#this made me remember what pencil in Spanish is though

[psychfalls]

I’m just remembering this

so back when these were a thing I made this

And then I thought “haha pencil lapis”

and made pencil lapis.

[toomuchracket]

if you're too shy (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

in which the other music journalist at the magazine you work at is the cutest weird boy you've ever met. enjoy <3

in hindsight, coming back from a two-week holiday the same day the magazine goes to print was a misguided idea.

your editor-in-chief tells you as much when you enter the office, pulling you into a half hug. “don't get me wrong, it's lovely to see you,” she says, scraping her hair back into a bun and securing it with a pencil. “but you'll be doing nothing all day, i'm afraid. maybe some last minute proofing, but i think everyone in nightlife and reviews has been alright. double-check with marianne.”

you do just that, weaving your way through people running copy and coffee between departments until you reach your own. it's mercifully quiet compared to everywhere else, the ten or so people dotted at desks around the sunlit room looking at their laptops and wearing headphones; you actually have to flick marianne on the back of the head to get her to notice you. “oi.”

“who the- oh, hi!” marianne's face softens when she sees it's you, and she stands to pull you into one of her infamously bone-crushing hugs before pulling back to get a good look. “well, you look annoyingly well-rested. but i suppose a fortnight in a spanish villa will do that to you. bitch.”

“i had a great time, thanks for asking,” you grin. “how’s everything been with you? stressful, without your star reporter?”

“well, for starters, you've been succeeded for that title.”

you frown only half-jokingly, scanning the room to try and guess which of your colleagues has replaced you as marianne's unofficial favourite. “who the fuck…?”

“language,” she lightly slaps your arm, in spite of the fact she was just about to say the same thing, then smiles suspiciously. “and i’m talking about our newest recruit.”

the brewing annoyance in your stomach dissipates immediately, replaced by a flock of tiny butterflies. “oh,” you try to keep your smile to a minimum. “that's okay. i like him.”

marianne sees right through you, though. she rolls her eyes. “oh, you would.”

“what?”

she sighs, motioning for you to lower your voice and modifying her own to a whisper. “he’s a curly-haired pretty-eyed vaguely scrawny white boy. you'd like him even if he didn't think the sun shone out of your arse.”

“marianne!” you hiss. “he does not!”

“don’t act all indignant, he has literally looked over at you once every thirty seconds since you walked in - and don't look, idiot, you'll freak him out. we need him on the ball, today of all days,” she rubs her eyes. “but yes, he’s very good at his job. i like him, even if i've no idea what in the world he goes off on his tangents about. great writer.”

“yeah, he is,” you risk a glance towards him, but all you can see is the back of his laptop - covered in stickers for things you can only name half of - and dark curls peeking out from the side of his headphones. “i like the references. different perspective from me, innit? that's why we hired him, after all.”

“who's we? you were too pissed off that i was hiring another music critic to agree to be part of the interviewing panel.”

you'd love to disagree, but you really were pissed when marianne and the other editors told you they were expanding the nightlife section. it didn't matter that it was in response to an increase in funding and readership, with the magazine switching to a print format as well as the online edition you'd contributed to since its creation - your fierce independence and pride meant you didn't take the news well, made you think it was an issue with your competence and writing ability that meant you'd be getting a new colleague. but once you were reassured that you'd still get to keep the Big Gigs and restaurant reviews to yourself, you were slightly more agreeable to the idea.

and once you actually met the new guy, stumbling over both his words and his own feet as he introduced himself, you couldn't quite remember why you'd been opposed in the first place.

“well,” you say, snapping back into reality. “thank goodness i'm over it now.”

“because you want to get under him?”

“no!” you stand indignantly, and then grin. “on top, maybe.”

“good grief,” your boss shakes her head. “don't you go bringing it up to him - excuse the pun - before this edition goes to the printers,” she points at you as you move to walk away. “or talking to him at all until then, actually, you hear me? i love you, but you're a distraction to him, and he's my best journo.”

“he's not, but alright,” you pat her head as you walk back towards the door. “i'll be in the staff room if you need me. and i won't talk to anyone, mum, i promise.”

“i'm only five years older than you!”

“whatever you say!” you reply in a singsongy voice, giggling to yourself as you wander towards the sunny kitchen. the little radio on the windowsill is on, as it always is, and you nod along to the cure while you wait for the kettle to boil. once you've made a cuppa (and grabbed a slack handful of the chocolate digestives marianne always keeps the cupboard stocked with), you settle at the table with your laptop, typing out ideas for your next feature and doing your best not to think about the boy down the corridor you've been instructed not to talk to for the time being. for the most part, you succeed.

that is, until he walks into the staff room two hours later.

you frantically wipe your face of biscuit crumbs as he does, smiling as sweetly as you can for someone with no idea if she has chocolate on her teeth or not. “hi, matty. how are you?”

“oh, hi! i'm, uh, i'm alright,” matty smiles widely enough that his verbal emotional downplaying is blatant - still, he's so cute, beaming at you like that with his little sweater paws. he’s always in a jumper or cardigan or hoodie of some kind, and on more than one occasion in the three months you've known him, you've absolutely thought about literally cosying up into him instead of doing any work. “how was spain? and the wedding - it was a family wedding you were going to, yeah?”

“that's right,” it’s not a big deal, but you glow at the fact he remembered. or maybe it's the soft intent he looks at you with. “it was lovely, yeah. although - wait, have we gone to print?” you ask, suddenly recalling marianne's instructions. “i'm not keeping you from work?”

matty's curls bounce as he shakes his head, light hitting off the metal hoop in his earlobe (that you're only mildly obsessed with). “we've gone. i'm just in here to get my lunch,” he pulls a tupperware from the fridge, cheeks rosy as he waves it. “made some soup last night.”

he makes his own soup. the thought is so endearing that it takes everything in you not to sigh; you settle for a smile. “carrot and coriander?”

“you can tell from one glance?”

you shrug. “s'my favourite.”

“really?” matty's face seems to light up. “mine too,” he busies himself with putting the tupperware in the microwave, taking his time pressing buttons and turning dials before looking bashfully at you. “so, you had a nice time at the wedding, then?”

“i did, thank you. do you, um,” you start, suddenly shy. “d'you want to see some photos from it, while you're waiting for the soup to heat up?”

he nods back just as shyly, sitting quite awkwardly on the seat next to yours; while you open your photos app, matty twists a stray curl around his finger, and the movement seems to send your nerves into vibration as well as the molecules in the air. with a series of shallow breaths, you locate the folder of the wedding pictures and set your phone on the table. “feel free to flick through them, if you like.”

“thank you,” matty sits forward, carefully swiping through the album. you lean on your elbow, doing your best not to beam adoringly at the way he looks intently at each photo before moving to the next. “the venue is really beautiful.”

“yeah, it was stunning.”

the next picture is one of you in your bridesmaid dress, taken by your sister the morning of the wedding. you watch, slightly heartsick, as matty's mouth falls open as he looks at you; the feeling worsens when he tentatively does the same thing in real life, those pretty eyes of his sparkling as he smiles softly. “so are you. really. like,” he looks down at the photo again, shaking his head slightly before looking back up at you. “that colour is beautiful on you. honest. you look incredible.”

“thank you,” the words come out in a whisper, and the two of you silently smile at each other for a moment until you clear your throat. “um, there are more of the official pics on my instagram, let me… actually, do you have my private account?”

“oh, no,” matty shakes his head again - god, you love the way his hair moves. “just the one for your writing.”

“well,” you tap on the app with an almost-imperceptibly shaky finger. “that's the username there, if you'd like to follow. no pressure, of course. don’t wanna fuck up your algorithms or anything.”

your nervous chuckle at the end of the sentence turns to a giggle when you see matty's face as you share your username; it lights up so much that you'd be forgiven for thinking he'd just won the lottery. he pulls his own phone out and taps away at it. “you don't have to follow me back, by the way,” his cheeks flush a deep red, a beautiful colour. “m'not posting anything interesting.”

doubtful. he might be one of the most interesting people you've ever met, all talent and sweetness and a wealth of cultural understanding wrapped up in a sweater and a pretty face. “no, i'd like to.”

“alright. thank you,” matty's cheeks seem to get even redder as he watches you hit follow back, face twitching as though he’s trying to stop himself smiling too big. when the microwave dings, he all but skips over to it, almost tripping over the leg of his chair in a sweetly awkward way; he swears under his breath when he lifts the steaming container out, turning back sheepishly to look at you. “sorry.”

“don't worry,” you grin at him, feeling slightly bold. “i still think you're sweet when you swear.”

he giggles, and the noise makes your heart leap; in addition to being one of the most interesting people you think you've ever met, matty healy is without doubt the cutest. watching his lips pout in concentration as he stirs the soup and checks the temperature, you briefly imagine what they would feel like against your own, how he would be if the two of you were to kiss. just as giggly and endearingly awkward as he usually is, you think - eager to please, lips and tongue a little sloppy and unsure but enthusiastic enough for you not to mind, slightly unsure of where to put his hands so as to not make you uncomfortable… the scene is as clear as day in your head, and you really, really want to recreate it. you'd devour him right now if you could, the sweetheart.

and then, matty reaches up to get a bowl from the shelf, the hem of his shirt goes with him, and your want to devour him suddenly takes on a less pg-rated meaning than it did a second ago.

he has a fucking hip tattoo.

you’re pretty sure it's only a sliver of the full design you can actually see, but the hints of red and blue and black ink and the glimpse of his happy trail are enough to fuck you up completely. as you register what you're seeing - what you're discovering about the seemingly buttoned-up, shy, unassuming-to-everyone-but-you matty - your breath catches in your throat, forcing you to cough quite obviously on the mouthful of lukewarm tea you'd just taken. one cough turns into another, and you clap a hand over your mouth to make your tattoo reaction attack the least obvious it can be.

still, the ever-perceptive man across the kitchen notices, running over to crouch in front of you with concern filling those beautiful eyes of his. “you alright, darling?”

darling?! no, you most certainly aren't alright.

but you can't tell matty that, so you stick to gesturing to let him know you'll reply once you've managed to swallow your tea. “i am, yeah, thanks. tea just, y'know, went down the wrong way.”

matty tilts his head. “you sure?”

“yeah,” you smile, slightly embarrassed. “really. thank you, though.”

“of course,” he smiles in return, knee brushing lightly against your leg as he steadies himself; he looks down, eyes widening as he registers how close the two of you are, and quickly stands. “i'd better, y'know, get my lunch.”

you nod, despite the strange loneliness settling into your bones at the lack of him next to you. “i can head back to the office, if you want peace?”

“no, no, please stay!” matty all but gasps, turning to look at you like a deer caught in headlights - he clears his throat, blinking a few times before speaking again. “please don't feel the need to leave on my account, i mean. or feel obliged to talk, really - i was just going to read.”

“you're sure i won't be a bother to you?”

matty smiles warmly, shaking his head. “that'll never happen.”

christ.

“okay,” you whisper, winking at him - and savouring the little giggle that bubbles out of him when you do - before turning back to your laptop. 

matty settles at the table a minute or so later, pulling a paperback from his back pocket and holding it open quite attractively with one hand. you peek over the rim of your laptop at him every so often, never for more than a couple of seconds at a time; partially to avoid the mortification of him catching you, but mostly because if you look at him any longer you know your mind will wander back to that fucking hip tattoo of his, and what it might look like completely visible to you, and what it might feel like under your lips, and what noises matty might make if you slowly dragged your tongue all over it before moving to the side to lick a wavy line up the length of his-

enough. he's literally right there.

the room feels hot, all of a sudden, your cheeks flushing and throat drying to match. on only slightly shaky legs, you pick up your waterbottle and head to the water fountain, crouching as best you can to fill it. even though he stays silent, you can feel matty’s eyes on you from across the room, but it doesn't bother you or freak you out in the way that other men ogling you at a water fountain would - it's quite obvious that matty has some sort of more-than-platonic affection for you, but his gaze has always been one of appreciation and awe when it comes to you, not the predatory one you've come to expect from men. and yet, his is the only male gaze that makes you feel slightly nervous, unused to being looked at with such reverence and tenderness by an attractive boy; in complete contrast, though, it also makes you lower your guard, pull down the bricks from the wall you've built around your heart, and allow yourself to actually feel something for matty, for once. something good, honest, promising.

matty looks up from his book as you sit down, smiling pleasantly. he opens his mouth as if to talk, and then closes it immediately, shaking his head slightly.

this intrigues you. “you okay, matty?”

“hmm? oh, yeah, i was just thinking,” his cheeks go a shade of pink you would buy in blush form if you could find it. “when you were first talking about the wedding… you said although, and then we got off-topic slightly. what, um, what were you going to say, if you don't mind me asking?”

“oh, right,” you wrack your brain, doing your best to not get distracted by how cute you find his perception. “i think i was going to say something about how, as good as it all was, there's nothing like a family wedding to remind you of how single you are.”

his jaw falls open. “you… you don't have a boyfriend? wait, sorry,” he blinks. “or a partner?”

you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip to stop yourself smiling. “no boyfriend, no. and thus, constantly advised by a never-ending flock of aunts that i should get one so i could get married.”

“christ,” matty winces. “yeah, my cousin's getting married in a couple of months - not looking forward to everyone asking me when i'm going to meet a nice girl and settle down, as if i can answer.”

no girlfriend. how interesting. “you're single? really?”

he rolls his eyes, still smiling at you. “be serious. course i am.”

“i am being serious! that surprises me,” you lean on one elbow, tilting your head to look at him. “you're lovely, matty.”

matty’s eyes widen, and he blinks adorably a few times before he smiles shyly again. “thank you. i think the same about you.”

“you do?”

he simply nods, total sincerity in those pretty eyes. 

you feel your cheeks warm, but you make no effort to hide it. “thank you.”

matty shrugs. “just telling the truth, darling,” he looks panicked when he realises what he's said. “sorry for calling you that, twice, it just-”

“i like it, matty, it's alright,” you say reassuringly. “and i like-”

“oh, thank god you're both here,” marianne bursts into the room, carrying her laptop; you frown petulantly at her for ruining your moment, but shuffle your chair round closer to matty's so she can sit at the table too. “something weird’s happening.”

matty squints. “what d'you mean by weird?”

marianne pushes her laptop towards you both. “there's overlap in your planned reviews - the band you're going to see at the end of next week, matthew, have just been announced as the opener for the next Big Gig. i need to know how we want to go about this.”

“oh,” he looks at you. “i don't mind if you want to just review them as part of yours.”

you're shaking your head vehemently before he even finishes talking. “no, that's not fair,” you tap your lips with your index finger the way you always do when you concentrate, trying to ignore the glow within your body when you see matty looking at them from the corner of your eye; inspiration strikes, and you turn to marianne. “matty could come with me, couldn't he? if he reviews their headline gig, and then he does a follow-up review of their opening set in the Big Gig feature - we could just do a joint byline, work together on it.”

both of them turn to look at you in slight shock. marianne is the first to speak, her words trickling out slowly as she processes the fact you've just agreed to let someone else work on a Big Gig for the first time. “you're… happy with that?”

“if matty is, yeah,” you turn to him, smiling. “sound alright?”

he beams. “more than. thank you.”

