#when i was little i attended piano classes in school. for two years i believe. but then all of the musical teachers were fired

[picory]

i want. to learn an instrumence... so badly

[jungle-angel]

A Boy And His Critters (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob think your oldest child might be an animal whisperer

Warnings: Mentions of birth, pregnancy, cuteness overload etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @withahappyrefrain @bobfloydsbabe

It was late in the afternoon in early spring, on a day when the hawthorn trees in your yard had just begun to bud and flower. Your birdfeeder already had more than enough visitors, your three cats, Freya, Thor and Pumpkin, having eyed them from the living room window. Already there had been fifteen calf births within the last two days with Bob, his father and his brothers and sisters having to wake at some ungodly hour to help with the births.

You were in the living room of your home in Montana, the soft Disney piano music playing from the speaker on your laptop. Bob lay on the spread out quilt on the living room floor, one pillow under his head and the other under his tummy while he gently rocked Baby Rudy in his little baby hammock. The sun streamed through the windows as you sat close to your husband and baby, the other three outside with their grandparents or aunts and uncles while you were busy carding the freshly shorn sheep's wool from the week before. You set aside your brushes and quickly took a snapshot of the sweet sight, hoping to add it to the photo album later.

You heard a loud meow and felt that familiar bushy tail brushing against you, looking down to find Thor rubbing against you. "You need a good brushing," you chuckled, teasing him with the carding combs.

"S'it the cat again?" Bob mumbled with a yawn.

"Yep," you answered, getting back to your work. "Rudy asleep?"

"Mmmhmm," Bob answered. "M'gonna go see if Dad needs help and come back for a nap."

Bob rose from his spot and kissed you before heading out to the barn to see if his father needed any help. "Hey sleepyhead!" the older Floyd greeted, tipping his black cowboy hat a little.

"Hey Dad," Bob answered sleepily. "Everything good?"

"Yeah everything's lookin good," Joe answered. "The hands have it all down so we don't have to worry until the spring auction. The baby go to sleep?"

"Just went down for a nap," Bob yawned. "I think I might too, my eyes are starting to itch."

Bob and his father conversed back and forth, totally unaware at first of the clanking of a metal bucket and the hurried footsteps of five year old Auggie.

"Bud?" Bob asked when he finally saw. "Whatcha doin?"

"Nothin Daddy," Auggie chirped.

"Doesn't look like nothin," Joe chuckled.

"I gotta go milk the cows, Papa!" Auggie announced.

Joe and Bob were humored to say the least, more so when they saw Smokey, the crotchety old rooster weaving his way in and out from between Auggie's legs. They followed behind him to make sure he didn't get into trouble, when he approached the female dairy cow that Joe and Irene had taken in, singing in his chirpy little voice, one of the farm songs he had learned in his kindergarten class at the so-called "hippie school" he attended with the other Dagger children.

"Holy shit," Joe chuckled. "Get a load of this Bobby."

Bob was thunderstruck when he saw the old bat following Auggie into the barn with Smokey still clucking away between his little cowboy boots. Normally it would take two or three of the hands to lead her in, but here was Auggie, five years old and barely up to his father's hips, leading her into the stall with no issues.

"Un......believable," Bob laughed.

"How the fuck does this kid do it?" Joe wondered out loud, a broad smile on his face at the sight of his grandson.

Bob quickly pulled out his phone and began recording, hoping to be able to show the others when they had a chance to come by. Auggie chirped away as he milked the cow until a startled moo came from her.

"Sorry Peach, but that's what Daddy does to Mommy and it works."

Bob stifled a squawk in his throat but not before Auggie began yelling at him in his best Shrek voice.

"AYE! GET OUT ME FUCKIN SWAMP!!!!!"

"August Robert!" Bob laughed.

Auggie hurried over but Bob was in too good a mood to discipline his son. "Sorry for using a dirty word, Daddy," he apologized.

Bob picked his son up and kissed his cheek, Auggie's glasses falling slightly off the bridge of his nose. "I'm glad you said sorry, but Daddy should remember the rule the he and Mommy put into place."

When Bob was able to go back inside, he showed you the video including the one of Auggie's Shrek impression.

"You'd think he was an animal whisperer by the way Smokey follows him around," you laughed.

"Sometimes I like to think so sweetheart," Bob yawned as he lay on the couch.

You set aside your carding combs and the wool, covering Bob with the spring quilt and snuggling in beside him, the two of you proud as ever of Auggie.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

I just finished reading all of MrsCriss2012's works (I am completely devastated there's no new ones). Do you have any recommendations for authors/works similar to hers?

