for so much more of them… but she had to. No one woman could rebuild a kingdom by herself. She needed help, she needed allies – she needed Impa and Robbie and Purah. With such a foundation, Hyrule might yet rise, better than ever, but for that to ever happen… Impa and Robbie needed to go through what Purah already had, and extend their already prodigiously long lives even further. They all deserved their quiet retirement, after all the effort they'd put in, but for Hyrule, Zelda would make this cruel request.

"Ha!" Robbie says, striking a pose. "Like I wouldn't do this without being asked! As soon as Purah can improve the odds – no, as soon as we can improve the odds –"

"What's that, you old coot, what do you mean by we?" Purah depends, bouncing to her feet. "If you think I will let you ever into my lab, mister, you're sorely mistaken –!"

"If we work together, combine the efforts of Akkala and Hateno tech labs, we're sure to succeed! With Cherry's incredible computing power and your Stone –"

"Your creepy ancient furnace is getting nowhere near my Guidance Stone!"

Link startles awake at the noise they're making and Zelda smothers a giggle while Impa sighs.

"I will ask Paya to check in on Zain, maybe he will be interested," Impa says and shakes her head. "But it's still a small test study, with only two subjects. I'm sorry, Zelda – as much as I wish to do this, I am with Robbie on this. The chances are too low and I have too much to lose, right now. Paya is nowhere near ready to take over for me here. There needs to be more candidate's, first, and I don't know where we can get them. But," she hums and looks away. "There might be someone who does."

Link yawns and then freezes, finding all of them staring at him. Then, clearly baffled, he points at himself quizzically, and Zelda offers him a smile.

Impa chuckles. "You've been all over Hyrule now, Link – you've traveled farther than probably anyone has in a hundred years. Better than anyone, you know the state of her people. Do you think there is anyone out there who might be interested in Purah's study – in regaining their youth, even at a risk?"

Link scratches the back of his neck thoughtfully and then takes out the Sheikah Slate, opening the map with an easy, well practiced wipe of his fingers over the screen. Zelda leans in, once more amazed – and a little jealous – of how far he'd gotten with it, how full of markers the map is. Hundred years ago, she'd estimated that there might be as many as a dozen sites of ancient Sheikah technology all over Hyrule. Link had discovered over a hundred. They now glow on his map, like glittering blue gems, the Towers and Shrines he'd seen and mastered.

Link zooms in on the map and then puts down three other markers. One in Zora's domain, one in Gerudo Town and last in Lurelin Village. Turning the slate around, he shows the map to everyone.

"Of course," Zelda breathes in realisation. "The Guardians never reached so far, so their populations were never so scattered or scarred. In Zora's domain, in Gerudo Town and in Lurelin, people can grow old peacefully, without fear of attack."

Link makes a face and a wobbling gesture with his hand and then shrugs. Zelda smiles, sadly. "Aside from monsters and other disasters and misfortunes, of course," she agrees. "But without fear of attacks by Guardians, they were allowed to prosper."

"Not the Rito, though?" Robbie asks, his goggles whirting and shifting like the eyes of a gecko as he looks between the map, Link and Zelda. "Or the Gorons?"

Link shrugs, rubbing at his neck.

"Gorons age like rocks, Daruk always said," Zelda muses. "And I suppose with Rito it can be difficult to tell their ages. If we send out invitations to the study, we should include them as well – assuming that the treatment by the rune isn't Sheikah exclusive…?"

Purah rocks back and forth on her feet thoughtfully, almost as though she's about to dance. "I… don't know? I calibrated the first version based on my own physiology, so it might be best to stick to Sheikah and Hylians for a start – but I can't see why it couldn't be adjusted. Gerudo are closer in structure to us than Rito and Gorons, or Zora for that matter. Might be best we start there, when we begin making modifications to include everyone."

"So, begin with Lurelin," Robbie says and nods. "How do we do that?"

"We'll make some posters and Link can zip in and out of Lurelin Village to post them," Purah says and strikes a pose. "It's just a snap for the Sheikah Slate."

Impa hums in agreement. "Best we make advertisements for Kakariko and Hateno as well, and perhaps some of the stables," she muses. "You never know who might take us up on it, and getting this technology to work at hundred percent will be a benefit to everyone."

"You're right," Zelda agrees, nodding. "Purah and Robbie, I suppose you two know best what should go on the poster. Can you make it?"

"It'll work much better, with your name under it," Robbie points out.

"We'll write a draft and you can copy it and put your royal touch and seal to it," Purah says and does an excited little dance. "This is so exciting! We'll get so many applicants and my little Guidance Stone will get to do it's thing!"

Zelda offers her a smile, all the while wondering, not for the first time… how much of a royal she even is, at this point. With the castle in ruins and the Kingdom in shambles, with no one to rule it for a hundred years… all that Zelda is now... is a story. The Princess that went to fight Calamity Ganon as the Kingdom fell asunder all around her. Not many even believe it. That might change with this meeting and the following cooperation, especially when they'd begin reaching out further, but right now… 

Princess of nothing indeed.

"So much was lost," Zelda murmurs, carefully resting her hands in her lap to keep herself from wringing them. She shouldn't concentrate on the losses. Not when there's so much to do. "It will be good to build something for a change. To improve things."

"Indeed," Impa says, nodding her head, her heavy hat tilting. "But if Calamity Ganon taught us anything, it is that we should take all due caution."

"Yes. And speaking of which," Zelda says and lifts her eyes to Robbie. "Your research in Akkala – I would very much like to hear more about it. Link showed me the armour and weaponry you made, they're very impressive – how did you manage it?"

Robbie all but launches himself into the story of Akkala Ancient Tech Lab, the research he'd done there, the progress he'd made, enthusiastically recounting the creation of his Ancient Furnace, Cherry. Zelda leans in, allowing herself to be drawn in, and by the door Link settles down with a sigh and begins nodding off again.

-

Hmm hmm. Took me 3 years, but I finally finished botw.

I might continue this one and it might end up a Stargate crossover. Who knows.

[purple-heart-x]

A Trade Chapter 9 Part 1

So! I lied, I'm posting this half of chapter 9. I don't think I can rightly call it a sneak peek because there's just so much. The flashback scene is pretty long (and will be continued in Chapter 9 Part 2) sorry!!

Enjoy, and have a good existence til I pop into your dashboard again :)

---

Tags: @shydragonrider, @stuck-in-this-mortal-form, @equestrianwritingsstuff

I'm 99% sure I've got everyone? I should probably make an actual list but I've tagged everyone whose ask I saw just now. Please remind me if I've forgotten!

---

Medic had waited to make sure Supervillain wouldn’t reawaken in panic within the next few moments. When it became clear that he would sleep for a while longer, he thanked the heroes for their help, asking all but Hero3 to return to their normal duties. As for Hero3, he would stay back as… security. For whenever Supervillain woke up again.

Hero3’s face did not show much emotion. It was key in battle, of course, to not reveal any weaknesses or loss of concentration to enemies. Out of battle, though, it made it that much more complicated to read Hero3’s emotions. 

What made it worse was Medic’s habit of working in silence. So, with the knowledge that Hero3 was with him, he tried to accommodate without losing his place in the process. It only half-worked, though; between lapses of long silences where his mind was too occupied to keep up a conversation, he’d make small talk, dancing around the subject of Supervillain entirely. Hero3 remained sitting quite still, save for his leg furiously bouncing in random bursts of energy. He would respond to Medic’s small talk with a few words, maybe a nod, then let the conversation die. 

Eventually, Hero3 could take it no more. He stood awkwardly as Medic looked up from his supplies. 

“Can I do something? Please?”

It was no abnormal request. Back before, when Villain was still required to stay in the medbay for monitoring, he would wake up during the night, screaming, sure that he was being dragged back to Supervillain. Each time, he lost more and more energy from the panic– and from avoiding sleep itself, too afraid of the dreams and flashbacks to even try.

At first, Medic had tried to stay up with him. He’d find himself some chart to study or medication to stock throughout the night, sometimes passing out before he could even log off of the system. Still, his sleep suffered right along with Villain’s, interrupted not only by the outbursts, but by his own worry that something might happen. 

Hero2 had been the first to notice. He had taken on some of the ordering tasks as practice, trying to automate them based on the previous month’s activity, and those orders ended up stocking the cafeteria and pantry. He was the one who first pointed out to Medic that the energy drink consumption rates were going up. Of course, Hero2 suspected Leader might have been overworking herself and had come to Medic for advice.

Medic, on his part, gave some generic advice and sent Hero2 on his way. From then on, Medic made sure to curb off his energy drinks, opting for more coffee, tea, anything. Then, Hero3 came to Medic when the giant trash trolley’s wheel broke, looking for the screwdriver Medic kept handy to adjust the one broken bed in the far corner that would not adjust without unscrewing each part. The crash had ripped some of the bags, one of them being the medbay general trash (though the medbay’s special trash was in a different container, thank goodness).

Still, Hero3 had cocked an eyebrow at the sea of green and orange cans littering the floor. His eyes, though they were not truly accusing, bored holes in Medic’s conscience as Hero3 spoke. He knelt to help gather up the cans as Hero3 spoke. “Maybe I’m wrong, but this is some kind of concern, isn’t it, Medic? I’ve got a barrel of about this many cans from the last three months, and this time I’m sure I didn’t forget the trash last week.”

Medic nodded hesitantly. “It… Certainly seems like it. Perhaps whoever’s drank these is just having a few all-nighters. I’ll post a notice for Hero2 to monitor this month’s performance, make sure it’s not a lasting issue.”

Hero3 nodded, working in silence until the cans were cleaned up. 

Then he looked up.

“Medic, these aren’t Leader’s. She confirmed, since the last time she tried them, she just crashed straight to sleep,” he said. “Hero2 said he asked you, meaning it wasn’t him. And I know I drink a few, but this could adequately hydrate two full armies.”

Medic couldn’t meet his eyes. After a long pause, he let out a breath. Before he could say anything else, Hero3 spoke again. “I hate to say it, Medic, but you can’t tell me this wasn’t you. You, of all people, touching someone else’s dirty cans without gloves or, at very least, hand sanitizer? Holding them all the way to your chest?”

Internally, Medic cursed Hero3’s incredible ability to read body language. He sighed fully this time, too worn down to argue it. “As I said. I’m sure whoever drank these is just having a few all-nighters,” he said, piling the last can into the trolley. “Don’t worry about it.”

Hero3’s stony expression seemed harsh at his words. “Medic. It’s either I hear what’s going on or Leader does. Your choice.”

A grimace crossed Medic’s face. Despite them being the same age– in fact, Leader was several months older– he still saw her as a younger sister somehow. Having her hear of his latest misstep, gathering not only her attention but her concern, was not an option. She already had too much on her plate, and he would not add to it when he could handle it by himself. Kind of. 

He worked his jaw, staring at the can he had just placed for a long time, before doing something much more difficult than losing more sleep.

“Can we talk on the way?”