“of course,” you turn back to the boss. “there you go. sorted.”

she sighs, relieved. “thank goodness for that. alright,” she stands, picking up her laptop and heading back to the main office. “i'll coordinate press passes. thanks for making that simple - you're both stars.”

“anytime!” you call after her, before turning back to matty. “you're sure you're happy to do this? i realise i've just given you more work to do, but…”

he laughs, a beautiful sound. “nah, i don't mind. also,” he shuffles in his seat, bashful again. “i actually have a spare ticket for the first show, if you'd like it - bought it before i saw it was on the review roster. doesn't seem fair that i get to go to two gigs while you only get one, i think. i mean, no pressure, obviously, but the offer's there.”

god, he’s so fucking cute. how could you ever say no to him? “i'd like that a lot, matty, thank you,” you beam at him. “i think us working together is going to be a lot of fun.”

matty beams back just as enthusiastically. “i think so too.”

[abbatoirablaze]

Down The Rabbit Hole, Chapter 10

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst.

“Hi, I’m Abed!”

You felt your face instantly warming as the cute guy in a simple hoodie sat next to you, offering his own small smile, “Tawney!”

“You know, you should really come to our study group!” he began, “We could really use someone like you!”

“Like me?” you questioned softly, the sadness jumping in your voice as you thought about how yet another person wanted to use you because of your afro-latin heritage for some Spanish study group.

Instantly, his eyes went wide, as though he realized he had made a mistake in his choice of words, “I just-I remembered when I came to class early on the first day and I saw you talking to Senor Chang.  He asked why you were taking the class if you knew Spanish and you said you were fulfilling a language requirement!”

“Yeah…my uh, my dad was from Spain…he met my mom when she was in the military and she was stationed there…” you confirmed, “I may have been born in Canada, but I was raised with Spanish as my first language, and then French before I finally learned English.”

“That’s really cool that you can speak more than one language.  You don’t sound like you learned English as a third language.  I can speak Arabic because of my dad…and my mom taught me Polish before she left…but I learned English first.”

“Oh…I-I’m sorry about your mom!”

He shrugged, “it’s okay…it’s not your fault…”

“So, uh…your study group…you said you need help!” you asked, hoping to change the subject, “how many of you are there?”

“Right now, there’s seven of us.  And we need help.  Desperately!” he nodded, his eyes widening as he admitted just how deep his group was, “none of us have a clue on what we’re doing!”

“I-I think I could pencil you guys in…when do you meet?”

“I regret inviting Tawney to the group!”

Jeff frowned, “what?”

“We’re talking about a real conversation and you’re telling me all about how you were calling some girl on a sex phone line and telling her that you are four hundred pounds…and then you start talking about how Tawney made you realize that you don’t need to do that because of how you two feel about each other!” Abed explained.  He shook his head and sucked in his cheeks, “look, I know that the two of you kissed…I get it.  I mean, you’re the leading character and it’s normal for the guy to get the girl, but I just don’t want to hear about her.  Not like that…it’s too soon…and I-I didn’t think that I would still be feeling these things for her.”

Jeff’s frown deepened, “I didn’t plan for it to happen like that, Abed…”

“No one ever plans for that kind of thing to happen,” Abed shrugged noncommittally, “that’s why it’s the big breaking point in the romantic comedy…because no one planned for it to happen.  It sets up the whole climactic moment where the leading man gets the girl.  It never is planned to happen…it just did!”

“No, really, Abed.  It just did,” Jeff said quickly, trying to defend what had happened, “yeah, the night I went to her place and I kissed her…I guess part of me hoped that would happen but I never planned on kissing Tawney during the elections.  That really did just kind of happen…I mean, Annie had embarrassed me with that audition tape for the Real World, and then Tawney came looking for me.  We just talked at first and-“

Abed’s brow furrowed when Jeff started speaking. 

His head tilted ever so slightly as he processed what Jeff had said.

‘He never planned on kissing her during the elections.’

Abed had known about what he thought was the first and only time that Tawney and Jeff had kissed.  But apparently not.  Hearing about how they kissed at her dorm, and now the elections felt like too much for him. 

Internally his mind started screeching.

He felt his stomach turning.

It was sensory overload for him.

He knew that while he didn’t have the capacity to date Tawney, he didn’t want Jeff dating her either. He still had feelings for her.  And he definitely didn’t want her falling for him. 

His jaw clenched and his nose twitched as he tried to focus on something else.

Anything else. 

All of the girls seemed to have a crush on Jeff.

Annie. 

Britta. 

Why?

Sure, he never counted Shirley because she was older and in love with Andre, regardless of his status with the stripper. 

But he hadn’t expected Tawney to fall for him.

Not his girl. 

He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed when Pierce was coming into the restaurant, dressed like the gimp.  And then the waiter started to spill the details about his own birthday movie plot. 

He was too late on shushing him.

And before he knew it, Jeff was furious with him.  

“THIS IS WHY WE DON’T HANG OUT!” Jeff growled, snapping him back to reality as he slammed his hand on the table, “You know what…I don’t regret kissing Tawney…even if you do regret inviting her to the group, because I’m not the one that ended your relationship with her, Abed.  You were…but I’m not going to hide it from you…we started seeing each other.  I agreed to come out tonight because I wanted to tell you first, before we told the group.  WE wanted to tell you first, because you are our friend.  Tawney thought it was important for us to talk about it, because you’re right, Abed.  I have been avoiding you.  I’ve been avoiding you because I didn’t know how to tell you that I have real feelings for her.”

“Y-you and Tawney-“

“WELL THANKS FOR GETTING ME FIRED, JERKS!” Abed’s attention shifted to the rest of the group with Chang, all dressed as different characters from Pulp Fiction, filed into the restaurant.  Britta stopped right in front of their table, halting everyone else, “the parties over.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool!” Abed repeated, admiring everyone’s costumes.

“Yeah, it is,” Jeff growled, “do you guys know where Abed’s really cool present is?  Because I’m returning it!”

“Uhm…I-I’ts back at the diner!” Troy chirped, stuttering over his words, while everyone else gave each other nervous looks, knowing what had happened to the briefcase, “it’s fine.  It probably just needs some detailing.”

“Jeff!” you called softly after him, not even bothering to look at Abed as he stalked angrily out of the restaurant.

Deep down, you had known what had happened. 

Why Jeff looked so upset. 

Abed must not have taken the news well.  You looked guiltily at him, and his gaze averted yours.  Your stomach turned, and you realized that your deepest worries must have been right.  Biting your lip, your turned on your heel and followed after your boyfriend.

Troy sat down and shook his head, “man I really wish you two got along better.  Ohh, no-no juice.  Oh, that’s good no-no juice.”

“Where is Tawney going?”

“Probably to calm Jeff down,” Annie sighed, looking between the door and Abed, almost like she, too, wanted to follow after Jeff.  Instead, she sat down, blinking at Abed, “what did you do to make him so mad?”

Abed felt his rage pulsing inside of him as his eyes continued to flicker towards the door. 

‘What did he do?’

Abed scoffed at the thought.  Of course, Annie would undoubtedly take Jeff’s side no matter what.  He couldn’t possibly explain anything that the two of them had talked about.  Not without all of the girls siding with him.

“It was nothing!” he said quickly, shrugging his shoulders as he turned his attention to Troy.  Silently, he was begging you to come back, all while knowing you were going after your new boyfriend with no intention on even considering his feelings.

Everyone had made up.

At least, Jeff and Abed did. 

Abed had told him that everything was okay when he came back to pay for the tab at the restaurant.  And the waiter, feeling bad, let them have the party there. 

But Abed’s head was somewhere else as he looked, no, glared at you.  The fact that you had gone after Jeff without first talking to him sat wrong in his stomach.  You might have been dating Jeff now, but you were Abed’s girl first.

You two had talked about comics, and video games, and movies. 

What did you and Jeff share? 

“What-what’s wrong, Abed?” you asked softly, breaking him from his thoughts.  His eyes snapped back to yours, and he looked at you curiously, “Don’t you like the party?”

“When were you going to tell me about you and Jeff?” he asked firmly, eyes unwavering from your form. 

You bit your lip and gave him a sad look as you shifted on your heels. 

This was not a conversation you wanted to be having. 

Sure, you had insisted that Jeff stop avoiding Abed, but you hadn’t prepared yourself mentally for dealing with any questions that Abed might have had for you.

“Well,” you sighed, beginning your own thought as the words poured from you, “he said he wanted to tell you before your party…but you know he’s been avoiding you.  We agreed that he would talk to you first…and this was the first time either one of us has been able to get you away from the grou-“

“You should have told me sooner!” he hissed, his own rage spilling out of him before he could stop it.  You flinched, feeling the words stinging as they hit you, “Jeff said that you two kissed at the elections…and that he’s stopped by your dorm before.  How come I didn’t know any of that?”

“Well, you went asking that secret agent out…”

“She wasn’t a part of the group…”

“Is this really what it’s about, Abed?” you asked as you found your arms crossing over your chest, “you don’t want two people in the group dating?  Because you seemed fine with that idea when it was me and you.  Or is it the fact that it’s me and Jeff?  Would it be different if I was seeing Troy?”

Abed felt the anger biting the back of his throat.  His head ached as the words smashed around his skull. 

The longer he watched you, his anger only grew. 

You shook your head and went to turn away, but he reached out, taking your wrist.

“Abed…what are you doing?”

“I regret asking you to be a part of the group in the first place!” he said firmly, holding onto your arm, “all I’ve been able to think about since he told me is the day that we met.  But that memory feels tainted.”

“Abed…let me go…”

“I should have never asked you to be part of the group!” he said firmly, repeating his earlier sentiment before letting go of your wrist, “and while I can’t change the past, I can alter the present.  Tawney…I don’t want you coming back to the group.  From now on…you’re out.”

“W-what?” you asked softly, your brow furrowing at his declaration.

“I may not be able to have a relationship with you, but that doesn’t mean that I want to see you in a relationship with Jeff either,” he answered simply, “I know that I still mean a lot to you…despite whatever fling you and Jeff have going on, and I am going to ask nicely…don’t make me watch you and Jeff be a couple…don’t make me see that day in and day out…leave the group.  You’re almost done with your classes anyways…and you’ll be a professor soon…so just…leave us alone!  Please!”

Hurt etched itself into your features. 

You couldn’t hide your own sadness as you felt the tears pricking your cheeks.

“D-does anyone else know how you feel?” you asked gently, “I-I mean…is this how you really feel about it?  I-Is that what you want, Abed?”

“What I really want is for you to break up with Jeff and leave my party right now…” he said unashamed, “you hurt me, Tawney.  Whether you realize it or not, you really hurt me…and honestly, I don’ t want to see your face ever again.  So yes…that’s how I feel…please.  Just leave, Tawney.”

Chapter 11

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @mckeeee-1

[daintyduck99]

Aaaaah too many good prompts!!

"none of what you said made any sense, i can't believe they have you this flustered." for rulie? because honestly I could see that being either of them.

Reggie is so screwed.

Hell, he only knows about the quiz because Kayla tipped him off, and he doesn't need to flip through his notes to know that they're basically useless, obscured by doodles of a curly-haired angel with a gap-toothed grin. He racks his brain, but he can't remember what they've been covering. Some new kind of verb?

He only remembers the way Julie's fingers had brushed against his when she handed him his pencil, the soft glow of her eyes in the afternoon sun and the violent case of butterflies she'd set off in his stomach.

Reggie groans at his lunch.

"I'm gonna fail Spanish."

Luke pats his cheek. "That's ironic, buddy."

"What—why are you misquoting Avatar The Last Airbender at me?"

Bobby snorts as he peels his orange, glancing at Reggie with a quirked eyebrow.

"Maybe because the girl you're half in love with is effortlessly fluent. Just a thought."

He blushes, letting out an undignified little noise that some might call a squeak.

"I'm not in love with her!"

"Not yet," Alex says with a shrug, "but she's also the reason you can't focus. You have to admit that it's pretty ironic, Reg."

Luke claps his shoulder before Reggie can protest any further, smirking heavily.

"Don't look now, bro. She's coming."

"What?!"

He whips his head around, cursing himself when they make eye contact. Of course he chose to look the one time Luke wasn't bluffing. She simply smiles and waves, increasing her pace ever so slightly.

He's still trying to decide if it would be weird to turn back around or not when she's standing right in front of him, hugging some notebooks to her chest and looking downright radiant in her yellow dress. There's a matching ribbon that's been braided into her hair, and her smile only serves to soften her impossibly warm eyes. She literally seems heaven sent.

He gapes at her like an idiot as she shines on him expectantly, and Luke thumps him on the back. He clears his throat.

"Sorry, um. What was that?"

Julie giggles. "I asked you if you were ready for Spanish. I heard that Mrs. Cutright is springing a quiz on us."

"Yeah—I mean, no—um—necessitas—shit—necess—ito—usar—uh—"

She rescues him with a shake of her head and a sweet smile as she gently says, "Necessitas mis notas?"

"Yes!" He angles his body to look at her better, nodding rapidly. "Si, no se—shit—se no hago—fuck it—you're an actual angel, I owe you—my firstborn, whatever you want."

She smiles at the ground and slowly looks at him again, peeking through her lashes.

His heart is bound to burst.

"Gracias, Reggie. Pero empecemos con una cita. Noes niños. Bueno?"

He nods dumbly again even though he has no idea what she just said beyond his name. His stomach flutters at the way her tongue had curled around the letters. He wishes he could say her name half as prettily, but if he could he probably wouldn't be worried about failing.

She laughs again, bright as bells, and offers him one of her notebooks. Their fingers meet, effectively gluing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, but she's unbothered, tossing out what he's mostly certain is a cheerful goodbye before she starts to walk away.

"Me llames!" she calls over her shoulder, then she disappears into the throng of students, leaving him clutching her notebook and what little sanity he still has.

Bobby's the first to break the silence.

"Wow. None of what you said made any sense. I can't believe they have you this flustered. You've known her since we were what, seven? Eight?"

"I always get this flustered!" Reggie defends. "Resident disaster bi, remember?"

Luke hums, swiping a fry from Reggie’s tray. "He has a point, B. I'm sure the whole half in love with her thing only makes it worse, though. Or the boner for romantic languages. Actually, now that I think about it, he was doomed from the start."

Reggie squawks. "I do not have—"

Luke cups his face and locks eyes with him, crooning quietly in French.

Fuck.

Thankfully, Luke has mercy on him and releases him without any more teasing, letting him shove his tray away and press his face into the cool metal of the table.

"Yeah, speaking of which, do you have any idea what Julie said to you, Reg?" Alex asks. "Because if she always talks to you like that, no wonder you're such a wreck."

Luke agrees. "She was definitely flirting with him. I only told him my omelet order."

Fuck!

Reggie lifts his head to look at Alex.

"What did she say to me?"

"Okay, well, you definitely said something about how you were going to give her a child in one way or another—after butchering some basic Spanish—and she was teasing you, saying you should start with a date."

Reggie groans, but Alex keeps talking.

"I mean, she also told you to call her. So I think you're fine. She's obviously into your whole disaster bi thing."

Oh. Oh!

"Maybe just look at her notes before it fails you," Bobby adds, effectively bringing him crashing back down from cloud nine.

That's okay, though. He scrapes by.

He's much more fluent by the time that first baby arrives.

[notesfrompublicschool-blog]

Notes from Public School (2023-2024) - Day 45

I don’t know about you, but I love symbols.

One of my favorite symbols is Apple Computers apple with a missing bite.

I also love Harry Potter’s lightning bolt on his forehead.

The symbol I chose for myself is a humble pencil.

Nothing fancy.

Just a reliable, old Ticonderoga #2 pencil with a slightly used eraser.

It represents the best of who I am as a writer and a teacher.

Reliable.

Erasing mistakes and trying again.

Writing. Rewriting. Writing. Rewriting. Sharpening. Writing again.

Yep, that’s me.

Do you have a symbol?

What is it?

Why did you choose it?

I’d love to know.

This afternoon, as I was cleaning up my classroom and preparing to go to the YMCA for my afternoon swim, I found a symbol in an unlikely place.

It was tucked behind the top of the little American flag I display that we use when we say the pledge of allegiance every morning.

There behind the top of the little flag was an origami butterfly.

I immediately knew who made it.

I immediately knew who put it there.

It was one of my students from last year.

She is from Honduras.

She speaks Spanish at home and English at school, and I marvel at the intelligence it takes to be bilingual and live with one foot in one world and one foot in another world.

I’ll always remember her because she had a learning disability and could barely read.

During the year, though, she fell in love with Manga art and books.

She worked so hard to understand the words in the books that she basically taught herself to read.

And to draw Manga art.

And to fold paper into astonishing origami figures.

During the last weeks of school, when we were spending hour upon hour taking high stakes standardized reading tests in the classroom, she taped a little prayer to the corner of her Chromebook.

“Please, God,” it read, “I don’t want to fail.”

I had so much hope in my heart for her.

And she didn’t fail.

I took a picture of her origami butterfly on top of the American flag beside a poster with the famous words from Maya Angelou’s poem And Still I Rise.

It’s my symbol for her.

It represents the best of who she is.

How would you describe that symbol.

I’d love to know.

You know what?

I hope in my heart of hearts that that symbol represents the best of America for her.

Molly T. Marshall Bill J. Leonard

[teachandwrite-blog]

Notes from public school (2023-2024) - Day 45

I don’t know about you, but I love symbols.

One of my favorite symbols is Apple Computers apple with a missing bite.

I also love Harry Potter’s lightning bolt on his forehead.

The symbol I chose for myself is a humble pencil.

Nothing fancy.

Just a reliable, old Ticonderoga #2 pencil with a slightly used eraser.

It represents the best of who I am as a writer and a teacher.

Reliable.

Erasing mistakes and trying again.

Writing. Rewriting. Writing. Rewriting. Sharpening. Writing again.

Yep, that’s me.

Do you have a symbol?

What is it?

Why did you choose it?

I’d love to know.

This afternoon, as I was cleaning up my classroom and preparing to go to the YMCA for my afternoon swim, I found a symbol in an unlikely place.

It was tucked behind the top of the little American flag I display that we use when we say the pledge of allegiance every morning.

There behind the top of the little flag was an origami butterfly.

I immediately knew who made it.

I immediately knew who put it there.

It was one of my students from last year.

She is from Honduras.

She speaks Spanish at home and English at school, and I marvel at the intelligence it takes to be bilingual and live with one foot in one world and one foot in another world.

I’ll always remember her because she had a learning disability and could barely read.

During the year, though, she fell in love with Manga art and books.

She worked so hard to understand the words in the books that she basically taught herself to read.

And to draw Manga art.

And to fold paper into astonishing origami figures.

During the last weeks of school, when we were spending hour upon hour taking high stakes standardized reading tests in the classroom, she taped a little prayer to the corner of her Chromebook.

“Please, God,” it read, “I don’t want to fail.”

I had so much hope in my heart for her.

And she didn’t fail.

I took a picture of her origami butterfly on top of the American flag beside a poster with the famous words from Maya Angelou’s poem And Still I Rise.

It’s my symbol for her.

It represents the best of who she is.

How would you describe that symbol.

I’d love to know.

You know what?

I hope in my heart of hearts that that symbol represents the best of America for her.

[i-am-brandon]

My life story chapter 6

My last name was Lowdermilk because I have German ancestors who were farmers so I think that explains the milk part of my last name, well people at school would for some reason make jokes about my last name, they would assume a nazi I wasn’t into there jokes about my last which I don’t remember but assuming someone is a nazi because of a German last name is negative, and I don’t know how they knew it was German, those jokes were surprisingly accurate for knowing my last name, and I’m assuming I would say stuff like I’m not a nazi and they would laugh for some reason, well there was another guy let’s call him anger management guy well he stabbed me with a pen or pencil near the arm or hand maybe I think I had to get something removed at the nurses office and he liked dirt bikes, nobody at school liked that guy, and I still wanted to be his friend after he stabbed me, but on the plus side or positive side he didn’t stab me again after that, at school I would become semi popular for making up a song about a roadkill bunny, and the lyrics I think went the bunny song done done done, the bunny song done done done, and it had a dance I don’t remember what it was and people wanted to do the dance and for some reason I said they were doing it wrong and they were ok with it they wanted to do the dance right, and 1 of my teachers said to me if the bunny song gets played on the radio he will kill himself, I guess he wasn’t into the song, it was a dumb song I made it up with a dance for some reason, I forget if there were dead bunnies at the school though, maybe I cared about the dead bunnies and I thought they should have a song maybe maybe not I don’t know, than there was a random guy at school that showed everyone in the class his penis and balls when the teacher wasn’t around or when no adults were around, no one seemed to care, why I don’t know, as if to say hey random strangers this is my penis and balls, did he think he was gonna laid after that I don’t know, I don’t know why he did it, I don’t think anyone was interested although if they were girls probably wouldn’t say anything they don’t want to be slut shamed. There was also a random guy at school who always wanted to fight people but he didn’t fight them for no reason he wanted to schedule a time to fight them and than he wouldn’t like it if they didn’t show up to the fight, he would say why do they never show up and he didn’t like it let’s call him boxer guy. Boxer guy I think did a school presentation and I think it was for the Spanish language he said something that I think was like a Spanish word that sounds like the n word but wasn’t I don’t know if he was trying to say that word, but the teacher didn’t like it. I don’t know if he was racist or not. Than there was the skateboarder people and they would skateboard and hurt there no parts skateboarding and they would laugh at stuff like smell my anus. They said anus a lot and they thought it was a funny word. I don’t know if they laughed your anus which is a planet, spelled like this Uranus the planet. And I didn’t understand why they laughed at the word anus so much. A random childhood memory, I said I don’t want any candy, I hung out with the guitar people at school and they would practice Metallica, and 1 guy would play Metallica perfectly and another guy would say ok but now play it with all down strumming, and they would bring a Marshall mini amp, and 1 of them got a girl pregnant and he was the best guitar player in the group of guitar players, and he didn’t want to raise the baby, and she wanted me to raise the baby but I said no to that because I was young and didn’t have money for that and she didn’t like that so somehow she convinced someone to raise her baby it was a random guy, and I think that girl was Canadian because I said to her a, because Canadians say a and she said your saying that wrong, which doesn’t help me to say it the right way.

[bittyfromquotev]

Madie Aizawa: Origin (P.2)

WARNINGS: Sugarcoated rape implication, fake friends, cursing, family issues, the app I use doesn’t help transfer all the font stuff onto tumblr so I’m sad lmao

“Was that last part really necessary?” The homeless-looking Hero spoke this time. Puppeteer looked around the bland room, thinking. She moved her hands around as she did so, making the handcuff chains jingle. Blinking, she made direct eye contact with him. “Eh…not really. I just wanted to add that little detail.” Her mouth twisted into a strange grin, disappearing and reappearing like a tic. “Why?” The flame Hero demanded. He was such a nosy, nosy man. “Because I wanted y’all to get a feel for the place! Put you guys in my shoes for a li’l bit. Besides, I was a little out of it that day.” This time, the grin that formed on her face stayed for a while. The hobo-Hero haha hobo Hero. That’s funny spoke up again. “Why not tell us how the whole house looks then?” “I’m too lazy, man. Leave me alooooneee.” Puppeteer pouted, her previous grin gone and strange sneer now replacing it. The flame Hero, seemingly aggravated, pounded his fist into the table to bring all of them back to the present. Clearing his throat, he ordered, “Continue. No more wasting time.” The girl blinked rapidly before exhaling in a very unnecessary manner. “M’kay..” . . . No more than a week had passed when something…interesting, to say the least, happened. Madie sat in seat 12, on the second-to-last row of desks towards the left of the classroom during third period Humanities class when the teacher announced a semester-long project for the end of seventh grade. The class groaned as Mrs. Kassel continued with the instructions. “Remember, you have all semester to work on this project. I will assign pairs of students to work together.” She began drawing two names at a time from a jar, instructing each pair to move to desks close to each other and push them together. After all the names in the class were drawn, students began to do as instructed and push their desks together. “Take the rest of the period to get to know your partners, as you will be working with them for the rest of the year!” Of course Madie had zoned out when her partner was called. Or did she? Either way, she was forced to look around the room helplessly until it was clear who she was working with. When her partner finally did find her, she wasn’t making eye-contact. When she looked up after sitting down, she was faced with a bird-headed boy. Literally freaking bird headed. Was that his Quirk? Idiot. Of course it is. “Uh…hi. How are you?” she asked out of polite habit. The boy tilted his head in what seemed to be confusion. “Hi? Can you hear me? How are you today?” When he still hadn’t responded, that same look on his face, she tried again in Spanish. It didn’t work. Obviously. After some awkward silence between them, Madie decided to give Japanese a shot. When the boy perked up and responded with an “I’m fine, thanks,” Madie beamed. “You speak Japanese too?” The boy nodded. “Yes. I’m from Japan. What about you?” “Oh. I was born here, but my mom is from Mexico and my dad is from Japan. They insist that I learn both of those languages.” “Can you read any form of Japanese?” “It’s a little confusing, but yeah. Hey, what’s your name?” “Tokoyami Fumikage.” “Surname first?” “Yes. What’s your name?” “Madie Aizawa; surname last.” “I see. It’s nice to meet you.” The two of them shook hands, almost smiling. Madie was quick to break the handshake and get a pencil out, though. The two of them talked a little about the project itself, but their conversations mostly consisted of random cultural and Quirk-related subjects. Madie was enlightened to learn that Tokoyami had a sentient being that came with his Quirk as well. “Dude! That’s awesome! I’ve got a sentient guy, too. I call him ‘Walter.’” Tokoyami’s mouth beak thingy no wait mouth curved upward in a slight smile. The first genuinely kind smile a guy has shown her since Leo left.

“I have a request, Aizawa.” Tokoyami inquired as the two of them were leaving for fourth period. Madie turned to her new friend. “What is it?” The black bird sighed. “I need help with English. Do you think you can teach me?” Madie’s mouth curved slightly. “Sure, I can try. I’m not a good teacher. Come sit with me at lunch, though!” Tokoyami nodded, turning to his class and mumbling something like, “Revelry in the dark…” when a strange side comment was made about his ‘anime talk.’ Well, that was weird.

Madie sat awkwardly at her table, staring into space. Looking at nothing, yet not completely zoned out. “Are you not eating again?” Madie sat up straight, looking slightly upwards at her friend. She was relatively tall, like most people she knew. Her pale face scrunched up in effort to push up her thick round glasses, simultaneously blowing her caramel-brown hair out of her face. Madie grinned. “Bri, I think you need to stop questioning my decisions. I don’t question whatever you were just trying to do, after all.” She paused, glancing around. “Where the frik is Ivy?” “Ivy?” Bri echoed, face more smooth, with only her brows furrowed together in thought. “Ivy Green?” “Yes, Ivy Green. Don’t get me wrong, she gives off fake friend vibes, but I really need an excuse to have Johnathan avoid me a little.” “A little?” “Bri. It’s Johnathan. He’s not gonna stop…uh…messing with me just because I hang out with his freaking sister.” Bri sat down with a huff, grimacing. “Damn understatement of the fucking century, Madie.” “Woah. Bri. You cuss?” “I think we can all say that Johnathan deserves to be cussed out,” She laughed knowingly. Madie nodded, clearing her throat as Ivy herself sat down next to Bri. “Hi guys! What were y’all talking about?” Silence. Ivy smirked awkwardly before switching subjects. “So, anything interesting happen in you guys’ classes lately?” Bri shook her head. Madie, uncharacteristically, spoke up. “We’ve got a project to do in Humanities; I think my partner might be a new student and I asked him to sit with us today.” “Ooh, you should ask him!” Ivy chirped curiously, her hazel eyes gleamed with multiple excited emotions. Bri nodded in agreement. She must really not feel like talking today. Madie sighed jokingly. “That’s my plan. Though it could just be my own unobservant ass’ fault.” Madie must be cursed, because every person she’s talked about today has just- shown up out of nowhere. Tokoyami shuffled awkwardly as he sat down with none other than Johnathan Green standing next to him, smirking so confidently it was almost dark. Well, no. It was dark. It was just that not many would know it at first glance. “You’re welcome,” he quipped, hands on his hips. “Bird-brain was tryina find you, Madie.” Madie nodded stiffly, giving Tokoyami the most reassuring smile she could before Johnathan’s hand was shoved in front of her face. “Back to business as usual.” He prodded. Madie glanced around, trying not to be surprised at Bri and Ivy’s expressions. Their brows were knit in what looked like either pity or concern, she couldn’t decide which. Johnathan cleared this throat. “Give it. Now, Madie.” She was close. Close to crying, that is. Aggressively removing her bag from her shoulders and handing it to Johnathan for her ‘check up’ was normal…for her; she knew the others just weren’t used to seeing this particular part of her school routine. There was a deafening silence at the table, not counting the rustling of the inside of Madie’s small black handbag as the muscular boy rummaged through all three of its pockets. He handed it back about a minute later, the most sickening, shit-eating grin and straight evil look in his eyes as he did so. “All good. See you later!~” He walked off rather quickly, allowing Madie to turn back to her friends at last. “What was that about?” Madie’s relief shifted immediately to annoyance as she glared back at Ivy. “Since when is it any of your fucking business, girl?” Ivy seemed to almost shiver at that, looking defensive. “Okay, geez. I was just asking, since he’s my brother.” Madie huffed. “Ask him, then. He’ll be real glad to tell you. I swear, he’d brag about it to anyone.” Her pounding heart slowed a little, and she turned her attention to Tokoyami. “Hey, sorry ‘bout that.” The raven shook his head. “It’s fine. He seemed rude anyways.” Understatement of the fucking century, Madie snorted inwardly. “Anyways,” she continued. “I need to introduce you to my friends, then we can get to everything else…”

Boy, was Madie glad to be free that day. Johnathan was kind enough to not initiate anything today and school was finally over! Lunch was her favorite part of today, because she learned a lot about Tokoyami. He was, in fact, not a new student, but he never talked to anyone because of his terrible English. He’d been at this school since the beginning of Madie’s 6th grade year. It would’ve been nice to know that she could’ve branched out a little and made some real friends on her own. The reason Tokoyami was even here was because of a business trip his parents had to go on. Call it bad luck that Madie didn’t even know he existed until today. At home, that was pretty much all Madie talked about to her parents over dinner. “I’m happy for you, sweetie,” Madie’s father laughed. “You made a friend without Leo’s help!” Madie giggled in response. “Yeah…but he’s in Japan right now, so I kinda had to.” The two of them laughed for a couple seconds longer before her mother began to talk about something they’d all been anticipating for a while. For Madie’s next birthday, they wanted to do something big for her. For some reason. When Madie asked why, she responded with, “Well, after this birthday, you’ll be in high school! It’s a big change!” Madie pursed her lips in annoyance. It’S a BiG cHaNgE! Cliché. Annoying. Old. She wasn’t complaining, though. It occurred to her, why we’re they just talking about it now? “That’s it?” She wondered aloud. Madie’s father smiled a little more, fixing his long black hair into a messy man-bun. “Well, we wanted you to choose what we do. You can go anywhere you want for this birthday…” A look from her mother. “…and…Kaito’s coming to visit tomorrow. We need to make sure he wants to go.” What? Kaito? “I-It’s fine if the doesn’t, but we need to all be on the same page.” He began to fret a little. Madie blinked, processing the situation. Kaito Aizawa. Kaito-nii. Now? Now of all times, he’s visiting from college? Sighing, she put on the best smile she could for her parents. “Oh. Okay. Thanks for, uh, letting me know.” “Alright, hijita. If you’re done eating, then go shower and head to bed.” Madie’s mom told her smoothly. Madie nodded obediently and rushed upstairs to shower.