And so he followed Hero3 through the base’s basement, telling him about Villain’s fears- his night terrors. How Medic couldn’t leave him so terrified, so he’d been staying up night after night with Villain. 

His mind seemed far, far away as he concluded. “I never thought it would get this bad, you know? It was just making do, but making do turned into… Well…”

They watched in silence as the last can traveled the conveyor belt, into the machine. At a loud beeping, Hero3 sighed and withdrew a key, opening the bottom of the bottle machine to shift the unusually-full contents of the bottle basket until the last can could fit. Pinning the receipt it printed to the bulletin board, his low voice grumbled. “It turned into this.”

It looked much worse, taking up so much space even after being crushed. 

[nyxicnymph]

Hi, hello, hey, can I request a X Thoma fic in a college au. Maybe something about dancing in the rain, I heard a song mentioning it, and now it won't leave my head.

npnp! Thank you for asking!

Rating: Teen and up. Warnings: None. Probably a short thing, I've been rotating this in my head for too long and still have no thoughts.

Thoma watched from around the bookshelf as you banged your head against the table. He winced in sympathy, then debated if he should set aside his own massive pile of work to help you.

His heart won over his common sense, and he set aside his books. He walked up to you, and set his hand on your shoulder gently. "Need some help?"

You jerked your head up in surprise, causing Thoma to pull his hand back and raise both in defensive surrender. Once you took in his figure, you sighed. "Um, well, I don't want to take advantage of anyone, but help would be nice, I guess."

Thoma pulled out a chair and sat down beside you. "Well, what do you need help with? I'm pretty good at most things."

You sighed. "This right here...."

The two of you studied for hours, bouncing back and forth between subjects. It turns out you two were studying almost the same things.

Thoma shut the last book, and a resounding "clap!" rang through the library. He winced, then looked at his watch. "Well, it's almost eight PM, so let's call it quits for the night. We can come back tomorrow, or whenever you'd like."

You nodded, unable to do much more between your stretch and yawn.

Thoma looked away quickly, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But something about you... he couldn't place his finger on it, but he wanted to be close to you.

How inappropriate of him, he laughs inside. How audacious.

You slid all your books into a book bag after your stretch, humming slightly. Thoma was getting ready to leave, but you grabbed his sleeve.

"Hey, you wanna grab something to eat? It feels unfair to ask you to help me and then not get you anything in return," you add.

Thome looks at you for a moment, his green eyes unwavering but unreadable. Then he smiles. "Sure!"

You smiled back at him, swinging your bag over your shoulder. "How do you feel about ramen?"

Thoma caught up to you quickly. "I have it occasionally, when Ayaka and Ayato feel like it."

You guys talked while making your way outside, where you stopped in your tracks. Thoma looked out and saw the rain.

You mumbled in worry, patting your pockets down, then rummaging through your bag. Finally, you sighed in defeat. "I don't have an umbrella. I'm sorry, Thoma."

Thoma laughed. "What for? It's not your fault it's raining, is it?"

You thought about it. "I guess not."

"So what's the problem? I don't care if I get a little wet, it might even be fun!" Seeing you still weren't convinced, he set his bag down on the tile. "Hey, watch this!"

He dashed through the doors and jumped in a puddle, effectively soaking the bottom of his pants. Then he twirled in that same puddle, before slightly mimicking the dance moves shown off in a popular idol MV.

You couldn't help yourself as a giggle slipped through your lips. You set your own bag down and stepped into the gentle shower, making your way over to him. "Here, it's like this!" You say, doing the move yourself.

Thoma watched as you continued the dance, mesmerized by the way you'd suddenly stopped caring about the rest of the world. And the way the rain sprinkled in your hair, resting like dewdrops before sinking in and flattening it.

He could live in this moment forever, quiet and content with you.

~fin~

[foodieforthoughts]

Journey through time - Part 3

Summary: Your relationship with Syverson over the years.

Warning: a little bit of angst and a lot of fluff. If you blink you might also see some smut.

A/N: Continuation to Part 2 of the photo series. Here's a link to Part 1 too. Thank you all for reading. I love you guys 😘♥️

Staying alone in Sy's house gave you an opportunity to find out more about your man. You were cleaning his study when you found a box shoved at the very back of a drawer with pictures inside. The first picture was a black and white photo of young Sy, probably in his early twenties. It looked like a candid picture, clicked by someone who must have attentively watched him while he read through some papers. As you rummaged through the box, you found a couple more candid pictures and a hand written letter addressed to Sy.

The box also contained polaroid pictures of a much older Sy. You picked up the one which looked fairly recent, maybe from only a couple of years ago. He had his signature beard, dressed in his suit with his smoldering eyes staring back at you. Behind were the words, "I count myself as extremely fortunate to have accompanied you on your big night, my love." Signed only as "M". You got the sinking gut feeling that it was from an ex-girlfriend, but what affected you more was that Sy had kept her things still.

Opening the letter and finding another picture inside, you took a moment to look at your man. You had no clue who were those people with him in the picture which only made you realise how little you knew about Sy. The letter mentioned how the person felt like they weren't a part of Sy's life anymore. "I invested too many years to be with you and yet I am here, all alone. I can't take it anymore." It read, continuing to jot down ways in which the person felt lonely while Sy was away and that is why she was deciding to break off their relationship. Your hear sank as you read it over and over again, noting how the edges of the paper was crumbled from being opened too many times. Keeping the box back in its place, you couldn't help but think back on everything that was mentioned as the silence in the big house seemed to envelope you.

You stared at your computer screen showing that you were online, waiting for the green dot to appear on Sy's image signifying that he was online on Skype too. It was your birthday tonight and before leaving, Sy had promised he would have long distance birthday dinner with you over video call. You had cooked his favorite recipe of Sloppy Joe's and got his favorite beer brand, even if you hated the taste of it. Your wait for a few minutes turned to hours with your food gone cold and beer turned warm. You looked at the screen, noting that it was past midnight now and your birthday was over. You couldn't help but cry when you shut down your computer, leaving your food on the table untouched and crawling into bed while thinking back on the letter and imagining if this is exactly how the other girl might have felt.

You sucked in a deep breath before receiving the video call from Sy. It was unexpected and unplanned, but it made your heart swell when his face appeared on the screen. Sy did not smile, he looked lost and deep in thought. Even with the awful quality of the call, you noticed the new scars on his face and how he looked like he had aged over a decade. Your talks were formal, mostly asking about how the other had been, general talk about health and wellbeing. But then you couldn't help but blurt out, "You missed my birthday." Sy sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, "I'm sorry but I had a rough week." You wanted to be understanding but the letter kept repeating its words in your mind and when you looked around, you only saw the emptiness. "But you had promised about dinner on my birthday." In an instant, Sy's voice came out like rumbling thunder. "If you want someone to be at your beck and call, maybe you should think what the hell are you doing with me. I can't be there all the time, I have a job to do here." His roaring voice came out loud from your speakers, bringing tears in your eyes. Anger and sadness mixed together and with a trembling voice, you said, "Maybe I really should think what I'm doing with you. Goodbye, Sy." You disconnected the call with painful heaviness in your heart.

Over the next weeks, you got several calls from Sy but you only spoke to him asking him about his health. The moment he would try to talk about what happened over the video call, you would change the subject. Then one day you got a video message sent to you by Sy. It was being filmed by someone else while Sy stood with a spray painted green German Shepherd. You watched as Sy instructed the dog called "Aika" to fetch a writing pad with papers stuck to it from the steps of the building and turn it around to face the camera. Sy crouched down next to Aika and the first paper read, "I'm very sorry about missing your birthday." He turned the sheet of paper over and the next one had "I'm sorry about acting like a dick the other night." When he turned the paper again, it read in bold letters, "I love you and I don't want to lose you." You felt the stinging feel of tears in your eyes as Sy came forward and spoke directly into the camera, "Dinner with me tonight? I'll make up for everything, I promise." Before the video cut, you heard men laughing in the background with someone shouting, "Captain's so whipped!" and imitating the sound of a whip slashing through the air.

That night, dinner was less about eating and more about sharing your feelings. Sy listened to how you felt about him missing your birthday, apologising profusely about it and telling you he'll make up for it when he gets back. But you felt like a bitch when he told you about his week and how he had lost two of his men during an attack on them. It was now your turn to apologize with tears in your eyes as you imagined losing Sy. You didn't want to ruin the mood but you had to ask about the box. "Who's M, Sy?" You watched as his expression had turned solemn and he had sighed heavily. "I take that you found the box? She was my girlfriend before you. We had been together since college and I won't lie, I really wanted to marry her. But, I couldn't give her the kind of life she wanted." You could hear the sadness in his voice while he spoke. "Do you still love her?" he answered in an instant, "Of course not! I love you, babe. I want no one but you. You can even throw away the box if you want, I just never got back to it and throw it away myself." He then proceeded to tell you he wanted to make you feel his love and explained what he had planned, which made you blush but reluctantly you obliged. Even with the distance of many, many miles between the two of you, you pleasured one another over the call while repeatedly professing how much you loved each other.

You had bounced on your feet nervously while watching the arriving flights displayed on the screen. Sy was coming home and your excitement knew no bounds. His tour had been extended by four more weeks which meant you hadn't seen him in person for almost half a year. But family came first so when he had asked if he could go directly to Austin to meet his folks, you hadn't objected. "What's one more week until I meet you?" You had joked although deep down you craved to be in his arms again. When newly arrived passengers started filing out through the doors, your heart drummed in your chest with anticipation. You nearly skipped a beat when Sy walked out the door with his bags, thinking about the time when many months ago you had bumped into him at this very airport, searching through the crowd for you. His bearded face broke out into a huge smile when he spotted you and you almost made a run for him, launching yourself into his arms while planting kisses all over his face. "God, I missed you so much." He said, hugging you tightly to his chest and not letting go of you for a long time.

The very next day, Sy had taken you out for dinner at the most fancy restaurant in town. You noticed how he was fidgety and nervous, looking at his watch several times. It worried you even more when for the third time that night, he excused himself and left the table. You wondered if he was sick but then were left confused when all of a sudden the speakers started playing the familiar tune of your favorite romantic song. You looked around puzzled but was taken by surprise when Sy walked to you and dropped down on one knee. With a tender smile on his lips he said, "I never knew what I really wanted from my life until I met you. Countless times I have prayed to the heavens for making you bump into me on that day. I was at the right place at the right time, for I met the most amazing and beautiful woman on this planet." You felt you heart pick up a pace knowing exactly what Sy was going to do. Fishing out a blue velvet box from his pocket and opening it to reveal a magnificent diamond ring, Sy continued, "Darlin' will you marry me and make me the luckiest man alive?" There was no hesitation in your voice when you nodded fervently and repeated "yes" several times, hugging and kissing Sy before he placed the ring on your finger while everyone around clapped for the two of you.