Madie lay in bed, trying her very best to sleep. Tomorrow was Saturday, but still. She wanted sleep. Sleep would be great, especially after spending twenty minutes washing filth and ick off of her body. Stupid anxiety. Go away. No. She didn’t hate her brother. She had no negative feelings towards him whatsoever. It’s just… He greatly resembles Johnathan’s appearance. Greatly. The hair, skin, and fashion taste were all the same as him. That’s what made her heart explode in her tightened chest, panic rising. It meant a whole day was going to be spent with someone who resembles her bully. Bully? More like tormentor and rapist, idiot bitch. Whatever. All she had to do was avoid staring at him for too long. That, and avoid any business ties and belts that just happen to be lying around the house. Or, how about this? Just don’t have a fucking panic attack. That would be nice. Should be easy, probably. Just breathe. Remember that he’s related to you and is the polar opposite of who he looks like. An hour passed of repeating these thoughts before Madie fell into a dreamless sleep.

“G’morning, baby sis~” Madie’s eyes shot open at the words. The tone made her chest achingly tight with panic and it only intensified when she saw the face she was looking at. She jumped, sitting upright in her soft bed, hugging onto one of her pillows. The 19-year-old lounging on the edge of her bed erupted with laughter. “Ah! Did I scare you?” he asked. “Sorry ‘bout that.” She blinked at him aggressively. “Yes.” “Why the f—table flip did you say it like that?” “How…else do you want me to say it?” “I—Well—normally, excitedly, tiredly? Any other way but whatever that crap was.” Awkward silence stood between the two siblings. Madie took a deep breath and greeted him back. “Hi, dude. How’s life been?” Kaito shrugged, and the two continued talking semi-awkwardly. Lots of catching up to do! “Wanna go eat now? Mom and Dad said we need to talk about some shit.” Madie nodded. She was hungry and she smelled bacon. That means food. She got up quickly and threw on her white fluffy robe and followed her older brother downstairs and into the kitchen. There, their parents were moving about, getting a hearty breakfast ready for the four of them. Madie’s dad sat down with a cup of creamy coffee and some eggs. He motioned for the two siblings to sit across from him as the food was placed in the center of the wooden table. “I see neither of you have changed yet,” he observed casually. “Mhm,” Kaito responded. “Oh, yeah. You were asleep when I got here, Madie.” Okay. Nice, I guess. Selena cleared her throat. “We want to talk about Madie’s party that’s coming in a few months. Have you decided where you want to go?” Before she could say anything, Kaito sighed dejectedly. “It doesn’t really matter, because I won’t be able to go.” “Oh…” Taeko mumbled, almost disappointed. “Why not?” “I’ve got finals and several huge projects around that time. Don’t think I’ve forgotten when her birthday is.” Her mom pursed her lips. “Kai-“ “No, mom. I would if I could. I really want to go, but I just. Can’t.” Madie’s mom didn’t let any awkward silence set for long. “Well…Johnathan would be a lot happier without you there, I think.” A pang hit Madie’s chest like an electric shock. “What? Johnathan?” She nodded. “You’re inviting him and his friends. I’ve talked to his parents about it already.” Madie’s father raised his arms to his head, cowering in something akin to embarrassment. He mumbled incoherently as his wife continued. “I know you two don’t have the best relationship, but I think it’ll be good for you two to try to get along. Is that hard for you?” Madie drew in a shaky breath. “Mom…I know you want to have everyone be friends and be happy around each other. I respect that. It’s just…Johnathan hates me, I don’t like him, and I just-“ She glanced over at Kaito, who looked ridden with confusion and concern. “I don’t want to have a bad birthday.” Madie’s mother pursed her lips again and sighed. “You need to give each other a chance, sweetie.” “Why would you be concerned about his happiness? Also, why the hell would this guy be happier without me around?” Kaito growled, irritatingly confused. All attention was turned to him; even Madie’s father lifted his head to stare at his son. Madie did her best to maintain eye contact as she explained. “He looks a lot like you, except he has green eyes and he’s a little shorter. That’s why. Honestly, he’d mess with you just for your appearance.” “Mom just seems to think that we need to be suck-ups in order for ‘eVeRyOnE tO bE hApPy’!” She returned to her food as her mother began to lecture her, the anxiety never loosening it’s powerful grip on her chest. “Madie, I realize that you’re upset about this, but I don’t want you talking back to me. I’m trying to make sure that everyone has a good time.” She went on and on and on and on. Eventually, when Madie did respond and apologize, her older brother began calling her out for backing down.

The argument went on for several minutes, but eventually it calmed down. All it took was pleading from Taeko. Madie’s mom sighed. “I’m sorry, everyone. I just…don’t want us to have constant stress over other people.” “You’re fine,” the siblings responded simultaneously. Madie’s father cleared his throat. “I-I hope we’ve come to an agreement. Arguing isn’t good.” They did. That agreement, however, is what Madie’s mom had originally planned. Now she had to give out some invitations…and make a call.

The Monday after, she had to hand Johnathan’s group their invitations, after some…business was taken care of. She made the call after dinner at home. It went something like this:

Ring-ring! Ring-ring! “Hello? Who is this?” “Hi, Ms. Takami. This is Madie, Leo’s friend.” “Oh, hello Madie! How are you doing, sweetie?” Such a faker. She’s good at it, too. “I’m good, how about you?” “I’m doing great! What did you need me for?” “Oh, right.” Madie took a deep breath. “I—I was wondering if Leo would be able to come to my party in a few months? October 6.” Silence over the phone. There were a few background noises, but nothing more. Are those fucking moans!? She continued. “Uh-Well, there are others coming. My-My friend Bri, uh, another friend named Tokoyami, and Johnathan and his friends are coming, courtesy of my mother. Um, just letting you know so that you can make a decision-“ “Oh, Johnathan! I heard that he’s a very good friend of yours and Leo’s, so of course he can go. I’m sure the two of them will be ecstatic to see each other!” Leo’s mother responded with a strange kind of enthusiasm. She should’ve guessed that Johnathan and this whore knew each other. I bet y’all are besties. “Is something the matter?” Ms. Takami asked in false concern. “No, ma’am. I’m fine,” she assured the woman. “I’ll be sure to mail you the invitation today. Can I get your address?” The woman made an affirmative sound, and Madie got a slip of paper to write it down. She then rushed to complete the invitation and mail it off. She wrote the address and names on the card in rushed but neat writing; her mom eyed her with concern. “Is everything okay, mija?” She nodded, finishing and placing it in the envelope. “I’m great, Mami. Leo’s mom is letting him go to the party.”

~~~~

[ginger-grimm]

megaphone to music note for carmen!

YAY CARMEN THANK YOU SO MUCH!

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

Not very loud at all, her voice is very soft and sweet. She has a slight Spanish accent. I don't have a voice claim for her, what I'm picturing is Paulina Chavez's voice with a heavier accent.

📖 OPEN BOOK - do they like reading? what's their favourite genre?

Reading is pretty much the only thing Carmen can do for a while, it keeps her sane. She loves teen literature but also doesn't mind a horror or thriller novel, though she does have to keep those hidden from her parents.

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

Jonathan, Nancy, Vanessa, Murray, or any of the kids in danger will always set Carmen into action. She's not the most skilled fighter, but she will go into overdrive for any of them. The search for her real mother gets her shot, so that's definitely a contender.

📸 CAMERA - do they enjoy having their picture taken? what's their go-to pose? do they like taking photos? what do they take photos of?

Carmen likes having her picture taken, usually by Jonathan. She doesn't have any special pose, just smiles sweetly - though sometimes she'll put her head on her shoulder. It depends on her mood.

🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

Carmen acts differently around grown-ups than she does around her peers or kids younger than her. Around grown-ups, she's quiet and reserved from years of trauma. Around her peers, she quickly learns how to be more assertive and feisty.

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the "last straw" for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

When they hurt her or the people she loves. There's no excuse for that which she can accept. She doesn't let people go easily, too scared to end up lonely.

💡 LIGHTBULB - is your oc a planner? do they write down every small detail or just wing it?

Lowkey control freak. She's not super nuts about it, but pretty close. To Carmen, spontaneous anything is jarring. You have to plan for everything in life.

💎 DIAMOND - how rich are they? can they live the lifestyle they want to?

Not rich at all. She leaves her home and is on the run for a while. Murray isn't exactly rich from his P.I. endeavors, but Carmen doesn't mind. She's just happy to have a home and someone who loves her taking care of her.

🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?

Plants, books, video games, a new tool kit. She's a fantastic gift-giver. Everything is impeccably wrapped and meticulously picked out to fit the person.

🍼 BABY BOTTLE - what are their thoughts on children?

LOVES THEM. She knows others her age find them annoying, but Carmen honestly has so much patience, she doesn't even care when they're being difficult. She also finds them incredibly funny.

🔪 KNIFE - how do they react to injury / misfortune befalling their loved ones (significant other, family, friends)? do they put themselves at blame?

She will only blame herself when it's actually her fault. But she reacts with a lot of love and tries to find solutions to their problems.

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

A kind-hearted person, who made her mark on the world.

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

I just might have a problem that you'll understand We all need somebody to lean on

🎵 MUSIC NOTE - what is their playlist like? their favourite artists? do you associate a particular song with them?

Carmen listens to many things. She really likes Fleetwood Mac, Madonna, U2, and Depeche Mode, among others.

The song that I mainly associate with her is Lean on Me by Bill Withers!

[sunnysglow]

Plans for the month of June.

I didn’t really map out my plans for May so it was kind of a hectic month for me. However, I survived and made it through stress free. So, here’s me mapping out my goals and by putting them on this blog, I will be holding myself accountable.

Goals for June:

Rebuild my wardrobe

Some ways I’m going to do that is by going through my wardrobe and getting rid of everything I don’t wear/doesn’t fit my dream image of myself. After that, I’ll slowly start buying things that do in fact fit the image that I want for her and how I want her to look. Another thing I’ve noticed about my wardrobe, is that it’s very limited which in turn cases it to be repetitive. The excuse I used to use was that the only time I got dressed was to go to work and I really didn’t care about the way I dressed because I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I still don’t have any desire to try to impress anyone but, I feel great when I look good and I like when people notice.

Eat healthier (back to vegan/plant based)

Now one thing I’ve noticed is that I’m the type of person that will eat whatever I don’t have to cook. If its microwaveable, I’ll eat it. If everyone else is eating it, I’ll also eat it. When I was strictly vegan, I didn’t feel as bloated as I do when I eat meat, I lose weight easier, I’m much happier, and my overall health and appearance is much better. I want to get back to feeling like I was on top of the world even when I had a bare face. I also want to cook more and if I have a specific diet that I enjoy that I have to really watch what I eat with, I will definitely have to cook more. It’s super hard to find vegan food where I live anyway.

Workout more (hit the gym daily)

I need to get my body right. At my current weight and appearance, I’m unhappy. I could put on the cutest outfit but I just don’t like the way I look in it. It isn’t that I don’t think I can’t rock it, I definitely can, I just don’t like the current state of my body. I really stopped caring about how I treated my body and now I’m suffering the consequences. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me speaking negatively about my body. I love my body, even with some extra rolls. This is me speaking negatively about the way I’ve treated my body. I need to do better.

Take more time for myself.

I don’t make enough time for loving myself or pampering myself. Like, I really cannot remember the last time I treated myself to an at home spa day. You know, face mask, bubble bath, good book, good wine kind of night. I need to pencil that in more often, even if it means that I have to request days off work.

Save more money/ be smarter with money.

I don’t know how to tell myself “no” when it comes to shopping and it usually end up with me spending way more than my budget. I love retail therapy as much as the next girl. However, we do need to be planning for the future and we do need to have a rainy day fund (just in case of any emergencies that may spring about). I do plan on going to school soon which may mean working less hours and I need to be prepared for that.

Skin care

My skin is so oily and its frustrating. Being mostly barefaced is all fun and games until I look in the mirror and I look like a glazed doughnut. Like seriously?! It’s not cute! And some days I don’t give myself enough time to do a full mattifying makeup look so I’m stuck looking greasy.

Learn Spanish

Learning Spanish is very beneficial career wise and because my boyfriend’s family mostly speaks Spanish. We’re also teaching my goddaughter Spanish and it would help her significantly if I could speak to her in Spanish. It would also make my boyfriend very happy. Though, the person who would benefit the most is me. I honestly love learning languages and before I decided on Spanish, I was teaching myself Korean.

Keep my room clean

I’ve honestly let my room go, honestly. Like I feel like my life is falling apart when it gets messy. I find peace in cleanliness and organization so I’v started the mont with a clean and decluttered room in hopes that I can keep it that way. Honestly, I don’t spend much time in here anymore so I’m hoping that makes it a bit easier.

Read more

I need to get back into reading books. I miss getting lost in the pages and adding new words to my vocabulary. I used to keep myself up late at night just really getting deep into a book and anticipating the next chapter or sequel when I set the book down to rest. It’s a beneficial hobby to possess for many reasons; you’re getting educated and you’re relieving stress. I don’t see anything wrong with that!

There’s so many more things that I want to do but those are my main focus items. This list is my “big picture” list. Things that’ll make a difference in a long run. I also have my minor details list but, they’re easily achievable and they’re also just daily habits I need to stick to.

[thomaslightwood]

Blackthorn Detective Agency - Part 2

Part 1 || Ao3 || Masterlist

This is the KitTy Sherlock AU! (Just changed its name with something more like a fic's title)

It’s set in 1930s, slow burn & will have a few parts!

Words: 3 024

Ty rubbed his fingertips on the frame. It was old, its angels were soft. 

“Peru, 1890,” he read at the bottom of the photo. “This photograph is from more than 40 years ago.”

Which wasn’t unusual for a warlock - they lived for centuries. To keep photos from 40 years ago was logical. But why was this the only thing in this flat that was actually… personal? 

“It's the only personal piece here,” Kit said. Ty almost smiled - they had the exact same thought. “Probably in the whole flat, except the Spanish books.”

“You have a point,” Ty agreed. Between the pages of that book were papers with conjugated verbs in Spanish. Someone had written them there and Ragnor had copied them. That’s why Ty knew this wasn’t Ragnor’s handwriting on the photo. “But this is not his-”

A sharp sound interrupted him. It was the front door. Someone was trying to break it. Not as good at it as Kit, Ty noticed.

They had no time to worry too much. Ty grabbed Kit by the hand, opened the wood door with the other that was still holding the frame and dragged them both inside.

Ty was conscious he overstepped in Kit's personal space but a moment later they heard how the stranger broke the lock and their steps as they came inside.

The room was small and extremely dark. Ty couldn't see anything and he didn't have the space to draw a rune on himself about it. And he actually didn't have his stele in him. The bigger problem - the room was unknown to them. He was worried if they moved too much they'd make noise and would be exposed.

He heard or rather felt how Kit's breath fastened. Was he claustrophobic? Was it a bad idea to bring them in this small room?

Ty heard the slow steps as they were wandering around the room. They were coming dangerously close to the bedroom.

This was probably inappropriate and Ty didn't know if it would help at all but he must try. He carefully raised a hand and hurried it in Kit's hair. He dragged him closer to Ty until Kit's head was in Ty's neck.

He squeezed a little and Kit pressed against Ty. They both hold into each other in the sea of darkness, trying not to lose balance.

Ty was hearing the stranger's step in the room. They murmured something angrily. Ty was barely breathing. If they heard him and Kit in the closet…

A loud shatter interrupted his thoughts. Ty recognized it was a man's voice by the angry murmur. 

For a few more minutes he walked around the apartment, like he… he was searching for something. And he couldn't find it. Eventually the man breathed out heavily and opened the door, not bothering to shut it quietly after himself.

They waited a few more minutes, just to be safe. Then Ty carefully let go of Kit and opened the door. The sudden light hurt his eyes so he squinted for a while to get used to it.

The bed was untouched but Ty couldn't say the same about the living room. There were books on the floor, the table was inverted.

“He was searching for something,” Kit quietly said as he carefully grabbed a book from the floor. Was Ty imagining it or his face was a little flushed?

“Yes,” Ty agreed. He was still holding the frame with the photo. “But what? Could it possibly be this?” He handed the frame to Kit.

Kit took it and shrugged. “Maybe. But why is one old photo important?”

More questions. Even though they were in the very beginning and everything was unclear, Ty felt the thrill every new case evoked in him. The burning curiosity that tickled his insides, the thirst to know everything about the subject.

“I think we should go,” Kit said. He took the photo off the frame and put it in the pocket of his coat. “They may return or a neighbor heard the noise.”

Kit had a point, Ty thought but there was something that made him feel uneasy.

Kit was heading for the door but Ty slowed down before leaving the flat. He looked around once more. The books on the floor, the almost empty shelves and the open door to the bedroom. Ty grabbed one list with Spanish verbs and closed the door after himself.

      After this they went to the train station. It was surprisingly hard to find the schedule for the trains from a few days ago.

The guy they talked with wasn't happy about it. Kit could see he just wanted to enjoy his lunch. And probably was tempted to call the security to throw them out. 

But then Ty pulled out cash and the man was suddenly more friendly.

Ty didn't talk much nor did he look man in the eyes. Kit was feeling like he just wanted to get the information as fast as possible.

After the man was gone for a few minutes he returned with paper with what they asked for.

“Thank you very much,” Kit said as Ty put the list in the inside of his coat. “We appreciate your help.”

The man murmured something and sat heavily on his chair, finally able to eat.

“That was smart,” Ty said as they came out on the street, waiting to catch a taxi. 

“What?” Kit asked.

“To ask for the people who worked on the train that day. I didn't think about it.”

“It's nothing, really. I was just thinking about what I can do to help yesterday.”

The truth was Kit just wanted to be useful. Part of him was afraid if Ty noticed Kit wasn't doing anything he would fire him. He probably wasn't as good as Sherlock but he could understand how a criminal thinks. What they may have missed.

“I assume you already know because you're good at what you do, but,” Kit said. “People are important. They witness, tell, see and do crimes. They... they are the driving machine. Evidence is important but a person is the key. So I just thought about what people we can talk with.”

There was something thoughtful in Ty's expression as he watched Kit's cheek. “I'm not quite sure I agree.”

Before Kit could answer, a taxi stopped in front of them. 

As soon as Ty told the driver the direction, Kit said “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why don't you agree with me?”

“Well,” Ty said and the thoughtful look returned on his face. “It's true a person is the subject that commits the crime. But people… they are not what they appear to be. They're often hard to understand and you can't be sure who they are. They lie. And have inaccurate memories and sometimes are too afraid to tell the truth and to help. What I'm trying to say is that they're too often an unreliable source. While evidence… it's unchangeable on its own. Oneself is true to the very end. It's up to you to interpret how it fits in the whole picture. If it's wrong, it's your mistake. You're the only one to blame. While a person's words… you can't control that. Or trust it enough to interpret it rightfully.“

Ty stopped for a second, looking outside the taxi's window.

“What I'm trying to say is that a person can mislead you. Evidence never does.”

Kit was silent. The taxi pulled over in front of a small cafe, nestled between two clothing shops. Taki's Diner .

Kit remembered this was the name of the place Katarina and Ragnor met.

“We are going to question the employees?”

“Not quite,” Ty said simply and headed towards the restaurant. Kit followed, curiously looking at the surroundings.

There weren't many people. It was still early and most of them seemed sleepy. There were Downworlders as well as mundanes. Kit spotted a warlock with fully orange eyes flirting with a pale girl, probably a vampire.

There was also a mundane man who was reading a newspaper and murmured something to himself.

Ty headed at one table on the back, a bit hidden from the rest. The tables around it were empty. From the radio quietly came a Louis Armstrong's song. Kit smiled at that. He loved jazz.

Ty and Kit sat on the table. Kit took off his coat and cap.

A faerie waitress appeared in front of them and smiled. She was a short blonde who had two many bracelets on her arms.

“Hello gentlemen,” she smiled at them. “Here are your menus - look at it, choose a meal and I'll come to take your order.”

“Thank you,” Kit smiled at her. She winked in return and headed towards another table.

He returned his eyes on Ty. He had taken off his coat. It was carefully placed on the third chair on the table. He was looking around the cafe, touching the corners of his menu.

“If we're not here to interview the staff,” Kit said. “What are we here for?”

“To watch,” Ty said simply. “Observe. Talk with the regular clients.”

Kit looked around again, looking for something else this time. A woman who Kit immediately recognized as faerie sat on a table, crossed her legs and took out a book from her bag.

The waitress returned after a few minutes.

“Are you ready?” She had a notebook and pencil in her hands.

Kit hesitated. He didn't want to spend too much money but nothing here was too expensive.

“Onion omelet for me.” 

“Chipped potatoes please.”

She hurriedly wrote their orders down and smiled again. “Is that all?”

“Yes, thank you,” Ty said.

“Actually,” Kit said suddenly. Ty quickly looked at him but didn't say anything. He looked at the waitress pin with her name. “Nancy, right? My friend and I were wondering about something and it would be amazing if you can help us.”

“Of course,” she said and curiosity burned in her eyes. They were very blue.

“We thought a friend of ours arrived in the city a few days ago. He tends to like this place and we were wondering if he was here a few days ago perhaps?”

“What is he like?” she asked.

Kit took out the photo from Peru of Ragnor and his friends. 

She took and Kit could see on her face she recognized someone in the photo. She nodded enthusiastically.

“I have seen two of these people! The man with the white hair. He was here around three days ago with the woman.”

“Can you tell us something… unusual you noticed about them?”

The waitress - Nancy - shrugged.

“The usual warlocks. They stayed for an hour or two and then left. At the end of my shift he returned though.”

“Really?” Kit said casually, like he was merely curious for a friend. “Was he alone?” Then he leaned forward a little and said more quietly with a playful smile. “We suspect he may hide a lover from us.”

The faerie chuckled. “I don't know sweetheart. When I was leaving he just sat on a table. I left before seeing anything. You can ask my friend Lizzy. She was the one who took his order.”

“Oh. When can we find her?” Kit asked. 

“She starts at 11 p.m. Earlier if it's cloudy.”