Continued to Part 4

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

My Light in a Dark Place – Six (Tamaki Amajiki x OFC)

MASTERLIST | MLDP MASTERLIST

A/N: Sorry these updates are a bit spread out than I mean. Construction on where I live just started, work is taking up a lot of time, I'm binging my Pokemon game, and I'm celebrating my grandma's 100th birthday this weekend. Life is coming at me hard. But hey, at least I got this out! Thank you for reading!

Chapter Warnings: none

Words: 2.4k

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

As promised, Tamaki shuffles in through the doors of Yuki’s shop the following evening with a timid smile on his lips. After stressing the entire day over his arrival, Yuki’s Quirk activates to a strength that outshines the light in her store. A customer squints until Yuki – embarrassed by her reaction – apologizes and regains control.

Tamaki waits a few minutes, studying some of Yuki’s flowers, as she rings the customer up with kind words and a cheerful smile. The moment the man receives his change and leaves, Tamaki walks up to the counter, his cheeks pink from her blinding reaction to his arrival.

“You came.”

“I promised.”

Yuki fiddles with a pen on her counter. “I thought after yesterday when I…”

“It’s okay. I’m… I’m not upset.” His ears start to turn red. “I was… surprised.”

“I’m really sorry about that. I was holding back the entire time you were over for your sake and then the one time I wasn’t thinking… I just acted.”

“Eijiro told me.”

“What? I thought he was off today?”

“He, um, he came by to… to report in on the mission.”

“Oh. I guess that explains why he was gone this morning.”

Tamaki nods and lets the silence settle around them.

Yuki leans on the counter and stares at her chipped nail polish. “Um… Nejire called this morning to tell me the daisies will make it here on time. She’s amazing.”

“Mirio is… very lucky.”

She nods. “Did… Did you ever like Nejire the way Mirio does?”

Like with any personal subject, Tamaki blushes. “N-Not like that, no… M-Maybe… Maybe a crush a long… a long time ago, but… nothing like Mirio. He’s always loved her.”

“That’s so cute.” Yuki leans on her hand. “To have what they have… I had no idea there was anything between them in high school. Honestly, I thought you two were dating because Nejire was always around you and encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. I guess I read the room wrong.”

“Y-Y-Yeah…”

Yuki checks her watch to see it’s after closing. “Hey, do you wanna grab dinner with me somewhere since I’m supposed to be closed now?”

“With… With me?”

“Do you have somewhere to be tonight? If so, that’s okay. I figured I’d offer it as a thank you for the last few days. I know we spent a ton of time together, but I really enjoyed getting to know you. I’d love another opportunity to hang out together. Just us.”

“O-Okay.”

“Really?”

A nod.

Yuki bounces around the counter to wrap her arms around Tamaki’s shoulders in a tight hug. A smile winds up on her face when one of his hands presses against her back. It certainly isn’t a hug like Kirishima’s but feeling him react to the hug rather than tensing is progress. He’ll come out of his shell around me one of these days. I just know it.

–

Sitting across from Tamaki in a booth, Yuki studies the little diner they settled on. It’s a twist on Western-style diners from the 1950s with black and white tile flooring, sleek metal-edged counters and seats, and staff dressed in 50s clothing. Yuki loves eating there and the prices are pretty cheap. And the smells are to die for. It always smells like cooking hamburgers and fries. Plus, a hint of something sweet.

“The food here is so good, Tamaki,” Yuki says, setting her menu aside. “I eat here more than I should, but I’m always craving something from here. I hope you’ll like eating here, too.”

Tamaki’s eyes scan the menu. “I will.”

Yuki smiles at him. “Is there anything you’re interested in trying? I can suggest some things.”

“It’s okay… I… I like most foods because…”

“Because of your QuirK?”

He nods.

“I guess you had to see what foods you could use for manifestation, huh? That’s cool. What’s the most unexpected thing you’ve manifested?”

Tamaki blushes. “Oh, uh… I accidentally ate a cat hair and-and grew a tail and ears.”

“That’s so cute!”

“Th-Thanks.”

“What happens if you eat something from a human? If they have a Quirk, could you use it? Or… Or could you change a feature of yours to look like them?”

“I-I don’t know. I haven’t really tried.”

“Oh. Well, if you ever do, I’d be interested in knowing what happens. Sorry if that’s weird. I’ve always been curious since the first time I saw your Quirk in action.”

“Really?”

Yuki nods vigorously. “You can do so many cool things with your Quirk simply by eating something and that’s super cool!”

“It’s not… that cool…”

“You might not think so, but I do. There’s a reason you were a part of the Big Three.”

Tamaki looks at Yuki, cheeks still red. “I-I think your Quirk is… is really cool.”

It’s finally time for Yuki to get flustered. “Oh, no. That can’t be true. I’m a glorified night light!”

“But… you can produce light and warmth to grow plants.”

“Yeah and that’s really all I can do. Nothing too special about it.”

“And… And you’ve used your Quirk to save people trapped in caves… or under collapsed buildings. You make it… it easier to find lost people.”

He knows about me doing that? “I suppose…”

“You remind me of a-a firefly.”

Her lavender eyes meet his indigo eyes. “Fireflies are bugs.”

Tamaki tries to backtrack his statement or attempt to explain what he means, but their waitress comes up to take their order. It doesn’t stop him from trying after she steps away.

“I… I like fireflies.” Tamaki looks at the tabletop. “They’re pretty… and… and remind me of s-summer.”

Both of them struggle to keep their flushed skin under control, suddenly having a hard time looking at one another.

Does that mean he thinks I’m pretty? “Oh… Um… Then I guess… I guess being compared to a bug isn’t so bad.”

“I like insects,” Tamaki states quietly. “Butterflies especially.”

“It’s a shame I don’t remind you of a butterfly…” Yuki’s eyes widen, and she hides her face under her hand. “Oh. Please ignore I said that. I… I don’t mean anything by it, just… forget that those words came out of my mouth.” Wow, Yuki. Crushing hard now, aren’t you? She inwardly mocks herself, repeating what she said with a stupid voice.

Tamaki is embarrassed by her statement but watches her curiously as he wonders if she meant it. Not that her lack of butterfly traits would change how he feels about her. That thought alone shifts Tamaki’s gaze to the window where he watches a few cars leave the lot.

“I’m sorry… I sometimes forget to not say things.” Yuki looks at her hands in her lap. “I don’t want you to feel awkward around me…”

“I don’t.”

Their eyes met and Yuki notes the soft smile below under his rosy cheeks.

“Good.” Her voice is unusually breathy. A delicate light emits from her skin. “So, what does your day look like tomorrow?”

For hours, the two chat in that little booth getting to know each other even better than before. Many laughs and soft chuckles sound between them with few awkward moments. Tamaki feels more like himself with her, like with Mirio. And Yuki can’t keep her Quirk or smile under control, resulting in an interesting walk home.

Her arms tighten around Tamaki’s neck from where she hangs on his back, careful not to put pressure on his throat. His hands stay firmly under her knees to keep her steady despite the small amount of nervous perspiration accumulating from his palms. Yuki rests her chin on his shoulder and eyes his pointed ear.

“Do your parents have pointy ears, too?”

He hums and nods.

“That’s cool. I wish I had a cool feature like elf ears or something. I’ve been considered albino all of my life, which I suppose they aren’t wrong. But that’s all I have.” She sighs. “No horns, no pointy teeth… nothing other than pale skin, pale hair, and purple eyes. My mom and dad looked the same, too. Well… I look like them.”

“I… I like the way y-you look…”

He can’t see her turn bright red, so Yuki hides her face in his hair that he put up to keep out of his face.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “If only we knew each other when my classmates made fun of me. I never would have believed them if you were around to tell me they were wrong…”

Tamaki nods again and his grip on her legs tightens slightly.

Yuki looks up at a passing street sign and sees they’re close to Kirishima’s house. “Hey, Tamaki? Wanna go pay Eijiro a visit? He’s not patrolling tonight, right?”

“He’s not. We can… if you’d like to.”

“Yeah. Let’s go say hello.”

“You’ll… be okay?”

“Mmhmm. Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably end up staying there tonight and I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.” Yuki pokes Tamaki’s cheek. “I don’t need intense care because I’m not socially exhausted. I just hung out with someone who makes me glow a lot because I like seeing him break out of his shell around me.” Not because I have a crush on him. Not at all.

“O-Oh.”

Another poke. “Yup. Be happy that you make me happy, Tamaki. I’m glad we’re able to be friends and I hope we never stop.”

“I… I hope so, too.”

“Good.” She squeezes around him once more. “Now! Onward to Kiri!”

Tamaki’s soft chuckle makes Yuki’s heart swell. Anything to make him smile and relax…

–

“What a surprise to find you two here,” Kirishima grins after opening his front door to an interesting sight of Yuki sliding off Tamaki's back. He leans against the doorframe, a toothbrush in his mouth. “What have you been up to tonight?”

Yuki is completely unfazed by her best friend’s lack of a shirt and shuffles up to him to hug him. “We had dinner together.”

Kirishima almost chokes on his toothbrush. “What? Like a date?”

“No!” Tamaki and Yuki shout, both turning red.

“We just ate food and got to know each other better!” Yuki whines against Kirishima’s chest.

“Sounds an awful lot like a date to me. And he even carried you here.”

Tamaki stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns away from his hero partner. “She used too much… ah, energy.”

“Uh huh. I bet because she used her Quirk too much because she was happy.”

“Quiet you,” Yuki pokes his chest. “We were hanging out as friends. Stop making Tamaki anxious.”

Kirishima looks at Tamaki, somehow feeling that it isn’t just anxiety making him nervous. “Fine, fine. Thank you for taking care of getting her here and entertaining her at dinner. You’re welcome to do this again in the future if you want.”

“Stop it, Eijiro. You’re not my father and he’s not my boyfriend.”

The word hovers over the three of them. Each feeling the depth of the word differently.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs. “I can’t help it. Well, I’m going to finish getting ready for bed, so if you’re gonna stay, Yuki, I’ll let you send Tamaki on his way.” And with one lingering look at the two, Kirishima slips back inside.

“Gosh… he’s so embarrassing,” Yuki groans, walking over to Tamaki. “I’m sorry you have to work with him.”

Her little snicker makes Tamaki shrug as he stares at her from under his bangs. “He’s all right… most days.”

She smiles at him. “Hey, thanks for hanging out with me tonight. I had a lot of fun. The wedding is in a few more days, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome. Well, if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at the wedding.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Yuki.”

“Night, Tamaki.” She pulls him in for a quick hug. “Please tell me when you make it home, okay?”

He nods and starts walking away with a little smile.

“Tamaki!” she whispers loud enough for him to hear.

“Hm?” He turns.

“Sleep well, okay? Dream of butterflies and fireflies, okay?”

That’s what brings a subtle pink to his cheeks. “M-Maybe.”

Yuki gives him one little wave with her fingers before turning and skipping into Kirishima’s home with a quick peek through the crack of the shutting door at Tamaki watching her in awe. How cute.

The door clicks shut.

“You’re crushing on Tamaki so hard right now.”

Yuki screams and turns, smacking Kirishima’s arm. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“It’s not my fault you’re so caught up in your date with him.”