She must be a vampire , Kit thought.

“Thank you so much,” Kit smiled at her one more time. “We deeply appreciate it.”

“You're welcome,” she chuckled again and left them alone.

Kit turned to Ty and caught him watching him.

“You see?”

Ty looked confused. “See what?”

“People are useful. You need witnesses.”

Unexpectedly, Ty smiled. It warmed up something in Kit's chest.

“I have never said I don't.”

“But you hinted at it.”

“I did not,” Ty said. Without taking his eyes off Kit he reached to his coat and pulled off his notebook. “I stated that people are often misleading.”

“But when I said people are important for a case, you said you're not sure you agree.”

“You also said a person is the key. With which I'm not sure I agree. I didn't say a person can't or isn't important.”

Kit exhaled. Damn , he thought. He is good.

“Good. You win. This time.”

Ty shook his head with a smile. He started to write something on the open notebook in front of him. Probably the information the faerie told them.

After a few minutes their meals arrived. Onion omelet and chipped potatoes. Ty barely looked at his food. At some point he finished writing and took the fork for the potatoes.

“So,” Kit said after swallowing a bite from the omelet. “If you're Sherlock Holmes then who am I?”

“What do you mean?” Ty glanced at him.

“Well,” Kit slowly cut out another bite from his food. “You and Livvy are a team. And you're Sherlock. I can't be a Sherlock with you. I'm not her. So I probably need another name.” 

“Good point,” Ty said. He looked thoughtful while he chewed. “How do you wanna be called then?”

Kit was caught off guard a little. He expected Ty to dismiss it or leave it for later.

“I haven't thought about it,” Kit admitted and slowly moved an omelet piece from one side of the plate to the other.

“We can think about it later,” Ty said. “My sister can help us with that.”

“You mean Livvy?”

“No,” Ty said, looking around the restaurant. “My other sister, Dru.”

Kit blinked at him. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Three sisters and three brothers,” Ty said and took a potato piece in his mouth.

“Whoa,” Kit said, forgetting the food in front of him. “Big family.”

“Indeed.”

Kit wondered what it would be like to have so many relatives. So many brothers and sisters. People close to you, to thrust, to be sure they would have your back. 

His father's voice rang in his head. And more people to run away with. Harder to get away. Harder to live with.

The food's taste in Kit's mouth turned into ash. He lost his appetite. Carefully left on the fork and the knife in the plate. 

Ty didn't seem to notice Kit's inner thought for which he was glad.

“The woman,” Ty said quietly. “The one faerie that sat after we came. She's a regular.”

“How would you know?” unconsciously, Kit leaned forward to hear what Ty had to say.

“Nancy, the waitress, didn’t ask her for her order. She even didn’t give her a menu. She directly put a coffee and a muffin in front of her. And the woman called Nancy by name - they know each other.”

“Impressive,” Kit murmured inattentively. “So, you want to talk with her?”

“Well,” Ty shrugged. “A few minutes ago - yes. Now, when we know Ragnor was here at nighttime, at the end of Nancy’s shift, I’m not sure she’d be useful.”

Kit rose up. “Let's find out.”

After a few minutes in which Kit started a conversation with her about borrowing the salt, he returned to their table with a salt shaker. He signed, disappointed.

“Nothing,” Kit said. “She had no idea what I'm talking about. And thought I'm just flirting with her.” 

“Were you?”

“What?” Kit blinked.

“Flirting with her,” Ty said, not taking his eyes off the notebook in front of him.

“Well,” Kit felt a little uncomfortable. “Yes, I kind of did. But it was just for the sake of the case. I'm not… interested in her that way.” 

Ty glanced at Kit's face for a few seconds then returned to writing in his notebook. Kit didn't notice. He was suddenly anxious that Ty would think of him as a flirting careless man. 

“Sometimes,” Kit started, carefully picking his words. “I flirt with people to get what I want. When I was in my early teens - to get away with something.”

Ty curiously gave him a glance.

“Did you have to do it often?”

“Well,” Kit said thoughtfully. “No, no that often. But I did it anyway. I… I think I liked to give strangers pieces of me that are… safe to give. And gender doesn't matter to me anyway.” Nothing too personal. Nothing long. Only a flirt, a few minutes of other people's time. The only kind of relationship Kit could afford.

“I can see why people like you,” Ty said, rolling the pen in his hands. “You're a rather charming man.”

Kit couldn't help but laugh.

Ty frowned.

“Did I say something out of place?”

Kit shook his head. “No, no. It's just that I don't think I'm charming. Or that people like me . ”

"Charm" was an abstract idea for him. He may pass for good looking but he didn't think of himself as "charming". Charm meant power. It attracted people to you. It made them like you. 

Kit didn't make people like him. He let them make an idea for him in their heads and allowed them to believe it. This wasn't a charm. It was lying.

Ty arched an eyebrow.

“Well. I would say I like you,” then he returned his gaze back at his notebook, adding something to the already written text.

His words caught Kit completely off-guard. He was holding his fork and it just levitated in space. 

Kit didn't know how to react. No one before had said something like that to him. He knew Ty probably said it to make him feel better. But something made him think Ty Blackthorn didn't say things he doesn't mean.

“Anyway,” Ty said and closed his notebook. “We're done here.”

“Really? What about questioning the waitress Lizzy?”

“We will return here after sunset for this,” Ty said. “But now we can do something more useful with our time.”

Kit felt dread in his stomach. He couldn't stay after dark. Or could he? Would his father notice? He always did. 

Should he tell Ty? No, no, he was going to figure something out.

“What are we going to do now?” he asked, hoping Ty didn't notice anything strange.

He looked at the watch on his hand.

“We will meet my sister. Dru.”

To be continued...

[theonlygamergost]

French homework and a Dream - fd!au. ( part 1 / 2)

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay ctic-bay if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

This fic was corrected by the lovely @im-default

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

Techno and Dream did the fatal mistake of choosing French over Spanish and now they have to suffer the consequences together

next part --->

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

Enjoy~

Lunch break was sacred for Techno, it was that magic moment where he sat at a table alone, in the corner of the cafeteria with a book of his choice to read and block out the chaos of the fellow students. You know what they say: if you can't find peace, create your peace.

With lo-fi music or classical piano in his ears, he would peacefully eat his lunch, recharging his social energy (already consumed in the first half of the day) by not talking nor seeking company. Even though, from time to time, he would get some visitors:

One of his brothers could drop by if they needed to talk to him or they were also already feeling exhausted, Skeppy would also sit with him and try to initiate conversations, in vain since Techno ends up ignoring him unless he needed something important.

All in all, Techno didn’t allow anyone to disturb or interrupt his moment of peace, neither he liked sharing his book or music with anyone…

Well, anyone apart from Dream.

In between the rivalry for the smartest kid and best (nerd) Minecraft pvp-er, the two had started frequenting now and then, maybe studying at the library together or grabbing a bite after school before parting ways, all in all, they found to have a similar love for quiet company and taste in music.

So, to see Dream sit next to Techno, steal one of his earbuds, and tug the book a little closer for him to read as well wasn’t rare, but a treat to see.

“TALK TO ME TECHNO!!!” Skeppy had been trying to get his friend’s eyes off of the book for about five minutes or so, just to get completely denied by an unbothered and concentrated face. “Techno pleaseee!!!! I need attention!” his head fell on the table, “...I can tell” he finally replied while turning the page.

Skeppy groaned and went on bothering him for another five minutes.

Techno sighed, “Can’t you go bother someone else?” Skeppy was about to complain again, but a familiar laugh made the both of them stop and look at the direction it came from, “You’re so needy Skeppy”.

The boy in the green hoodie placed his tray next to Techno’s, leaving his backpack on the seat next to him, “YEAH! And this stupid pig isn’t giving me any attention!!!” after a second of silence they all giggled at Techno being addressed as “Pig”, something that only Skeppy could get away with. Not even Dream could call him that without either a complaint or a casual roast coming from the other teen as a consequence.

“Have you studied for tomorrow’s French test?” He took a bite of… whatever the cafeteria had made that day, he couldn’t really tell since it was so… revolting-looking, but it didn’t taste that bad and Dream was pretty hungry. Skipping breakfast was a habit of his so whatever he could eat at lunch was fine by him, it just needed to fill him up until the end of the day.

“Nah… I can’t remember some of the verbs, let alone when and how to use them” he replied before sipping on some water, “Same… some words are unpronounceable too… “ Dream and Techno both made the grave mistake of choosing French over Spanish as a second language, Techno made a very bad first impression with the teacher and Dream overslept three lessons in a month, let’s say that if they didn’t do good on this test… they could kiss goodbye a good French overall vote at the end of the year.

Skeppy exploded in a loud laugh, banging one of his fists on the table meanwhile holding his stomach, “Sucks to be you!” they sighed in defeat, Skeppy got convinced into choosing Spanish by a friend so he couldn’t relate to their problems since legends told that the Spanish teacher was a very nice person.

“I’ll leave you two to your nerdy problems, later losers!” Dream told him goodbye meanwhile Techno simply waved.

The blonde boy stretched his arms and grabbed both his phone and diary out of the backpack, flipping through it he nudged the other boy lightly, “We only have French for tomorrow… wanna study together?” Techno hummed a reply as the blondie took one of his earbuds, Techno reacted with a question: “Want to study at the library or..?” Dream’s head tilted, “Or what? We don’t have another place to study” Techno furrowed his brows for a second, “Well… no, you’re right”.

The reply made Dream curious, but he limited himself to finishing his meal in silence, enjoying the quiet company until the bell rang.

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

“It’s already six pm?! We haven’t even finished memorizing this stuff!” Dream groaned in frustration while Techno just dropped his head on the book in front of him, they had been studying for two hours interrupted only by a bathroom break, and they weren’t even half-way done with their homework.

“This will be the only low grade on my paper this year…” the low murmur was muffled by the fact that Techno’s head was still slumped on the books, “Oh come on…”, Dream rubbed out the tiredness from his eyes, “I know that I won’t get anything done once I get back home, my ADHD goes crazy when I’m studying French… it knows I don’t want to study it so it makes me think about everything but that!”, the blonde boy chuckled, “I can never focus when It’s French too…”

Well, that was a slump, both of them knew that going part-ways wasn’t going to work… If they wanted a decent grade they had to have a study partner.

So Techno took a shot in the dark.

“Ok listen, I’ve got a plan:  come sleep over at my place, my desk it’s a bit messy but if I throw everything on the ground we’ll fit, you can’t eat dinner with us because Phil already cooked it and it’s not enough for five people, it’s not enough- but we can go eat somewhere”.

Dream froze in genuine shock: he had never gone to the Pandel house, nor he had ever been invited by Techno anywhere really, he was usually the one that asked him to grab a bite together, Techno only ever asked him to study, and that was already pretty rare. So getting such an out-of-nowhere invitation to eat together AND sleep at his house was… very surprising.

“Uhh… sure, can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?” Techno nodded, “Well then…  should we go eat now so that we have more time to study later?” Techno nodded again and they started packing up their stuff, grabbing books and pencils that scattered on the table while studying.

“McDonald’s?” Dream proposed, “McDonald’s” Techno replied.

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

Meanwhile, they were crunching on some fries, Techno texted the Pandel chat about Dream sleeping over, Phil agreed almost instantly, telling Techno where he could get some blankets and an additional pillow, the problems were Wilbur and Tommy that didn’t like the idea of having Dream in their house, (because they had a Minecraft server where they and Dream had a bit of a… “difference” of opinions…) but Techno told them to cry about it and closed the chat, reassuring the boy in the green hoodie that he could spend the night with him.

On their way home, Techno had noticed by reading the notifications that the Berry brothers had proposed a last-minute movie night, to which the other Pandel’s agreed, already counting Techno off, so it wasn’t a surprise that they met Wilbur and Tommy leaving when they arrived.

“I’m glad we are leaving, two tryhards together must be a revolting sight” Wilbur adjusted his coat as Tommy tied his laces, “I’m glad you guys are leaving too, we really need to study and my desk is a bit small, we can use the kitchen until you come back” Dream stifled a giggle, the passive-aggressive energy the Pandel had when speaking to each other was very entertaining, Techno turned to him and pointed at the clothes hanger behind the door, “Put your jacket there, oh and don’t forget to take your shoes off, I’ll get you a pair of slippers, Eret’s one should fit you”

He opened the closet to almost disappear in it, “Bye big D! Have fun with TechnoNerd!” Dream cringed at Tommy’s goodbye while Wilbur snickered at it, “Bye… and please don’t call me that ever again”

The front door closed as Techno dropped a pair of dark blue slippers in front of him, he thanked him, grabbed his backpack and followed the pink-haired boy while looking around:

the living room and the kitchen were in the same room, there was also no proper table, not that there was room for it, so he guessed that they ate on the kitchen counter.

There were four doors in the room, the first one on the left before the kitchen, a pig sticker gave Techno’s room away, on the other side of it, next to the couch, there was a door with a big sign spelling “NO BITCHES ALLOWED” with an evil smile scribbled next to it, he guessed that was Tommy’s room.

Not too far away from Tommy’s room, there was another door, but this time nothing was on it, and the fourth door was to the right of that blank door aka on the opposite side of the front door. He guessed one was a room and one was the bathroom, there was a hole next to the fourth door though…

Techno sat on one of the stools and opened his backpack, “As I’ve said, we can stay here until the others come back, if you need the bathroom it’s this one” He pointed at the door directly behind him, door number three… but then…

“Why is there a hole next to that door” Dream pointed at the forth door, Techno smiled briefly, “Uhhh… It’s a long and secret story, but to give you an idea that is Will’s room” He blinked a couple of times to let the information sink in, Techno snapped him out of it by waiving his pen in front of his eyes.

“C’mon nerd, we have work to do.” To which Dream apologized and sat next to him, taking a deep breath before opening the french textbook.

[amphii-writes]

Random Haikyuu Head Canons I Have

these are all taken from my discord server cause i remember to write them there, if you want to request fanfics, my requests are W I D E open! there is also nO order! these are just all the headcanons i could find tbh

warnings: mentions of blood, and just overall wild times, swearing

Asahi loves knitting sweaters because his shoulders are broad and he also loves seeing the reactions from his teammates when they get a sweater from him! He says he buys them but he doesn’t

Aone likes knitting socks because he has big feet and he loves fluffy knee high socks but his team will never know

Asahi and Aone regularly hang out and knit together! (after asahi wasnt scared of him anyways)

Nishinoya gives you shiny rocks he finds because “your eyes shine like them!”

Yamaguchi likes to have your head rest on his chest while cuddling!

Aone likes to bake

Aone dressed like a polar bear because koganegawa told him to- halloween was amazing

daICHI HAS A KISS THE COOK APRON

Daichi secretly can make some kick ass steak and is amazing at grilling sorry

Okay but real talk, Kenma and Yaku swear like sailors and it scares everyone because they always whisper the most foul, insulting things under their breath. Hearing it is like seeing a cryptid

Speaking of cryptids, Fukunaga and Shibayama are THE most true crime, mythology, and mystery obsessed fanatics on the team and often fanboy about it together 

Fukunaga’s obsession with moth man has gotten to an unhealthy stage

Kenma absolutely had a vampire phase and has read twilight. Only Kuroo knows and has sworn to secrecy via blood pact

Kuroo’s a musical nerd. Knows all of the lyrics to Hamilton, BMC, DEH, Heathers, Rent, Beetlejuice, Etc. Kenma considered dropping him because of it

Iwaizumi tells the worst dad jokes and Kyotani, wanting to beat him, started doing it too and it drives everyone insane

Yahaba and Matsukawa get along surprisingly well. Both are true crime freaks and bond over their forensic files obsessions

Matsukawa didn’t really like his thick eyebrows so he got one of his female friends to pluck it for him, but almost cried and gave up after the first hair. Oikawa called him a pussy for the next year

Hanamaki jokingly flirts with everyone on the team so most of them just got used to it, but it still confuses Kindaichi to the point of mental breakdown

Makki called Kyotani ‘puppy’ as a joke once and now mad dog is truly terrified of him

Kyotani’s dog absolutely ADORES Oikawa and it’s the funniest shit to the rest of the team

Mattsun and Makki play DnD and once convinced Yahaba and Kyotani to join. Kyotani kept rolling to fight everyone and Yahaba was a bard that kept rolling to seduce everyone. They kept yelling across the board so they had to kick them out

Outside of his school uniform, Goshiki specifically wears only plaid

Tendou makes little chocolates for the whole team every once in a while so they don’t think he’s scary

Semi and Shirabu once had a fistfight in an abandoned McDonald’s parking lot while Tendou filmed and Goshiki cheered them on

Everybody makes fun of Shirabu’s haircut but nobody dares to say it to his face. its gotten to the point where they say he got it done by a blind old lady

There’s a running joke about Shirabu also getting his haircut from prison but Goshiki is starting to suspect that it may not be a joke

Yamagata and Tendou are good friends with the mutual goal of collecting as much blackmail on their team as possible

Tendou loves animals generally considered to be ‘ugly’ like rats, crows, reptiles, etc.

80% of Goshiki’s playlist is shit overplayed on the radio. Him, Shirabu, Tendou, Kawanishi and Ushijima have a permanent ban from the aux cord

Nobody watches YouTube with Ushijima because he never skips the damn ads (other than tendou)

Suna once said y’all’dn’t’ve unironically and made a first year cry

Akagi once said UwU unironically and had an identity crisis.

Osamu has one of those rainbow gaming keyboards and is constantly on a discord call. Atsumu always yells weird shit in the background to embarrass him and once pretended to be him

During Seijoh group chat arguments. Hanamaki and Mattsukawa like to drop facebook minion memes in just to piss everyone off even more

mattsun and maki both have separate photo albums in their phones labelled ‘minion memes to piss everyone off’