“I told you it wasn’t a date.”

“And I still don’t believe you.”

“He dropped me off at another guy’s house. If it was a date, Tamaki wouldn’t have been okay with it.”

Kirishima smirks. “Yeah, but he understands our friendship better than most, so he’s not going to question you coming over here.”

“Well… Well, he didn’t seem too upset or anything that you answered the door half-naked.”

“You can keep making excuses, but I’m still calling that a date. And damn, you looked pretty cozy hanging onto him as he carried you down the walkway. Yeah, I noticed you coming from my bathroom window when you guys were across the street.”

“Leave me alone, Kiri! I just want to enjoy being friends with Tamaki!”

“All right, all right. I’ll keep my teases at a minimum.”

“I doubt it, but whatever. I’m sleepy. Are you cool with me crashing here?”

“As always, yes.” He drapes his arm across her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you into your dreams where you can cuddle Tamaki while snuggled in with me.”

“What the heck?!” She throws his arm off her and stomps up to his bedroom.

“I had to make one more! I’m sorry!”

Yuki doesn’t respond. But she does scream again when the sound of Kirishima rushing up the stairs toward her starts up, making her sprint and dive under his covers. Another scream leaves her after he leaps onto the bed, fingers finding her ticklish spots on her sides.

“Sto-op!” Yuki laughs, wiggling under her friend to try and get away from his persistent fingers.

“Not until you admit you’ve got it bad for Tamaki after a couple of months.”

“N-N-Never!”

“You brought this upon yourself!”

More laughs and screams sound in the room until Kirishima flops onto his side beside her with a grin.

“Jerk,” she breathes, trying to catch her breath.

“But you love me!”

“Sometimes.”

Kirishima pulls her against him and kisses the side of her head. “That’s all right. I know the truth.”

Yuki’s eyes begin to shut as his warmth envelopes her. His slowing heartbeat soothes her toward sleep.

“Jokes aside, I’m glad you and Tamaki have each other. As friends, or whatever you want to be.”

“Me… too…”

“Just… don’t hesitate to tell him how you feel when you’re really sure you want to be with him. I don’t know if he’ll have the nerve to tell you himself.”

“Okay… I’ll do… that.”

The hero chuckles and brushes her hair a bit with his fingers. “Get some sleep. I’ll walk you home before I leave for work. Sweet dreams.”

A mumble of a similar sentiment comes from her parted lips, but Yuki is already halfway into her dreams.

Kirishima hugs her closer. “See you in the morning.”

I wonder if I’ll see Tamaki tomorrow…

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 7

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

3rd Person POV

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts wakes up to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake freezes solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban, (Y/n) watching with a smirk on her face. The few owls that had managed to battle their way though the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

"I do feel so sorry," says Draco Malfoy during a Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home, or those who have to stay at someone else's house because they have no parents," he adds, (Y/n) staring at her perfected potion, her eyes flashing a silver before flickering back to green; Hermione shoots him a hateful glare.

The blond had been staring at Harry and (Y/n) as he had spoke, Crabbe and Goyle chuckling. Harry, who had been measuring powdered spine of lion-fish, ignores him. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing (Y/n) as Seeker next; then he'd realized that nobody had found this funny, because everyone had been so impressed on how well (Y/n) had managed to stay on her broom. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry and (Y/n) about having, either, no proper family, or no family at all.

(Y/n) had just turned in a vile of her potion, Snape looking at it, then nods, scribbling a 100 into his grade-book, nodding to the girl. "Ten points to Gryffindor," he announces to the class, everyone looking up, "for Miss (L/n)'s perfect potion." (Y/n) shoots a smirk at Malfoy, who had been trying to outdo her in Potions from the first class. Hermione, Harry, Ron, and the Spences hiding smiles as steam practically gushes from Malfoy's ears.

When they leave the dungeons at the end of Potions, they find a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound tells them that Hagrid is behind it.

"Hey Hagrid, need any help?" Ron asks, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" Malfoy's cold drawling voice comes from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose — that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dives at Malfoy just as Snape comes up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron lets go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"Professor, Malfoy was insulting his family," (Y/n) says, taking a step forward towards the Potions Master.

"Five points from Slytherin," Snape tells Malfoy, and Malfoy sends a hateful glare at (Y/n).

The Potions Master walks away and Malfoy turns to (Y/n).

"What's wrong Draco?" (Y/n) asks in false sympathy. "Feel bad being worse than a orphaned Mudblood?" she asks, stepping towards the blond.

"Shut up!" He says. "My father will hear about this (L/n), and then you'll be sorry," he says.

(Y/n) glances around, "Look's like he's not here. See you around, Blondie," (Y/n) says, turning around and walking back towards Hagrid and her friends, all of them were staring at her with wide eyes.

"That was bloody brilliant," Ron says, and (Y/n) laughs. "I'll get him," Ron says suddenly, grinding his teeth. "One of these days, I'll get Malfoy -"

"I hate them both, Snape and Malfoy," says Harry.

"Come on, cheer up. It's nearly Christmas," says Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the six of them follow Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick are busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree — put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looks spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hang all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stand around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asks.

"Just one," says Hermione. "And that reminds me — Harry, Ron, (Y/n) we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," says Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who has golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and is trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" says Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry tells him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looks shocked. "Listen here — I've told yeh — drop it.It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"Actually," (Y/n) interjects. "That's what their doing. Snape gave me extra homework over the break." (Y/n) rolls here eyes.

"Looks like being a Potions prodigy might not be such a good thing," Ron says, and (Y/n) rolls her eyes.

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," says Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry adds. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere — just give us a hint — I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'," said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," say Ron, and they leave Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurries off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. (Y/n) has the strangest feeling that she had heard or seen that name somewhere in her extra Potions homework. Flamel wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time;he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione takes out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. (Y/n) had taken out her Potions homework.

Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What are you looking for, boy?"

"Nothing," answers Harry.

Madam Pince the librarian brandishes a feather duster at him.

"You'd better get out, then. Go on — out!"

Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Ron, Hermione, and the twins had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them,but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.

Harry waits outside in the corridor to see if the other four had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really need was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

Five minutes later, Ron, Hermione, and (Y/n) join him, Ron and Hermione shaking their head; they go off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while we're away, won't you?" asks Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," says Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

(Y/n) lets out a laugh as Hermione continues.

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," says Hermione.

That evening has Hermione and (Y/n) and (Y/n) packing, getting ready to leave the following morning.

(Y/n) flops down on her bed and Marvel jumps up, her paws placed on (Y/n)'s cheeks.

(Y/n) smiles at Hermione as throws a blanket over (Y/n) and her cat.

The next morning, Hermione wakes up (Y/n) and (Y/n) places Marvel in her basket.

(Y/n) places the straps on her guitar and slings it over her back.

The two take their packed trunks downstairs, making sure to say goodbye to Harry and Ron before they leave.

The sisters take the carriages down to the Hogwarts' Express and they board the train.

(Y/n) pulls out her Potions homework and works through it, but gets stuck on the last question. She runs her hands through her sleek (H/c) hair.

Thinking for a while, she finally finally finishes the question, pulls her trunk off the shelf, and puts her homework inside.

"I feel so accomplished," (Y/n) grumbles,  sitting back down and leaning her head against the window.

Marvel jumps out of her travel basket and hops into Hermione's lap.

(Y/n) glances at her guitar resting next to her in her seat before she picks it up and begins to strum.

Hermione smiles as (Y/n) finishes playing and then (Y/n) places the guitar on her back.

"Come on 'Mione," (Y/n) says pulling down her and her sister's trunks and Marvel's carrying basket.

Hermione's smile widens as she grabs her trunk and Marvel jumps onto her shoulder.

Hermione jumps down after (Y/n) and (Y/n)'s arm shoots out to steady Hermione as she stumbles.

Hermione beams at her sister and (Y/n) shakes her head, an amused light in her eyes.

The two walk through the barrier and it seems to be more dreary in the Muggle world then on Platform 9 and 3 Quarters.

"What happened?" (Y/n) murmurs to Hermione as they walk towards their parents.

"Hi Mum! Hi Dad!" Hermione says cheerfully and (Y/n) gives a little wave.

Mr. Granger gives (Y/n) a hug, and (Y/n) returns it warmly.

Mrs. Granger greets her adopted daughter with a kiss to the forehead and a hug.

"Hi Mum, Dad!" (Y/n) greets with a warm smile.

"Hi, girls," Mrs. Grangers says. "Let's get home."

"Best thing I've heard all day," (Y/n) says with a grin.

Mr. Granger laughs and the four - plus Marvel - walk out to the car.

"I dunno," Hermione says. "Your guitar playing skills are pretty great."

"Oh stop," (Y/n) says with a smile.

"I guess we'll have to hear it at home," Mrs. Granger says as Hermione and (Y/n) load their trunks into the boot of the car.

(Y/n) gently sets her guitar on the top of her trunk before Mr. Granger closes the boot.

(Y/n) climbs into the car next to her sister and Marvel jumps down to sit in between the two.

Listening to the radio on the way home, (Y/n) listens closely to the news:

"Legendary weapons developer Howard Stark, as well as his wife, was found dead a few days ago. The death of his parents seemingly haunted Tony Stark after the disappearance and presumed death of his daughter and girlfriend about ten years ago when he was around the age of nineteen."

Poor guy, (Y/n) thinks. Imagine loosing the love of your life, your daughter, and your parents. I guess I kind of know what that's like, though I wasn't old enough to comprehend it at the time.

Hermione glances over at her sister who was staring off into the distance.

As if sensing Hermione's gaze on her, (Y/n) looks back over at her with a warm smile.

Hermione shoots (Y/n) a quizzical look but (Y/n) shakes her head.

Marvel tilts her head and pads forward, thrusting her head under (Y/n)'s chin. (Y/n) smiles and scratches behind the kitten's ears.

(Y/n) strokes the kitten's black-and-white fur, remaining silent as the car ride goes on.

Once the four - plus Marvel - arrive back home, (Y/n) helps Mr. Granger unload the trunks from the back of the car, but not before slinging her guitar over her back.

Word Count: 2194 words

Love,           Kaitlynn ❤😘

[nurloxx]

tale as old as time

summary: it’s bedtime, and kam’lu is in charge of telling the story

a/n: MAY’LU SHIPPERS COME GET Y’ALL JUICE

"What story do you think papa is going to tell this time?" Brea asked from where she sat on her mother's lap as the older Vapra diligently combed her long pale locks.

"It better not be the one where he got sun frenzy and thought a Hooyim was trying to speak to him." Seladon sighed, running a silver brush through her own hair. She was curled up on a mountain of plush velvet pillows beside her sister Tavra, who was fidgeting impatiently.

"I just hope it's not boring." she said simply.

Mayrin chuckled as she finished up, pecking Brea on the forehead and placing her back down so she could rejoin her sisters on the bed.

"I'm sure whatever your father has planned won't dissapoint." She then discreetly added under her breath. "I hope...."

"Do my ears deceive me or are there four fair gelfling maidens in dire need of a story?"

Four heads simultaneously turned in the direction of a playful voice that boomed from down the hall. The girls squealed in unison as the door swung open to reveal the form of their father, and they abandoned the bed in favor of crowding around his legs enthusiastically.

Kam'lu laughed heartily, scooping his two youngest daughters into his arms, then bending down so that his eldest could climb up on his back.

Mayrin rolled her eyes. "Love, you know they're not supposed to get too excited. It is their bedtime after all."

The Sifa captain gave her a lopsided grin. "Oh but bedtime is the most exciting time of the day, didn't you know? Especially tonights!" He dug his fingers into Tavra and Brea's sides, making them squeal and shriek with laughter.

"Papa, do you have a story for us?" Brea asked, her characteristic curious pools of gold twinkling.

"He better!" Tavra jabbed her tiny finger into her father's chest. "Otherwise I stayed awake for nothing!"

"Fear not my beauties. Tonight's story is a very special one." He gently placed them all down on the pile of cushions, claiming his spot on the biggest one. "One I think your mother will be quite familiar with."

Mayrin almost wanted to ask what Kam'lu was getting at, but the knowing look he threw over his shoulder gave her all the clarification she needed. Smiling, she stood from the vanity chair and got comfortable next to her mate. Their hands interlaced in clear view of their daughters, both not even needing to think about the action. It was practically second nature at that point.

"So, first things first. I have a question for you all." Mayrin gestured between her and Kam'lu. "Do you believe our initial meeting was love at first sight?"

Brea nodded enthusiastically, while Tavra and Seladon shared a look of doubt.

"I'd be surprised if it was..." Seladon muttered.

Mayrin tittered, putting her fingers to her lips. "You'd be correct, my dear. When I first encountered your father, we couldn't have been more different from each other. In the back of my mind I couldn't even begin to fathom how I'd be able to get along with someone so oafish, and thick skulled, and brash-"

"Really feeling the love here...." Kam'lu deflated, ears pinning to the sides of his head. He was actually pouting, and it caused his mate to let out a proper laugh.

"You didn't let me finish." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I truly did believe you to be all those things. However, I'd be proven wrong later on. You were so much more, my love."

The smile slowly returned to Kam'lus face. He kissed her cheek, nuzzling it tenderly. "And to think, all it took was being swallowed up by a sea monster and fighting for our lives trying to escape."

"Wait, you got swallowed by a what?!" Brea exclaimed in disbelief, bouncing around in her seat.

"Sea monster?!" Tavra balked.

"How did you get out?!" Seladon placed a hand to her chest, eyes wide in shock.

The questions continued to pour in at a steady rate.

"Was it a big monster?"

"Did you fight it?!"

"Did you have to light a fire inside it's belly and have it sneeze you out?!"

All eyes in the room fell on Brea with varying levels of puzzlement.

She merely shrugged. "It was in one of my books."

Kam'lu and Mayrin bursted out laughing at that, the older Sifa having to wipe away a tear or two. Such differing personalities their daughters had, but it made them all the more lovable in their eyes.

"That is where our story begins, my young ones. You see, it was a rather dreary and stormy night. The waves had become quite restless..." Kam'lu started his tale, motioning with his hands for the girls to come in closer. They did so without question.

Despite her mate's rather.... eccentric style of storytelling, Mayrin found herself being oddly soothed by it. She studied her daughter's faces with a serene expression. Brea and Tavra seemed the most enraptured, while Seladon appeared more concerned than anything else.

A larger pale hand subtly reached out to grasp hers, and she unconsciously squeezed back.

"..... when we were suddenly face to face with Bobling King himself! Oh he was as helpful as he was fearsome!" Kam'lu made large theatric gestures with his arms, and Mayrin wasn't sure if it was solely for the girls amusement or if he genuinely remembered the King Bobling in that way.

"Pfft, he doesn't sound so scary." Tavra scoffed, crossing her arms.

"That's because he wasn't, dear." Mayrin interjected. She turned to Kam'lu and raised a brow at him. "Love, he barely reached your knee."

"I'm sorry, who is the one telling the story here?"

She pinched the tip of his ear, eliciting a slight yelp from him. "I was there too, you fool." When before the word rolled off her tongue with scorn and exasperation, now there was only fondness present in the Vapra's tone.

This time it was Seladon's turn to laugh. She doubled over on the pillow, clutching her stomach. "Father, you were scared by something so small?" Her sisters soon followed suite, and even Mayrin couldn't resist letting out a chuckle at Kam'lus expense.

The older Sifa's cheeks flared red, and he huffed indignantly. "Well, if that's how you're all going to act, then I think we should cut this story short."

He was only joking of course, but they didn't know that. At least, his daughters didn't. Only Mayrin seemed to catch on to the slight mischievous glint in his eye that told her he didn't really take it to heart.

"No!!!!" Three pairs of arms shot out and latched onto Kam'lu before he could even think about getting up.

"We're sorry Papa!"

"Yeah, really really sorry!"

"You gotta finish the story!"

He looked down at the pleading faces of his little ones, and feigned a look of pensiveness.

"Well, I suppose I can't stay mad at my beauties for long, can I?"

"No, no you can't." Mayrin smirked, playing with a lock of russet colored hair. "We all have you wrapped around our fingers. Forever."

"There's no other fate on Thra I'd rather resign myself to. Now then," He pulled his mate, along with his daughters onto his lap, much to their amusement. It was a tight fit, but they managed. "As I was saying, we had begun our treacherous journey into the belly of the beast..."

Kam'lu smoothly picked up where he had left off, progressing through the rest of the story with little to no interruptions. Though he had to pause multiple times to chuckle at Tavra's starstruck expression when the subject of the flying Zoa and the final battle aboard skekSa's ship came up.

"From that day on, I swore I'd stay by your mother's side through thick and thin. No matter what unholy terrors Thra tossed our way, I'd be right there with her." Kam'lu smiled lovingly, kissing the head of his mate, who hummed in acknowledgement.

"And not long after, we had our first daughter. Our little Seladon." Mayrin cooed, cupping her eldest's cheek and stroking it with her thumb. "Do you remember where your name comes from, dearest?"

"It was the name of a famous Vapran general, right? The one who saved her village from an avalanche?"

Mayrin nodded, tapping her nose. "That's exactly right. I sensed a very stalwart spirit when I was pregnant with you, and I wanted your name to reflect that."

"Can we hear that story next?" Brea asked, yawning.

Kam'lu chuckled. "I'm afraid we'll have to save that particular tale for another night. For now, I think it's time for my beauties to get some sleep."

A low whine of protest sounded from each girl, and Mayrin gently shushed them. "Your father's right. It's already past your bedtime, and you have a big day tomorrow."

"We do?" They all tilted their heads curiously.

Kam'lu grinned. "Yes! It'll be a nice sunny day tomorrow, and I figured what better way to spend it than to take all of you out on the ship for the afternoon."

"So the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner morning will come, and we can ready ourselves accordingly." Mayrin collected her daughters into her arms as she spoke, tucking them each into their respective beds and kissing them goodnight. Kam'lu went around to do the same, saying quiet Sifan prayers under his breath as he did so.

When they were finally laid to rest, Mayrin quietly stepped out of the room, holding the door open for her mate to join her in the hallway.

"Well, let it never be said that I didn't marry a halfway decent storyteller." She jested, elbowing Kam'lu in the side. "Better than I could have told it anyway."

"Ah, so you finally admit I'm better than you at something. Never thought I'd live to see the day." He grinned smugly.

Mayrin popped him on the shoulder. "Don't let it go to your head now. You're a better storyteller than you are a captain, let's put it that way." She ribbed him teasingly. Then she began to saunter ahead of him towards their bed chambers.

"Come, the hour is late and I could use some shut-eye myself."

Kam'lu watched her go at first, making sure her back was completely turned to him before responding.

"Right away, my All Maudra."

In one fluid motion Kam'lu came up behind Mayrin and swept her up into a bridal carry, walking her the rest of the way with a big smile on his face.

She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter lest she wake the children.

He couldn't see it, but she was wearing a grin big enough to rival his.

[delightfulclouddreamer]

Outburst

Young!Remus Lupin x Gryffindor!Reader

Synopsis: You were a fierce Gryffindor, you loved Quidditch and were really good at it, you loved Care of magical creatures, but you didn't like studying for other subjects. Remus, on the other hand, wasn't good at Quidditch, he didn't like Care of Magical Creatures, but was good at it, like at every single subject. You don't talk with each other, you don't like his friend, but he has always been intriguing. Sirius has his eyes on you. What will happen?

"Y/N!, come on or we'll be late for potions!" YF/N (your friend's name) yelled at you, you were currently reading in the common room, not aware of time. "Yeah right, let's go," you told her, she just shrugged, it has been four years and you have yet to be on time for potions, or whatever subject except for Care of magical creatures.

As you walked towards the classroom your attention was caught from the 4 troublemakers of Hogwarts, you sighed here he comes.

"Hello gorgeous, How you doing today?" The one and o ky Sirius Black asked you putting his arm around your shoulders. "Better before I saw you" you replied removing his hand from where it was.

"Oh don't say that, I know deep down you love me"

"In your dreams Black, now if you have finished with this theatre, I would like to go to the classroom, without you following me," you said angrily, his attitude made your blood boil.

"Goodbye to all of you" you stated madly "Oh and have a nice day Remus," you said smiling to the shy boy behind Potter and Sirius, you turned and started walking away so fast that you didn't see his face becoming a deep shade of red.

"Sirius up your gaze" you yelled not looking back, Sirius reddened while YF/N laughed. You smiled.

Potion was so boring, Slughorn was so boring, you were so absorbed in drawing the shape of an Hyppogriff that you didn't hear the teacher ending the lesson.

"Y/N", you looked up and noticed the empty classroom, abruptly you stood up, you were so caught up that you didn't notice who exactly was in front of you, you stopped for a moment and looked up.

There he was, immobile, gazing at you, Remus Lupin, with his beautiful light brown hair, his gorgeous brown eyes and the usual wound on his face, you smiled at him, a bright and pure smile, he reddened.

"Well, hello Remus, "you said, still smiling, "How are you?" You asked him gesturing for the both of you to start exiting the room

"Oh.. well... I'm. I'm fine yes, thank you, and you?" He asked, nervously, "Oh, fine, I'm a bit tired you know" you two were now walking down the corridor towards the hall, for lunch,

"And why is that?" "I don't know, I have to study so much this period, I'm not very good at school"

"But you have brilliant marks in Care of magical creatures and Transfiguration?" "Yeah, but I'm not good at any other"you chuckled,

"Well..." he started stopping in the middle of the corridor,

"If you want I could help you, I have a good mark in the other subject, and I would love some help with Care of magical creatures, what do you think," he asked, not looking up at you, playing with his hands.

"Remus" you started putting your hand on his shoulder, "I'd love that" you smiled.