Hinata carries a pocket knife and no one has no fucking idea why

mattsun and maki both have matching rat fursuits that look like they actually where in a sewer- they chased oikawa around

For all his talk of plant analogies and metaphors, Ushijima cant grow shit

Goshiki’s Bangs are the way they are because his favorite character was Rock Lee from Naruto

Oikawa has watched Ouran High School Host Club front to back so many times and he can quote all of Tamaki’s lines by heart -He keeps bothering Iwaizumi to “be his Haruhi, since you’re shorter than me”

Koganegawa has definitely gone as an Angry Bird for Halloween

Fukunaga has those reflective cat eyes, and he has terrified Yamamoto on several occasion

Hanamaki and Matsukawa have a teddy bear that they pretend is their child and they share custody

Suga always sprays whipped cream straight into his mouth whenever he sees a can

Nishinoya definitely bit people as a kid

Nishinoya would be the guy to wear shorts all year round and even if it's snowing, he'll insist he's not cold

Tendou is still stuck in his emo phase and would fangirl over Creepypasta with me and I appreciate that (me too buddy, me fuckin too)

Kyoutani LOOKS like he’d listen to viking death metal, but in reality he listens to Mother Mother and knows all the words to Ghosting

Sugawara would definitely encourage me to dumb shit and not stop me, and you’re all dumb for thinking he wouldn’t 

KENMA IS NOT ‘uwu owo’ SHY, HE IS ‘your fucking gross’ SHY SO LITERALLY STFU

Bokuto listens to Nicki Manaj. And knows all the words. To every. Single. Song.

Ushijima for some reason knows an odd amount of 90′s-2000′s R&B and he will hum along to the songs if they come on the radio (he also loves Dolly Parton) ((he says he relates to her music))

Bokuto once ate instant ramen for an entire month

TERUSHIMA DID TRY TO FUCK A PLANT WHILE SHITFACED AND GOD I STAND BY WHAT I SAID

atsumu let’s you put makeup on him and pretends to eat the brushes (do yk what im talking about- like n o m)

tendou ran for school president as a joke but actually won

i 100% believe that all of karasuno’s third years apologize when they bump into inanimate objects, but when suga is really tired or stressed out, he’ll yell at them instead.

Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Taketora have a group chat called "Bros who want sum hoes" and they send each other hypebeast memes and shit

Sugawara knows how to do a bunch of flexible shit because he sometimes goes to yoga with daichi and asahi's moms, its fucking hilarious

tanaka and noya both breakdance- they work as a team and sometimes go to tokyo for underground competitions- saeko drives them

Daichi knows a little ballet- nobody other than Kiyoko knows because they saw each other at the ballet class and had to work together- dont tell tanaka and noya that he lifted her though

Osamu once put glitter on Atsumu's pillow- he still finds hot pink glitter on shit

kita knits and crochets with his grandma

Kita's grandma knows everyone's names because kita talks shit bout them, her favorite is Aran

Kuroo has burnt his eyebrows off doing an experiment. His goggles didn't cover all his brows,,, so he just showed up to practice like that. No eyebrows and a chemical burn

kenma has played all kinds of games, but he was dared to play corpse party by kuroo. He wasn't scared because of the gore, he was thinking about the trauma the characters went through. Punched kuroo the next day because that game was fucked up

Lev isn't a strong swimmer, so he often grabs people by the head to keep himself up. happened with kenma and lev couldn't walk due to the force of kenmas suprised water kicks

akaashi has those fancy pens that you have to dip in ink and they're so nice

Bokuto has and will eat pencil erasers again

Daichi once almost lost his shit at his team but instead he lost his shit at the door that decided to stub his toe on the way out of the gym. not the best thing to be found yelling to.

Yamaguchi for sure has been dragged to one of terushimas parties because he didnt wanna say no. oh and terushima has like frat boy level parties too. Yams has for sure had some wild nights and doubts anyone other than Tsukishima and the party-goers will ever know

Akaashi can actually flirt very well! He reads romance novels sometimes and has analyzed any and every book in his possession! so he's actually quite charming

Daihsou unironically posted on twitter after mika broke up with him "I still see her shadows in my room"

Mattsun and Maki run a fake oikawa account; its been going ever since twitter even started getting popular and they even started sending messages in spanish. The posts would range from "I love all my fans!" to flirting with them :) Oikawa is pissed cause the account got verified before he did and most of his fans also follow the fake oikawa. Tooru has no idea who runs it JUST IMAGINE OIKAWA JUST LIKE RANTING TO THE SEIJOH 3RD YEAR ALUMNI AND JUST "no Iwa-chan, you dont understand! they run a fake account and pretend to be me!" while makki and mattsun laugh their asses off

Oh, kenma for sure has pretended to be a girl on discord and has gotten someone to buy him stuff. after they do he says in his normal voice "fucking simp" and then hangs up and blocks the other persons discord

Yamamoto, despite his rough appearance, loves kids and has and will be a human jungle gym

suna in middle school had a game with his friends about who could make kids cry the fastest

The twins switched places back in middle school and nobody could tell because of how great they are at acting like eachother

Daichi once arrested coach ukai for public intoxication after a game :|

Daichi has arrested many people from his old volleyball team but the most memorable case was when he arrested tanaka and noya for reckless driving. poor idiots got so scared when they saw their old captains face in their mirror and started to pray

tanaka, while trying to intimidate someone, once said "You dont gotta tell me twice, i may be straight but these hands are bisexual" and he often cringes at night thinking about it

Kageyama, as a comeback to Tsukishima, said "one thing about us royalty is that we love to feast" and he also fuckin hates what he said

the third years made a cult for Kiyoko. they chant every wednesday "i'll do anything for kiyoko, she makes me go loco"

oikawas fangirls are known to be fucking rabid

yAMAMOTO AND KENMA AFTER THEIR FIGHT WERE FORCED BY KUROO TO MAKE IT UP: so they dyed their hair together

Makki and mattsun sang two trucks in front of the entire team. everyone was so confused. Makki: "twO TRUCKS HAVIN SEX!!" Mattsun: "oH yEs!"THEY'D SWITCH OFF AND HAVE LIKE CHOREOGRAPHY TOO LIKE THEY'D DO A TANGO WHILE THE SONG IS LIKE "two beer trucks, making love"

tendou once called Oikawa "mr. no-nationals" and got kicked in the shins before iwaizumi could save him

Tsukishima had a my little pony phase

you work with matsukawa at a morgue and he makes dead people jokes while you fix some dead guys face with wax and makeup he'd be like "so didnt he like,,, stick his head out of the sunroof of a moving fuckin car??" he'd be singing dumb ways to die the entire day

i feel like Kuroo has one crazy accident a year. like it might not be deadly but its fucking crazy like for example: Kuroo for sure has ridden in a shopping cart at past midnight with kenma (who pushed him down a hill) causing Kuroo to get scratched up hella well. he lied and said he spent the night with a girl and kenma fucking hated himself cause he would be the girl if that was true

Mattsun has flirted with the 4th years moms before (AS A JOKE), and because of this: he is known as “fuckin milf hunter” sometimes by the team

Warning, this next headcanon is talking about cannabis, weed, mary jane, the zoink root. so if your uncomfortable, please dont read below :)

dude i wanna get high as SHIT with Asahi 

i think Asahi would be one of those mfkers who takes one hit and is gone 

ASAHI ACCIDENTALLY GOING TO PRACTICE ZOINKED 

IMAGINE HIM SEEING TSUKISHIMA AND JUST "he looks so judgemental,,, im scared" 

OR LIKE A MAD DAICHI AND JUST "i'm gonna,,, im gonna go jump out the window now" 

Noya and Tanaka would know tho, i feel like they'd have a 6th sense when it comes to weed. they probably get some from Saeko cause she'd rather they do it in the house. they'd smell asahi like fucking dogs and just so,,, big guy had fun without us huh? 

DAICHI WOULD KNOW ABOUT ASAHI BEING ZOINKED, SMASH HIS FACE INTO THE WALL, TURN AROUND WITH A RED MARK ON HIS FOREHEAD AND WITH A BEAMING SMILE AND FEUX ENTHUSIASM SAY: "YOSH, LETS WARM UP!"

[mostly-megan]

Triple Frontier Boys Background Headcanons

(Will, Benny, Frankie, Santi)

(A/N: As always, shoutout and big hugs to @pedropasscals for encouragement/beta reading/screaming with me in dms 💚)

Will:

Will used to write big stories when he was a kid about aliens and cowboys and knights and dragons and ghost and everything little boys want to read about. They were pretty good. He always shared them with his mom and then with Benny.

After their mom died, he tried sharing them with his dad. The poor man was so tired after working and shared Will’s quiet nature. He tried to be encouraging, but never quite found the words to express how much he liked the story.

Will still writes stories, but now he rarely shows anyone. Sometimes, Benny gets to read them. If he’s really serious with you, he can be convinced to read excerpts to you.

He’s kept a journal since he first left for boot camp. His dad suggested it would be a good way to keep himself grounded. He considers it one of his few good habits the army gave him, keeps it up back in civilian life.

The entries are all different types. Sometimes, it’s just writing out the events that happened since he woke up. When he’s nervous about the next day, it’s basically a to-do list. Most are letters: to people he misses at home with words he could never say, to his mom when he feels like he doesn’t know what to do, to Benny when he’s mad about some immature decision he knows he’ll end up having to support. Sometimes they aren’t addressed, he’s just writing to someone out there.

He has written out character traits and descriptions of each of the boys, in case he ever decides to write that book he always tells Benny he’ll write. He secretly likes doing character analysis on them, though.

Benny:

Benny’s the one who gave all the others their nicknames. The others thought they were stupid at first, but he liked them. But by the time they all came around, it had been too long to give Benny one and no one could figure out a good one.

He’s a pretty good artist. His mom liked art and took the time to get him interested in it when he was little, to give him a way to get out energy when sitting still. It still calms him down and gives his brain a good release of energy when it just keeps spinning.

He would draw illustrations for the stories Will wrote when they were little. He was more than a little hurt when Will stopped sharing a lot of his stories with him, so he is thrilled whenever Will gives him the chance to read a part of one. He’ll draw the odd doodle of whatever it’s about and text it to him.

He doesn’t remember much about his mom and he’s always felt guilty about that. He has some memories, but he was do little when she passed away that there isn’t much he can recall. He remembers playing with her and her singing and drawing with him.

After he left service, he went around and asked his mom’s friends what kind of perfume she liked and tracked down two bottles, one for him and Will. The smell of it helps him remember some different times with her and makes him feel better about not having many memories.

When they were teenagers and he was sick or upset about something, Will would tell him stories about their mom. Some were Will’s and some from their dad. They gave him something to focus. There are late nights where he still calls Will to ask him to recall an old story. His favorite is how their parents met: his dad accidentally tapped her fender and, when he got out to apologize, she said he was cute and asked him out. They went skating.

Frankie:

Frankie liked reading about old myths and legends as a kid. His favorite were the old knight stories with dragons. He named their Dalmatian George, after the Saint who fought a dragon. He favorite thing was playing pretend that he was a knight getting to save the day.

His dad made and painted a cardboard sword for his 7th birthday. He spent everyday running around on his hobby horse, defending his mama from the deadly dragon, played by the very accommodating George. But if George barked too loud, Frankie went bolting behind her legs, too startled by the noise. She just take off his tinfoil helmet and ruffled his hair with a soft “Ah, mijito”.

He still often buries himself in old stories. Sometimes he would look up legends from wherever they were deploying. Santi used to snort and say it seemed silly, but they all listened intently while Frankie recounted stories of magic and heroism during stressful moments.

During one of their first deployments, Benny drew him a dragon as a birthday present. It was pretty small and just in pencil. Frankie keeps it hung up in his house because it meant a lot to get something like that when he was not in a great place.

Whenever he visits his mom, they pull out the old photo album. Frankie sits quietly like a kid again listening to her soft, rapid spanish retell stories from his father’s army days. The two of them remembering his booming laughter that seemed to rattle the walls and how you could always hear where he was by his near constant chatter.

Her favorite picture is of Frankie sitting on the front stoop with father and grandfather. The two older men are smiling down at the boy, with his little ballcap, his father’s flatbrim, and grandfather’s wide fedora balanced on his small head. Frankie’s eyes are obscured, but his smile matches the mens’.

Santi:

His dad worked as a carpenter at the local theater. His mom was a dancer at there and that’s how they met. Santi spent a lot of his childhood backstage and he loved it. Getting to watch all the different acts that went on weekly and the rehearsal made him value preparation.

Most of the time, he would help his dad, who always showed him how to make things and taught him with his hands. His mom taught him dancing and movement, sometimes making him come to dance classes to help demonstrate.

His parents were like embarrassingly in love. His dad always watched every one of her performances from backstage and his mom would perch herself on top of his workbench into the earlier morning to keep him company. They danced in the living room every weekend, even though his dad was bad at it.

Santi watched from the staircase, quietly thinking about doing that with his wife one day.

His dad was SUPER into magic. Santi always tried to be cool about it, but he was always pretty mystified with the tricks. His dad taught him lots of coin tricks and he learned a lot of card tricks from books.

He doesn’t do them much. He always pulls out coin tricks with little kids because it never fails to get a smile. He used his card tricks to be a bit of a card shark in his early service days.

Sometimes, on poker nights with the guys, he’ll pull out the card tricks. Will quietly just watches, but you can tell the gears are spinning. Benny always yells, “Well goddamn!” and slaps the table laughing at least once. Frankie nods and is pretty quiet, but every few minutes for the rest of the night “So, you stacked the deck, right?” “Are the cards dog-earred?”

He’ll pickpocket Frankie at random points and waits for him to notice, sometimes hours.

“Has anyone seen my keys?”

“You mean...these?”

“Motherfucker, STOP doing that!”

Tagging: @plexflexico @mylifeliterally @catfishingmorales @softpedropascal

[thoughtsofanexcitedspacechild]

The question is inevitable. I stop wiping down the ice cream equipment and look up. For the past two years, that’s all anyone’s ever asked me. Now as I sit here, I realize that by this time next year, I’ll be preparing to move. By this time next year, the question “what do you want to study?” will be answered. The thought of growing up and going to college has always been in the back of my mind, but it always seemed far off. Now as my boss asks me the same question I’ve been asked a million times, the answer doesn’t just feel real; it feels tangible.

“I want to hopefully study something in the arts,” I reply. “I’m hoping to study to then get a job as a concept artist for movies and TV shows.”

"Well, you know art can be just a hobby, right?”

***

I’m three years old. I’m sitting at the kitchen table with white printer paper spread out all over the place. Half of the sheets are filled and the other half to go. My tongue sticks out in determined concentration as I finish what feels like my fiftieth self portrait today. I’m still not happy with how the hair looks, but I’m getting better with every one I make.

“You know art can be just a hobby, right?”

***

I’m eight years old. I wait nervously outside the classroom in the aquatic and community center for my first ever real drawing class. I wait until the door opens and file in behind the rest of my peers into the classroom. I find a spot a little further away from everyone else. Once the teacher begins instructing us on how to draw the basic construction of a horse, I immerse myself into the lecture. Soon enough my anxiety melts away as I immerse myself in the drawing. By the end, I’m not quite satisfied with how my horse looks, but I look forward to the next day. There’s still three more days of camp, and I’m ready to get even better tomorrow.

“You know art can be just a hobby, right?”

***

I’m twelve years old. I’m sitting with what feels like my entire body sunken into an overly plush floral print couch. I watch as Mrs. Scalabrino, a family friend, teaches me how to make a magic loop with the yarn and crochet hook. “I’ve been doing it all wrong! Now I finally understand!” Deb hands me the yarn and hook and urges me to try myself.

This time, instead of having the hook slip through and make a tiny slip stitch, I loop the yarn though and then pull through a final time to create a stitch.

“I did it! I was doing it wrong!”

“It looks very good! Keep going and you’ll be making full projects in no time!” I smile at her compliment and keep practicing.

By the end of the afternoon, I have a long rectangle of clumsily made single and double crochet stitches, but I don’t mind. I’m proud of my lumpy, uneven, handmade rectangle.

“You know art can be just a hobby, right?”

***

I’m thirteen years old. It’s my first time at Blue Lake Fine Arts camp, and I’m taking my first pottery class. I’m carefully carrying my freshly reglazed pot to the back room of the pottery studio after fixing it for a second time. The first time it got damaged I had dropped it after molding the structure and the second time someone else bumped into me, messing up the glaze and sgraffito pattern and glazing in multiple places. I stayed after class during my recreation time and painstakingly remolded and fixed the intricate glazing pattern.

At the end of the session art show, I’m called to the front of the crowd of visiting parents and my fellow campers. I’ve just won the Outstanding camper scholarship. My cheeks flush furiously with embarrassment, but inside I’m also elated. Even though the pot wasn’t perfect. I was still proud of it. I worked hard to save and fix the pot twice broken, and for once, that work pays off. I look out and see the faces of everyone who was with me on the journey to complete the piece, and I know that that pot will always be more than a keepsake planter.

“You know art can be just a hobby, right?”

***

I’m fifteen years old. I lay in bed before my first day of high school. I should be worried about my academic classes, and I am. I can’t stop thinking about the homework for my double paced math class and honors biology, and the more advanced reading we’ll do in honors english this year.

I console myself by thinking about the art class that I’m going to take. By chance there was a scheduling conflict with my social studies credit, and there wasn’t a spot to fit it in. I’d have to test out of the class over the summer, but that meant that I could take Art 1 instead. I stay up and wonder what it will be like. Will it be like my art classes in middle school? Will I finally be able to try oil painting? What about ceramics?