"Oh perfect, then, what about tomorrow or do you prefer today?", "Today's fine for me", "Ok see you later than" and like that he speeded away, searching for his friends. You looked at him, oh this boy was going to be the death of you.

At lunch you were completely in your thoughts, you couldn't stop thinking about the encounter you were going to have that evening. As you supposed it went perfectly, and it wasn't the last one, it was the first of multiple, you two would stay in the library for as long as possible, hours and hours studying and then just talking.

He was so nice, he was able to make your heart bounce and your stomach turns, his eyes would lit up when talking about certain topics or when he laughed, his hair would fall on his eyes and he hated them, but wasn't going to cut them, his smile brought brightness into the room, it would light up your day.

After three months you two were pretty close, and both of you wanted something more, but neither made the first move, Sirius was still pestering you, now even more frequently.

"Why How is it going doll?", Sirius said putting his arm around your hip this time, "Sirius could you please leave me alone?" "But doll, I want to go out with you, what about tonight at dinner, me and you alone?", he stated still his hand on your hip, "Sirius I've told you no enough, now leave me please, "you said, pushing him away,

"But doll, Look at me.", enough is enough, you tried to stay calm and to contain yourself, but you couldn't anymore,

"Listen here you prick, I don't care who you are or who you think you are, It's been 4 months, I've told you I don't like you enough times don't you think, I don't like you!", Remus was behind him, shyly as always.

"Then who?" He asked angrily.

You were so mad, you've spent so much time on telling him no, you couldn't stand another try, not anymore, not after you've understood your true feelings.

"None of your concern" you said slowly, "Why do you need to know it so badly?",

"Because like that I can punch him.".

There are times, my dear Y/N where you should stop yourself before speaking, where you need to controll yourself in order to speak, and at that moment, that precise moment, you didn't.

"Than you'll have to punch Remus cause it's him" you yelled, but as soon as his name escaped your lips silence fell in the room, you hushed your mouth, Sirius stopped dead in his truck and slowly turned his head towards his friend, your eyes started watering, while Remus reddened, madly.

You didn't wait, you started running away, while every person that was in the room stared between you running and Remus, who was now processing the events.

You hide in the library and cried. Anger, humiliation and finally sadness hit you hard. Remus. He was never going to talk to you again, never, you needed to prepare yourself.

Nobody found you, you were hidden pretty well, and as dinner time passed, you understood that you couldn't stay hidden forever, it wasn't something like you. So you took all the courage and headed toward the common room, there were YF/N shouting at Sirius and the other marauders.

As you entered silence fell again upon the room. Sirius was staring at the floor, Remus instead was studying from the corner of his eyes your movements, YF/N was stunned, she reached you and hugged you.

"YF/N, I'm going to bed," you said and started walking away. "Goodnight," you told everybody.

As you were climbing the stairs, a voice called out for you.

"Remus", his name left your mouth so heavily, followed by a deep sigh, "Listen, can we talk tomorrow... I... I don't think I can handle your rejection tonight....and...",

"Y/N" almost a whisper, you turned araound, recognizing the voice,

"What rejection," he said interrupting your rumbling "I actually, I... Well....wanted to...." He stuttered out, you were hanging from his lips, all your hopes and feelings did.

The Silence was so deep you feared he could hear you heart pounding and bouncing inside your chest. You were trying to calm down, he obviously just wanted to ask you to stay friend, you continued repeating yourself.

Or maybe... No. Prepare for the heartbreak. Don't put up your hopes.

An eternity passed till he finally spoke...

"Would you like to.... Go out with me?"

You were shocked, completely stunned. Happiness, slowly made its way through you, utter and pure happiness. Processing the question, you didn't answer and Remus was scared.

"Y/N" he sweetly whispered

"Yes?.... I mean yes, I would love to" you replied, your face a shade of red indescribable.

"Well... then what about tomorrow?"

"I would love that"

Needless to say that the date was stupendous, you loved him, and he loved you too. You were going to be together for a long time, and even though that night you were angry at Sirius you never thanked him enough for what he had made you do.

[seblaineaddict]

Seblaine Week 2020: Day 6: Dalton

@seblaineaffairs

Just a quick reminder that due to the tragic passing of Naya Rivera, I will not be posting the third part of my ficlet today, as originally planned.

Instead, this post will have a flashback of bullet points, and then we have a flash-forward to eighteen months after Seblaine got engaged, thereafter.

Things you need to know:

Slushie-Gate - did happen.

Hunter - did happen.

'Roid scandal - most certainly did not happen!

It was an utterly ridiculous plot line, as trust me on this; nobody, but nobody who plays a Varsity-related sport, would ever even consider chucking away any potential scholarships/College places that rely on both their academic and extracurricular records to remain spotless. For a Show Choir win? Come on!

End of mini rant.

Blaine did return to Dalton following Dark Side. His parents were ecstatic

That should have happened in canon. To be more accurate, he should never even have left Dalton in the first place!

Despite Blaine and Sebastian attending Dalton together at the same time, and becoming Warbler Co-Captains, they sadly did not get together while they were in High School.

They did however sing many duets together, because it is my Seblaine story, so I'm giving us what canon should have! Yes, Dark Side was also a duet between Blaine and Bas, because, again - that should have been a given!

Blaine did stay with Kurt, and Sebastian felt broken, and suffered in silence about it, for a loooong time.

Blaine did not cheat, because come on - its Blaine!

After Sebastian helped Blaine to propose, (which he only did because despite it upsetting him so much, he figured he cared so much about Blaine that he just wanted him to be happy) Kurt gave Blaine an ultimatum, and told him they were not getting married unless he cut all ties with Sebastian. Which he did. Pity he forgot to tell Bas that - huh?

Blaine and Sebastian did not see each other at all after their graduation from Dalton, until the night during their second year of College (Bas at Columbia Law School, Blaine at Tisch) when Bas spotted a head of hair (kidding...of course it was Blaine's ass he instantly recognised - he's studied it enough it could be his specialist subject!) while they were out with their respective friends from College, and well...everything about that is in part one of my ficlet, which is below my first graphic post on Day 1: College

Blaine and Sebastian did not get together until well after Blaine and Kurt's divorce had been finalised.

As you can see above though, despite our beautiful boys not getting together while at Dalton, they still had a lot of fun together during their time there.

And, oh look! As is obvious in their Text messages, Blaine was not at all as innocent as he would have liked people to believe when it came to enforcing the whole "family-friendly" texting rule between them...

Sebastian also displayed a complete lack of awareness or knowledge of boundaries (but really, he just didn't care about them!) and had a very unique way of getting around the rule.

You should be able to zoom the picture out to read their Texts, but below is the transcription, just in case.

Bas: That is so lame, Anderson! So I have to keep things "Family-friendly," now? No more flirting? No deeply inappropriate comments about how perky and delicious your ass is? Do you actually even know me?

Rainbow Brite has a fucking cheek...

Blaine: Sebastian........ First off, calling Kurt names isn't exactly winning you any points. I didn't say you couldn't flirt. You just have to make it family-friendly. Surely a "genius" like you can come up with a way to pull that off?

Bas: You're not cute, you know. Quit trying to deflect by typing the equivalent of those fucking Bambi eyes, and appealing to my ego... OK, how's this? I'll deliberately not tell you that right now picturing your naked perfect ass bouncing up and down on my cock, is making me so hard that I'm just taking care of myself... Oops! I guess I just did tell you. My bad! 😂😂

Blaine: ..............................

You are actually the fucking Devil Incarnate, Bas...

Bas: ;) ;) ;)

Stay tuned for a flash-forward!

[dayseternal-blog]

Hi days! Since im currently under quarantine, I've been meaning to write my own Naruhina fanfic and i think this is the perfect opportunity to start! im just wondering if you have any tips with writing and also on using AO3 since I'm pretty new to the site :) Thank you so much and I hope ur doing well!

AHHHH HAVE FUN!!!!

I have so many tips???  For planning, editing, posting, and general thoughts.  I’m sorry, it got out of hand 🙈  Also, everything below the cut are just my own opinions (even if they’re phrased like laws lol).  Other writers will have differing opinions.

Planning Tips 🗒:

1. First to make absolutely clear, you don’t have to plan.  You can write whatever you want because it’s your story.

2. But it’s useful to have a detailed summary or general outline.

3. And it’s useful to choose your verb tense & POV before you start.

4. It’s easier for most people to write from just one perspective (limited 3rd Person).  An example of this would be “Nightdreams,” for which I only wrote Naruto’s thoughts.  Limited 3rd is useful to build angst because everyone can only guess at what the other character is thinking!

5. But if you want both POVs shown, that’s fun, too!!  I’ve done that in diff. ways.  “Undercover” and “Catskin” switches throughout.  “White Lilies” has half/half of the chapter.  “Inspo” switches each chapter.  Whatever you choose, do it deliberately for the amount of information you want to share with the reader!

6. Keep your verb tense consistent!  It’s easier to write in present tense, even though we were taught in school to write stories in past tense.  If your character is having a flashback, you can easily make that distinction between present and past by switching to past tense.

Editing Tips ✅:

1. Each new paragraph belongs to only 1 character’s thoughts, words, and actions.

2. Vary sentence length!  Short sentences and fragments are wonderful to indulge in.

3. Try to keep each paragraph short (no more than about 4 lines).  A bilingual reader told me it’s easier to process.

4. Try to open a chapter with a description of the environment (sounds, space, or feelings) rather than talking or conversation so that you can immerse the reader in the story right away.

5. If you want a beta, set clear parameters for what you want the beta to look for.  Be specific.  Examples: you want the beta to check your spelling and punctuation, you want the beta to check for clarity in a certain section, you want the beta to be like a soundboard for you to bounce ideas off of, you want the beta to check for sensitivity.  Btw, if you don’t want a beta, that’s absolutely fine.

6. If your story is set in a Japanese-influenced world, please don’t italicize Japanese words.  That just draws attention to a word that doesn’t need attention.  Italics should be used for emphasis, thoughts, maybe words in a letter or newspaper the character is reading.

7. If the characters all have Japanese names, like in Naruto, please find appropriate names for any OCs you make.  This is arguable for an alternate universe.

Posting to AO3 Tips 👊🏼:

1. Write your story on a Google Doc, then when you’re ready, copy&paste into AO3′s RICH TEXT (Not HTML) BOX. 

It’s always defaulted to HTML.  So make sure you click that Rich Text button before you paste the story in, otherwise your formatting’s gonna get all funky.

2. Before you Post, read through your story!  AO3 sometimes doesn’t “return” your paragraphs properly, so just make sure your spacing is all good.

3. Also check your words that are italicized.  AO3 sometimes adds extra spaces between italicized and normal words.

4. Look at similar stories to yours to see how they tagged ships, triggers, and genres.  The wall of tags is very important!  

5. Keep your story summary simple.  If your story follows a popular trope, you might want to highlight that in the summary.

Miscellaneous Tips 🌻:

1. Have no shame.

2. If you learn by following examples (like I do), study your favorite stories and take mental notes on what makes that story so good to you.  Is it the formatting?  Is it the subject?  Is it the characterization?  What did the writer do?  Turn an analytical eye on those stories.

For example, while I was writing Nightdreams, I studied the formatting (transitions, verb tense, point of view, etc.) in @katarinahime‘s “Serenity Prayer” and the use of description in @missa-chua‘s “Unless the World Were to End.”  I reread them several times.  I tried to emulate their styles in my own writing.

3. For the love of ramen, please don’t make ramen seem like some foreign food that Hinata has never tried before.  Please.

4. Follow @ao3commentoftheday to get a whole writing community’s tips!!  The moderator responds everyday to asks on a wide range of writing concerns.

5. YOU CAN FORGET EVERYTHING HERE IF YOU LIKE AND JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.  It’s your story!

You are your own #1 Reader.  Write what you want to read because literally no one’s going to read it as often as you do!  This is allllll about what YOU want!

If you have any questions about something I didn’t cover or you’d like me to expand on a tip, let me know :)  Thank you for asking!  And I am so excited!

I hope you love your fanfic!!!!!

[factionzero]

Hi there, update on, well everything. I've had a difficukt month but I'm starting to bounce back and have started writing again!! No concrete schedule update but I wanted to share this with all of you as a sneak peek for what's to come ♡♡♡

So here's a small snippet of Sebas bringing Tuare home ♡♡♡

---

Sebas unlocked the door with a practised ease, sliding the key back into his breast pocket as he pushed the door open.

Tuare behind him was deathly silent, her knuckles white around the suitcases's handle.

Sebas offered to take it but she shook her head in jerky motions, her cheeks were flushed.

She must still be anxious from seeing his- no, their lord now. He had not only accepted Tuare but given her protection but he was still awe-inspiring. 

'It's alright. You did well, you've been studying manners and proper etiquette dutifully.' He praised in his usual cool voice.

A smile broke on her face as she continued to stare at the floor.

'Thank you, Mr Sebas.' She squeaked out and he nodded, waving his arm out to invite her into his room.

He supposed it was inappropriate for a young woman to stay with a man she wasn't married to but this was for the best.

She would too easily get lost in the tomb and she still suffered from the intense trauma she had been subjected too. For now it was best she stayed with someone she felt safe with.

The awed gasp from Tuare had him grin inwardly. His room was quite well appointed and she would want for nothing in his care, he would ensure that much.

He stepped after her, closing the door behind himself as Tuare put her suitcase down. He had missed his room and took a deep breath of the familiarity, slight woodsmoke and polish.

It wasn't overly large, a living space with a couch and table filled the centre, the thick green curtains drawn to hide the bed built into the wall, a large closet and vanity of dark red wood and in between and filling shelves were his many treasures collected over years of service, almost all gifts from his creator, lord Touch-me.

Out of everything Tuare seemed unsure where to start first and drifted to something familiar, a small iron cast wood burner, intricate iron works decorated its glass panel and the top had room for two stoves with one already having a silver kettle placed ready. 

'The stove works quite well when it gets cold. Would you like a cup of tea, Tuare?' He asked and she turned and nodded.

'I- I'll get the fire going. You've had a hard night, sir.' She urged, kneeling to the floor to open the stove and pick up a few thin logs from the basket next to it.

She jumped in surprise as immediately new logs filled the basket.

'Ahh, I should probably get used to all the magic around here shouldn't I.' She laughed, picking up another piece and giggling as a new one reappeared.

Sebas felt a tightness in his chest. Not painful though he was so unused to that feeling he might be mistaken? He watched Tuare look for a match and realised that she had only seen magical items used to inflict pain and suffering.

This was new to her in so many different ways and he felt guilty out of his enjoyment of watching her happily discover this new world.

'Why don't I put on some music?' He asked and Tuare gave him the expected confused stare.

He walked over to his most treasured gift,  standing on a tall cabinet, it's many records hidden inside as it gleamed, perfectly polished and maintained in its place of pride, same as it had when lord Touch-me had gifted it to him. 

When he had made Sebas Tien's room he had filled it with comforts and treasures to make a lowly servant like him happy.

To Sebas, this gramophone was proof that his creator had truly loved him, regardless of anything else, his disappearance, his leaving the guild and Sebas behind, when he listened to this gramophone he knew he had been loved. 

Tuare watched as he quickly cranked the handle at the side, going much slower than usual so Tuare could watch and learn how to use it.

Soon it was ready and he tipped the needle onto the starting point. After a moment the first piano note drifted between them and Tuare let out a quiet gasp of awe.

She took a few steps forward, kettle forgotten as every new note made her flinch in surprise.

Sebas smiled softly, lips tugging at the corners as he walked silently around her and took over the business of making tea.

that chest tightness was now replaced with a familiar feeling of pride. He had been deeply disappointed when he'd discovered music players, past a few rudimentary music boxes, were nonexistent in this world.

Tuare had steadily drawn closer to the gramophone's large rustic gold speaker, seemingly to try and find the orchestra inside.

The butler silently set the small coffee table with cups and a china teapot, finding a calming chamomile tea. She had said he'd had a hard night but she had been the one to suffer at the hands of the other humans.

Lord Ains himself had instructed Tuare rest for a few days before throwing herself into the work.

a calming cup of tea and rest were therefore their plans for the rest of the evening. Maybe he would show her his office once she had had her fill of music? Hmm, maybe that would be too much for now.

He poured the boiling water over the tea leaves, steeping them with expertise as he went. The alluring smell of the tea caught Tuare's attention just as the song hit its final notes and she let out a deep breath she must have been holding.

She turned and wiped away the small droplets from the corner of her eyes and came to sit next to him on the couch.

The dark green and cushiony couch faced a large oak door on one side of the wall, a large dark oak hutch stood between it and another less intricate door.

'The left is my office, the right is the bathroom.' He explained, feeling the need to explain as he offered her a cup.

She took it gratefully as a new song, this one far more intricate in its pieces and filled with cellos and violins started to play.

He waved his hand to bring the volume down. 

'Chopin's work was to your liking then?' He asked, slightly amused at her reaction, best she got her awe and surprise out here then when she ventured out into the tomb with all its marvels.

'Is that the composer's name? I adored it, such a beautiful song. I've never heard anything like it.' She gushed, her cheeks reddened from smiling. 

He nodded in agreement, he had also never heard such music till lord Touch-Me had graced him with the gramophone.

'You may play it as I showed when I am not here. It will play different music each time.' he explained and Tuare blushed hotly, remembering that they'd be sharing this room from now on. She took a sip of tea before setting it with a clink on her lap.

'I- uhh. Thank you, again. For letting me live with you. I won't be a burden and I won't embarrass you either.' She looked up, her eyes gleaming with determination 'I'll work hard to become a maid worthy of Nazarick so I can stay by your side.' She declared  her small hands made into fists in front of her.

Sebas smiled, how could such a fragile human look so strong. He didn't doubt her capabilities or her strength, not after all she had been through.

He brought a hand up and stroked down her head gently. 

'I know you will.' 

---

[dusk-realm]

Chrysanthemum [Part 8: Arrive with a bang]

Tagging: @featurelengthfics @thedungeonsbat @severussnapesupporter @southsiderepresent

The previous chapters: Masterlist

The landscape moved fast at the other side of the window. It was a large scenery, of soft hills, where the grass grew wild and of a wilted yellowish green under the intense late summer sun.

The rays of the sun illuminated the whole compartment and warmed up (Y/N)’s body. She was already wearing her school uniform, and its dark colour helped the matter. The silver embroidery of the Slytherin’s emblem shined slightly on her chest, which she observed.

She had been thrilled with the idea of coming back, the shopping, seeing the teachers (her saviors), prove herself worthy of being in Slytherin, finally learn new things and do magic. But she couldn’t quite shake off this feeling of uneasiness.

As excited as she was, (Y/N) was also scared of seeing the faces of her classmates, with whom she would be sticking from now on until the end of her career in Hogwarts.

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath and looked at Severus. He was sitting in front of her, with his left leg crossed over the right one and he read a book putting it way too close to his face, as always. He had agreed to accompany her on the Hogwarts Express trip if she helped him organise the classroom and tidy up before the lessons began.

Upon hearing her soft sight, Severus raised his sight above the edge of the book. She was curled up, hugging her own knees and laying against the wall as she stared out of the window.

‘Is there something wrong?’ He asked softly, as if he didn’t want to disturb her. She offered him a little smile before replying:

‘Yeah… It’s just that I’ve felt so… comfortable this summer… I used to think that Hogwarts was the only place I could feel safe at, but I don’t exactly feel the same anymore.’

‘I thought you lived in an orphanage before? What about that place?’

(Y/N)’s smile saddened slightly at that subject, but she answered anyway:

‘I omitted that part of the story, but, when I was 9, I overheard the governess saying that I should go to a foster home. There weren’t many children that turned out good after jumping from one house of those to another, so I got scared and ran away,’ she made a brief pause, letting her words sink in. Severus’ eyes glittered again in that strange manner, but he didn’t say anything, and his expression was half hidden behind the book he held, ‘by that time, I was already aware that I wasn’t a normal girl, so the idea of being assigned to a random family was even more terrifying. That’s why Hogwarts was so important to me. It was like my… shelter.’

Severus set the book aside and opened his mouth to say something, at least until the door of the compartment flung open.

‘(Y/N)!’ The boy exclaimed, and a very oblivious Neville Longbottom stormed into the compartment and hugged his favourite potions partner.

‘Hey, Nevs!’ She greeted, squeezing the chubby lad between her arms.

The professor grunted audibly for being interrupted in the middle of such a delicate conversation. Neville froze at the sound and slowly turned his head towards the source of it. Seeing a very irritated Snape, the young Gryffindor turned pale and sat down at once.

‘I, uh… h-helloprofessorIdidn’tseeyouthere.’ Neville stammered.

(Y/N) tried her best not to burst into laughter seeing how baffled Severus looked, and how Neville was close to shitting himself.

‘So, (Y/N), how was your summer?’ The boy tried his hardest to not keep staring at the scariest professor in Hogwarts. If looks could kill… Well, if that was possible, Snape probably would be able to kill someone with a single glare.

‘It was nice, how was yours?’

‘Eeh... good, as always I suppose.’ The boy answered, not really wanting to mention he spent it with his grandma in front of Snape, although he seemed uninterested on picking on him, he was reading a book.

‘Hey, do you know what? I’ll be joining you in the second course!’ The girl sang cheerfully, bouncing on her seat.

‘Really? I thought you had failed again!’ The professor sneered at the rosy-cheeked boy, who turned more and more red in embarrassment.

‘Yeah, the problem was my wand, it wasn’t obeying me. But I got a new one, and Dumbledore said that I could move on to the next course, so we’ll be together again!’

‘Cool! Listen, do you want to come look for Harry and Ron? I haven’t seen them yet.’