I drift off to sleep anxious, but ready to try all new mediums and make more; to be able to create amongst all the chaos that comes with advanced academic studies.

“You know art can be just a hobby, right?”

***

I’m sixteen years old. I’m almost finished with what was supposed to be my sophomore year, but because of the pandemic, quarantine has made the past month of march even more grey and dreary than normal. The trees outside droop with the heaviness of the recent freezing rain and the sky is a somber grey. I stare absentmindedly at my computer screen waiting for my last zoom meeting of the day to end.

I return to my painting once I log off of our AP Art zoom. I glare at the canvas in front of me. I hate this piece. Even the dull grey color palette outside seems more appetizing than the same oranges and blues that I’ve stared at for the past three months. It’s the feeling in the pit of the stomach when you don’t feel particularly welcome and you know something is off. The dynamic is all wrong and you infuriatingly search the faces of the people there for an answer but to no avail.

I sigh and start to reach for my paints to force myself to push through to a solution, but set them down. “There has to be another way to get through this,” I say to myself as I open my sketchbook against my better judgement. After a quick image reference search, My pencil migrates from the jar to the page. I don’t worry about making it perfect. This piece is just for me.

I sketch out the figures of the boy and girl and boy in the photo, their arms intertwined in an embrace and their lips in a gentle kiss. I make sure her thumb just skims the length of his forearm and that his hand is placed just so on her waist. I step back. We’re getting somewhere.

Long since abandoned for my previous acrylic piece, my colored pencils feel slippery and foreign in my hand. I reach for the tan and brown colored pencils to start, but the bright fuschia red catches my eye. I cautiously begin to apply it to the girl’s face and neck area. Perfect. I don’t stop until the shadows crossing the girl’s face are all shades of pink and red and the boys silhouette is coated in deep blues. What next?

My watercolor palette sits just inches from my paints. I open it and observe my options. I water down a bright pink, an ocean blue, and my untouched cake of deep purple watercolor. I haphazardly splash the pink on one side and the blue on the other, applying purple to blend the area where the two seas of paint mix. I remember an old painters trick of using salt to make cool backgrounds, and apply a generous amount. The scissors come out next, and I delicately cut the form of the girl and boy out. I paste it right on the background and let it sit under a book overnight to press.

In the morning, I observe my work. It’s not perfect. The proportions on the girl’s arm are off and I never quite managed to capture the folds on the boy’s shirt, but I smile. I love it. This is my piece. No one told me to make this. I just did. It’s for me.

My abandoned assignment sits waiting on the other side of the table. I look at it again. This time I do see what’s missing. Like I did while I was working with the pencil, I need to add more depth. That’s why I hate it. That’s why it felt flat and boring. I set my new opus aside and reach for the beaten up acrylic brushes and paint tubes.

“You know art can be just a hobby, right?”

***

The computer screen finally loads. I'm exhausted and have just returned from a missions trip to the Dominican Republic, but in my blissful sleep back in my own bed, I'd remembered that AP scores had come out while I was away. The three numbers I've waited for loom in front of me:

AP Spanish Language: 5

AP Language and Composition: 4

AP Studio Art: 4

A four.

I stare in disbelief at the screen. I'd expected a three at best. I rush to tell my parents.

“You know art can be just a hobby, right?”

***

"Yeah, I know," I respond. "But it's so much more than that to me."

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets II

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (Slow Burn)

A/n: Anything in italics are memories btw!

•••

This couldn’t be right. Nothing about it felt right. William Byers going missing didn’t sit right with you. You’d never heard of it before. And considering your family had been from Hawkins, and that your uncle was in highschool at this time in the 80’s and not an infant, you should have at least heard some mention of this, he’d remember something so traumatic for the town. Something that was broadcasted all over the news. Everyone knew about it. Harrington had brought it up to you that morning while asking if you wanted to go to a ‘party’ he was having that night, on a Tuesday evening. 

Which you’d declined. 

It didn’t settle right, that awful pit in your stomach for the middle school boy going missing. It didn’t seem right to go to a party where you knew Carol Perkins and Tommy H were just going to end up with their tongues down each other’s throats, while Steve tried to get in Nancy Wheeler’s panties. 

As your friends before would say ‘big bad vibes’ which was exactly how you could explain what you felt now. Zoning out on Steve’s conversation with Nancy, staring at the linoleum flooring, holding your math notebook, a pencil clipped to the cover. 

“Oh, God. Look.” 

You looked up to Carol, and followed her gaze to the bulletin board to see Jonathan Byers, a missing person poster in hand as he pinned it into the corkboard. 

“Oh, God, that’s depressing.” 

You wanted to chastise Harrington, you did, but you didn’t have it in you. Even though you considered each other friends, and he knew that you didn’t pull your punches in a verbal argument, but the truth was right now, was that Steve was right. It was depressing, but while it made you upset to see the sight of an older brother putting up a poster of his missing brother, it made you sick to your stomach. 

“Should we say something?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t think he speaks.” 

What you couldn’t get over was the fact that Steve was nice to you in private, when you had conversations that no one else was involved in, but when his friends were there, he acted like a douche, like the highschool cliche, as if he was trying to fit a mold that had been made for plaster. 

Rich, good looking, not particularly good in school, and from what you saw, no real friends to lean on. You’d seen it before. It happened in your own highschool. The rich boy with good hair and eyes trying to be what everyone else wanted out of him. 

“How much do you wanna bet he killed him?” Tommy asked, making you turn your head to look up, seeing Steve bring an arm up and give Tommy’s chest a shove. 

“Shut up.” That was a hint of the Steve Harrington he’d shown you the few times. You were sure he was trying to find what mold everyone and you would put out to be filled, but you wouldn’t do that. You’d let him wiggle out of his infamous one and split in two as he fell to the ground. 

That’s what separates you and your dad, he always saw the good in things, but you were always suspicious of people, even the ones you considered friends. 

“Dude, that’s not cool. His brother’s missing.” You snapped, getting a look from the older boy. They were all slightly older than you. You were a Freshman, they were mostly Juniors, except for Nancy and Barbara, who were only a year older than you. 

You watched Nancy go over and speak with Jonathan while you stood awkwardly ahead of Steve, facing the pair at the bulletin board. Something your high school didn’t have. For yet another safety reason regarding students being idiots before you’d even gotten to high school. 

“You know him?” Steve questioned leaning forward to ask you as quietly as he could without people passing by hearing. 

“Better than any of you ever will.” You responded simply. It got a scoff out of Steve as Nancy came walking back.

You felt Carol’s hand on your shoulder as she tried to get you to walk with them as the bell rang and they all began to get to class. And you did take a small, uncertain step backwards as she released you when Tommy wrapped an arm around her shoulders. You gave Jonathan a small wave and sad smile as you went to turn around. But something in you compelled you to turn around. And when you did, you saw him heading for the exit. 

You sighed a bit, your first reaction to be going after him. “Jonathan!” You exclaimed as lowly as you could to get his attention. And it worked right as he reached the steel doors. “Where we going?” 

“What?” He inquired, brows furrowed, looking down on you, hand on the push bar of the door. 

“I said ‘where we going’ do you wanna hear it in French? I took three years of french in middle school, and Mrs. Valois is my foreign language teacher, I could give you a spot on translation.” You were forced into taking a foreign language in middle school, and instead of Spanish you chose French, and you’d learned some off Duo-lingo for the past five years, so the truth was, you were almost fluent. 

“What- wait, no. We’re not going anywhere. You have to go to…” He trailed off a bit, eyes going to your notebook which had ‘math’ angrily scribbled in large font into the front and back. “Mr. Jensen’s?” 

You gave a harsh sigh through your nose and held your arm out with the notebook in hand, dropping it on the floor. “Like I said, where we going? This is about your brother, right?”

It was Jonathan’s turn to give a sigh as he  eyed you for a second, and you could practically see the gears shifting in his head. “Why?”

“We have a common interest-”

“Out history project doesn’t have anything to do with this-”

“This isn’t about Romeo and Juliet, idiot. This is about Will. Just… Everything about it, makes me feel weird, and I need to see him come back home, alive. See? Common interest.”

“We’re going to Indianapolis. But you stay out of it, okay? Like that one saying.”

You quirked up an eyebrow staring him down for a moment. “Girls should be seen and not heard?” You’d heard it before from an older male teacher, and when you told your dads about it, they’d called the school.

“What? No, that’d be mean. Keep your mouth shut, and stay out of trouble.” 

A smile etched it’s way onto your face, because you knew that saying very well, and he’d said it the way you’d always heard it, with a bit of a smile, but a hint of sincerity behind it. 

•••

“So, what’s in Indianapolis?” It was awkward sitting in the front seat of a car most of your friends would say looked almost archaic, even though it couldn’t be more than 10 years old in the time era you were in now, and with someone who was close, yet so far away.

“Lonnie.” 

“Who?” 

Jonathan looked at you quickly before back at the road. “Wow, you really are new to Hawkins.” It was a mumble but you heard it. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Look, Lonnie’s our dad, he and my mom went through a bad divorce a year ago. Everyone knows about it. “

It sounded familiar, the way he spoke about the stranger, who’s name you’ve never even heard of before to belong to a man. You’d heard it used for a girl as a nickname before. 

You were about to say something, but before you could a new song came on the radio that made your face fall. You’d known it all your life, and you knew the lyrics by heart, and everytime you heard the guitar, a smile would come to your face. But this was the first time it hadn’t. 

•••

The unfamiliar lyrics played from the living room, which had you up from your nap and clumsily walking to the main room of the home in your onesie. “Daddy?” You called, rubbing your eyes that were still a bit blurry with the sleepiness that plagued them. 

From the archway that connected the kitchen and the living room, your dad peaked his head out, a smile coming onto his face when he saw you standing there, hair strewn about and a confused look on your face. 

“Hey, baby.” He said softly, placing a box of macaroni down on the counter that was hidden behind the wall before walking the short three meters to where you stood. “What’s got you out of bed?” He kneeled down, calves tucked under his thighs as he got down to your level, hands holding you up. 

You gave a lazy shrug. You’d been awake since before the song had come on, the loud music being something you’d been accustomed to since infancy, something that never stopped you from falling asleep. “Dunno. I like song.” You were three, you couldn’t pronounce absolutely everything yet. 

An even bigger smile coming across his face. “Yeah?” It got an eager nod out of you as he picked you up. 

“Should I stay or should I go?” He sang along with the lyrics which got a pout out of you at the idea of your dad leaving, your developing brain having a surge of worry as you threw your arms around his neck, holding him close.

“Stay!” You insisted. He nodded against your shoulder, bouncing you along to the music as he made his way back to the kitchen.

“I’m always gonna be there, baby.” He comforted, his hand rubbing your back in circles, sensing the unreasonable thoughts of his toddler. “You got me?” He asked, pulling back to look at you. You gave a small nod, as he laid a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s make some lunch, yeah?”

•••

“Hey!” 

“Oh, yikes.” You muttered as Jonathan blew past the woman who had answered the door and into the house, you entering the home with more manners than he had. But then again, you weren’t the one whose brother was mising. “Jonathan-”

“Hey, Will?” You followed him into the hall, “Will? Will, you here?” You heard the banging on a cheep wooden door as you looked down the hallway seeing him slamming his palm against a door. You walked over as he peered into the open room across from the door, only to have him turn around and move past you. 

“Jonathan-” You tried again as he moved back down the hall before a stranger came out of no where, slamming Jonathan into a wall. “Woah, hey!” You shouted in surprise.

“Get off!” Jonathan told the older man, pushing him off, making his back thud against the other wall. The hallway was slim.

“Damn, you’ve gotten stronger.” THe man who you assumed was Lonnie gave a shove into Jonathan’s chest. 

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?” The woman demanded. 

Lonnie introduced his oldest son to his girlfriend without much emotion behind it. “Who’s this little lady?” 

“Hmm, no. Don’t call me that.” You said uncomfortably, shaking your head and grimacing a little bit at his words.

You’d done what Jonathan had asked of you, staying quiet as you tagged along, watching as Lonnie allowed him to practically tear the house apart, if it wasn’t already. The house had no reason to look like that when both of them appeared to be home most of the time, and clearly had no children that lived in the house. It struck you as lazy. 

But while you listened to the father and son go back and forth, Lonnie practically blaming Joyce for Will going missing, which made you mad. Maybe it was because you had two dads growing up, but the idea of a father not showing interest in his missing 12 year old boy, and instead placing the blame on his ex-wife made you angry. You knew that you had to be missing in your time too, and that both of your dads were freaking out. Even though one could be a hardass sometimes. He was the one who gave you tough love, but he did truly love you just as much as your biological dad did, and cared just as much.

“In case you forgot what he looks like.” Jonathan had a knack for throwing attitude to people, you learned that awhile ago, but seeing him shove the missing person poster into his father’s chest was a new level you’d never really seen. 

You stayed in place for a moment, staring at Lonnie as he looked down at the poster. “Maybe instead of blaming the mother of your children for one kid going missing, you could at least act worried. Compassion or empathy, ya know? You ever tried it?” But you didn’t give him time to answer, following after Jonathan back to his car. 

“Jonathan, wait up-”

“Why? Why do you care? Huh? You moved here two months ago and you care more about me and my brother than he does!” It was clear that Jonathan was angry with his father, with the hand gesture he made towards the run down house.

You gave him an empathetic look, but one mixed with sadness as you looked down at the pavement of the street. Because you knew if you ever told him he wouldn’t believe you. “You’d think I’m crazy.” You said quietly, the drizzle slowly soaking into the t-shirt you wore. “Please just believe me when I say that I care about your brother, and you, and your mom. A lot more than you think.”

•••

The familiar and boring scenery passed by, with you in the passenger seat, and your dad in the driver’s seat, your friend in the back seat with your younger brother. She’d asked for a ride to school. But things were tense inside the Chevy that was owned by your dads. 

You were frustrated with everything, school sucked, you could never keep anything above a B-, and when you tried the grade always slipped to a D or lower. You felt like a disappointment. And you’d openly said it as a self deprecating joke that made both of the men in your life look at you in shock. But while Pa had gotten frustrated with your sense of humor, Dad looked upset. Not angry, but almost in tears upset. And your brother had laughed and agreed. 

“It’s okay to admit that I’m one hell of an expensive disappointment” You’d said it with a bright smile.

So things were awkward, he hadn’t spoken since he agreed to pick up Amanda. And everytime you snuck a quick glance, he looked even more upset. You didn’t understand why. It had for all intents and purposes, it’d been a joke. 

But you’d sat in the awkward silence in the front seats while your dad dropped your brother off, before driving to the highschool up the hill. And when you finally arrived in the parking lot, you’d grabbed your bag, but his hand stopped you, gentle fingers wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from picking up the backpack from the floorboard between your feet. 

“Amanda, could you give us a minute?” He asked turning to look back at the girl who was slightly older than you. You could see her nod in the rear view mirror, stepping out of the car and beginning to walk up to the school’s doors. 

“Y/n, look at me.” It was almost pleading. But you did look up at him. Eyes similar to your own. 

“What?” You questioned, brows furrowed like his own. The way that the both of you did when you were upset. 

“You’re not a disappointment. You know that right?” He questioned, a hand  going up to hold the side of your head, but you looked away, his hand landing on the back of your skull. “Y/n-”

“Stop, just stop. Okay, I am one. I can’t get above a B, I’m not smart like you, and that’s not fair, I have half of your DNA and I can’t seem to get anything right! I can’t get my grades right, I can’t get boys right, I can’t get any of it. I don’t get math, or science!” It was an incoming breakdown in the parking lot of your highschool, where plenty of students could walk by after getting dropped off and see you close to tears. 

He grabbed your hand and sighed while you threw your torso back into the seat, letting him hold your hand but not putting any effort into it.

 “I wanna be more like you.” 

You heard him chuckle a bit which made you look at him, almost offended as his chuckling turned into laughter. 

“It’s not funny!”

But he only kept laughing while you stared. “You are like me.” He laughed, looking at you again. “You talk like me, do the same weird things I do. You like a lot of the same things I did when I was your age. So what if you get B’s in most of your classes? I don’t care if you like science or math like I do. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my kid. And I will always be proud of who you are. We’re both good at art, that’s something right? You’re not a disappointment. Expensive, yes.” That got a chuckle out of you. “But you are in no way a disappointment. We tried so hard to have you, and we can be disappointed in some of the things you do, but never with you as a whole.” He held your head, a smile on his face as he looked down at you. “Now, go kick some ass.” 

A laugh broke through your lips as you nodded, picking your bag up and getting out of the car. “Remind me what your name is?” He asked, leaning over the center console to look at you through the opened window. 

You smiled. “Y/n L/n Byers.” He nodded with an equally large smile on his face. 

“Byers don't give up. Go kick some ass.”

•••

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