‘Uh…’ (Y/N) glanced at Severus, seeking permission. Since he didn’t bother looking at her, she just assumed that he didn’t mind her absence, so she got up, ‘sure, why not?’ and left.

They walked side by side, peeking at the compartments occupied by the Gryffindors. After searching three whole wagons, Neville spoke timidly:

‘How did you end up in the same compartment as Snape?’

‘Eh… it was just a coincidence.’

‘You could have come with us instead of staying there with him, I was with Seamus and Dean,’ said Neville, ‘do you want to come? There’s enough space.’

‘Eh… not really, you know I don’t have friends in Gryffindor besides you. Plus, Snape isn’t that bad, you know?’

‘Not that bad?’ he echoed, ‘he’s mean, and he only likes his own House.’

‘What?!’ (Y/N)’s pitch raised indignantly, ‘ first of all if you just listened to what he means instead of how he says things you’d realise that he’s not that bad. And you can’t talk to me about favouritism when Gryffindor stole the cup from us last year!’

(Y/N) tried her best to hold back her wrath, but the redness of the tip of her ears was something she could not conceal.

‘But you’ve seen him picking on me, and he always takes crazy amounts of points from us, you just say that because you are in Slytherin!’ The other protested, getting heated up too.

‘Like what, when he deducted one, ONE point from Gryffindor for Potter’s impertinence?’

Neville didn’t reply. He seemed somehow distraught, embarrassed and obfuscated all at the same time.

Severus was the most peaceful man to have around. (Y/N) knew that because she had just spent a whole summer enjoying the tranquility of his home. Fine, he was difficult to decipher and sarcastic and sometimes a bit cold, but that was just a matter of understanding him. It wasn’t that hard to get. On the other hand, though, Neville was her best and only friend in school, she didn’t want to argue with him.

The two friends parted ways without saying goodbye, her going back to her shared compartment with Snape, and him back to the safe company of his Gryffindor fellows.

‘Found ’em?’ asked Severus in a bored tone without looking away from his book.

‘No, not really…’

‘Pity.’ He sarcastically remarked, which made (Y/N) smile softly before plopping herself by his side. Severus remained unbothered.

‘Can I read too?’

And Severus opened the book a bit more and moved it a tad more to the centre, comfortably sharing his space with her.

‘Can I just… skip the ceremony and go straight to the classroom? I’m quite sure there’s plenty of jars to deal with after the summer.’

‘If you think that my protection includes acting at free will, you are mistaken, missy.’ He warned. ‘You must attend the ceremony and the banquet along with the rest of the students.’

‘Alright… Alright. You know I'm not taking anything for granted, don't you? I'm aware that special arrangements were made for me, but I know that I still have to follow the rules, and that I must study as hard as the others.’

‘How sensible.’ The professor commented, pinching her cheek softly.

‘And of course, that includes you too,’ Severus raised an expectant eyebrow, ‘because I'll call you Professor no matter what.’

‘I thought you’d-’

‘Yeah, but school is school and I'm… I'm still a part of your job whether I like it or not and-’ Severus interrupted such a heartfelt speech through a distasteful pull at her cheek.

‘Don't interrupt me. You should call me Professor or Sir only in public. Privately, you can call me Severus, as always. Just don't tell anyone you spent the holidays with me. Did you tell Longbottom?’

‘No, I didn't. I figured out that it would be problematic if it started spreading. I wouldn't want the whole school to think that I'm the teacher's pet.’

‘I see you have things clear,’ he said softly, soothing her cheek with his thumb and resumed his reading after saying:

‘That's a good thing.’

The sorting ceremony seemed to not have an end, and the ceremony was overall unbearable. Professor Dumbledore announced that the new Defense Against The Dark Arts this year was Gilderoy Lockhart, the celebrated writer that was welcomed with an ovation of feminine voices.

Regardless, (Y/N)’s wasn't among those voices. She was sitting next to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of girls, and they were currently having some sort of cold war bragging about how wonderful their summer vacations were in front of the other purebloods, although she was extra loud whenever that Malfoy kid looked in their direction.

That pug-faced girl’s voice was so shrilling (Y/N) thought her ears would implode.

Snape had left dinner early, but of course, (Y/N) didn't have a chance to ask him the reason for so much hurry in the crowded hall.

Not long after, he returned wearing a devilish grin, but only to fetch Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore, who followed behind the other two with a grave expression. To (Y/N)’s surprise, the potions master tapped discreetly at her shoulder  and motioned her to follow, which she did after a few minutes of pretending to eat her dinner., just so it didn’t look as if she had managed to mess up as soon as she set foot on Hogwarts grounds.

Obviously, the first place she searched for her professor was the classroom, then his office. Dumbledore was standing in front of the door, deep in thought.

‘Professor?’ (Y/N) asked softly, causing the other to turn around. His robes billowed around him gracefully.

‘Ah, (Y/N), how are you?’ He asked politely.

‘Eh, good… is everything alright? I thought Professor Snape wanted me to-’

“Why didn’t you send us a letter by owl? I believe you have an owl?” McGonagall’s cold voice was audible through the door, and she sounded really, really angry. (Y/N) covered her mouth with her fingers.

‘Professor, I don’t think I should-’

‘Yes, (Y/N); I bet you know Mr. Potter?’

‘Uh… well, not personally but I know who he is.’

“I — I didn’t think —”

“That,” said Professor McGonagall, “is obvious.”

‘Excuse me for a second,’ Dumbledore said before knocking at the door. (Y/N) caught a glimpse of a radiant looking Severus and two heads sitting, one with black hair and a ginger one.

Were those Weasley and Potter? What had they gotten themselves into?

The Slytherin couldn’t hear anything clearly, just the muffled voices of the boys and then Dumbledore’s again, but she couldn’t really make out the conversation until Severus spoke.

“Professor Dumbledore, these boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree — surely acts of this nature —”

(Y/N) gasped. How could these two mess up so much before starting the term?! Are they dumb? This goes much further than breaking the rules of the school, it was the law. They were dealing with the Ministry of Magic.

The director and Severus finally came out of the office, leaving McGonagall behind.

‘Did you have time to have supper?’ Asked the latter in a caring, contempted tone.

‘Yes, I’m alright. Is there anything you need from me, Professor?’ She asked politely, just as she had promised in the train. She could swear that she saw a flash of a prideful smile on his lips.

‘I need you to stay in my office and watch over Potter and Weasley. You can read or tidy up in the meantime, just don’t break anything and don’t touch anything inside the jars.’

‘Understood. Anything else?’

‘No, I’ll come back later, don’t move from here.’ Said he softly, giving a light squeeze to her shoulders. Professor McGonagall finally left the office.

‘(Y/N), it’s been a while. Did you receive my owl, dear?’ she asked, also putting a hand on her back. (Y/N) felt warm having them around. ‘It came back without a note.’ The woman clarified.

‘Ah, y-yes, I received it, I must have tied the note too loosely.’

All lies. The truth was that (Y/N) had been scared of irritating Severus again, and by the time she had come around writing a note expressing her gratitude, Severus had already sent off the owl, and none of them brought up the subject again.

‘But I really liked your gift, Professor. I was very happy to get mail.’ She confessed gleefully. Her smile was so genuine that even her eyes lit up in the darkness of the dungeons.

‘I’m glad to hear so. Now we must return to the feast’ McGonagall declared, and the three professors disappeared upstairs with a rather content Dumbledore rambling about custard tart.

“Can you believe our luck, though?” said Ron thickly through a mouthful of chicken and ham. “Fred and George must’ve flown that car five or six times and no Muggle ever saw them.” He swallowed and took another huge bite. “Why couldn’t we get through the barrier?”

The door creaked open without a warning knock. Ron and Harry froze and nearly choked on their sandwiches, expecting Snape’s huge nose to peek through the crack of the door to give them another scolding. For their relief, it was just (Y/L/N), that Slytherin girl Neville wouldn’t stop daydreaming about after every Potions class.

‘Uh… sorry. Professor Snape sent me here.’ She said in a voice almost as soft as the one who sent her.

‘What did you do?’ The ginger asked through a stuffed mouth.

‘Uhm… nothing, he sent me to watch over you two and tidy up in the meantime.’

‘Great-  (Y/N), right?’ Continued the ginger. The girl simply nodded and let him go on. ‘We’re Neville’s friends, he’s all the time talking about you.’

Harry kicked Ron’s shin under the table for being a loudmouth.

‘I’m Ron, Ron Weasley, and this is Harry. THE Harry Potter.’ Ron offered a filthy hand to (Y/N), which she didn’t shake.

‘Nice to meet you,’ she answered rather coldly,refusing to acknowledge the living legend. ‘I know your brothers.’

‘Fred and George?’ Ronald earned a disapproving look from Harry for the way he had introduced him, but he was too absorbed to realise. ‘I also have a little sister, McGonagall says she was just sorted into Gryffindor.’

‘How lucky,’ replied she with not too subtle irony. Harry couldn’t really get why she spoke like Snape, was it a Slytherin thing? ‘anyway, I better get to work, you guys just try not to spill anything on the desk, or we three are dead.’

Ron, bewildered, watched her move around the stocks, he tried to wrap his mind around Snape, old bitter Snape letting a student mess with his collection of slimy stuff. Those jars were not something he’d be able to touch himself.

Harry shrugged. “We’ll have to watch our step from now on, though,” he said, taking a grateful swig of pumpkin juice. “Wish we could’ve gone up to the feast. . . .”

“She didn’t want us showing off,” said Ron sagely. “Doesn’t want people to think it’s clever, arriving by flying car.”

When they had eaten as many sandwiches as they could (the plate kept refilling itself), they rose and left the office, treading the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower.

(Y/N) was left in the empty office with quite a few jars of… things in bad state and an empty tray on Severus’ desk. She thought of taking it to the Great Hall and leave it there for the house elves to get rid of it, but Snape told her not to move until he came…

However, her protector arrived in the office only a few minutes later with a heavy sigh.

‘Ah, Severus. I think these,’ she motioned towards the jars on the desk, ‘are expired, you should check them just in case and-’

(Y/N) couldn’t reach the end of her sentence; Severus shoved her against his chest in a tight hug and rested his nose on her hair. The young Slytherin didn’t know what was going on, but she hugged him back, wrapping her arms around his waist. Severus was so thin…

‘What’s wrong?’ She asked after a while. (Y/N) didn’t pull away, Severus was never this affectionate, so she thought something must have happened.

‘I’m aging fast. These kids…’ He murmured against her hair. Did his voice come out raspy?

‘Oh, don’t worry, they’re McGonagall’s responsibility,’ she murmured in a gentle tone. ‘Just think that no Slytherin was involved into this, I think we’re a tad more disciplined.’

Severus chuckled lightly, if she knew… But this wasn’t the moment to tell her. He searched the room, hoping to find a distraction. His black eyes landed on the multiple objects laid out on his desk.

‘Tell me, do you know any vanishing spells?’ He asked, pulling away only enough to look at her.

‘Uhm… no? I think those are way more advanced.’

‘Come, I’ll show you.’