From a similar ask from January 2021 (which I can't tag) but Lynne recommended the age!gap tag, or these: ~Jen

Off Limits by munchkinpandas

For once in Blaine Anderson’s life he was pretty happy with how his life was going. He had an epic college experience with his best friend Jamie. They partied way too much, studied way too little and slept with their fair share of the best ASU had to offer. But one rejection letter later and Jamie was moving to San Diego to pursue his PHD while Blaine got accepted to the doctorate program at their Alma Mater. ASU without Jamie didn’t make sense to Blaine and he was not happy about it. To top everything off Jamie asked Blaine to look after his little brother Kurt who was starting his freshman year of college. Kurt wasn’t the little kid he pictured when Jamie asked Blaine to let him move in and it was clear things were about to change even more than Blaine had expected. In short, Blaine Anderson was screwed.

~~~~~

Pressed against the Glass by @gleefulpoppet

Is it possible that the most extraordinary love story ever told starts on a chilly October morning in New York with an impromptu twirl and an elbow to a stranger’s face? Kurt wouldn’t have thought so, but when it happens, his heart stops. It’s just one touch, but is that all it takes to believe? Should he take a chance and never look back? But what happens when the stranger runs away, even though he finally feels complete and brought to life? Is it just a dream—or will he let his walls come down? Will they live with regrets or find the love that will make them feel young forever?

AKA: The one about soulmates (by choice) and the italicized Oh.

~~~~~

Bite Your Lip, Pull me In by rayychelinfinity

Age difference: Blaine is 40, Kurt is 19, and this is the story of how a chance meeting between a successful businessman and a struggling young intern blossoms into something wonderfully unexpected.

~~~~~

Or MrsCriss2012 writes teacher/student relationships:

In The Key Of Us by  beautifulwhatsyourhurry

Kurt Hummel has an instant crush on the new English teacher, Mr. Anderson, at WMHS his senior year. Trouble is, Mr. Anderson might just have a thing for Kurt as well. How will they deal with the mutual attraction when Mr. Anderson offers to give Kurt piano lessons in his home, outside of school?

~~~~~

Consonance and Dissonance Verse by @whenidance

AU in which Blaine is four years older than Kurt and therefore they never meet at Dalton. Kurt ends up at OSU instead of in NYC, where Blaine is a grad-student-turned-professor, and also the object of Kurt’s crushing his sophomore and junior years. [Warnings: Student/Teacher relationship (both over the age of 18)]

~~~~~

Of Love And Literature by @star55

When Kurt Hummel started his senior year at Dalton Academy for Boys, he expected it to be normal. He would attend class, get good grades and graduate, all while being subjected to his two best friends being absolutely smitten with each other. He didn’t expect, however, to fall in love with his English teacher.

~~~~~

Walk The Line by canarian

AU where Blaine, who is 4 years older than Kurt and fresh out of college, comes to teach at McKinley. When Schue gets fired, Kurt asks Blaine to coach New Directions, but things get complicated when they discover their mutual attraction.

[gtunesmiff]

How Writing Is Like Playing the Violin

Gabriela Pereira || DIYMFA

I have played the violin since I was four years old, and my son and daughter play piano and violin respectively. They both go to a Suzuki music school—the same school I attended from ages 4-18. In fact, my daughter’s violin teacher was my orchestra conductor and chamber music coach when I was a teen.

All of this means that I have a tendency to view the world through a Suzuki lens, an outlook that centers on incremental practice over progress made by leaps and bounds. This perspective is also especially useful when it comes to writing.

We all know full well that no one can write a book in a day. It takes time and continuous persistence. There’s no glamorous solution.

Rather, we just have to show up at the page on a regular basis and clock in the hours. It’s that simple.

And yet, there are a lot of sources out there that glamorize the “overnight success” approach to writing. This attitude is best summed up by an episode that happened in my traditional MFA program. One time in workshop, a writer whose story was on deck for critique said to the class: “I wanted to apologize in advance for any typos. I just threw this piece together on my phone, while standing in line at a movie theater last weekend.”

I’ll be honest, the possibility of typos was not the thing that concerned me about this writer’s statement. What bothered me most was the attitude, as though this writer was bragging about how little time they had spent on their submission. It was as if their goal wasn’t to write something good, but rather to write something with as little effort as possible.

This kind of attitude is dangerous because it lulls us into believing that writing should be “easy,” and if it’s not, then there must be something wrong with us. Let me make one thing very clear: the problem is not with us.

Now, don’t confuse writing fast with writing easily. Personally, I happen to be a naturally fast writer. Once I get an idea of what I want to say, it tends to pour out of me fairly quickly. Similar to other writers, I know many individuals who are like this with their fiction and can crank out multiple books a year at a furious pace.

Build speed and stamina through practice.

The speed at which we write has nothing to do with the ease with which we write. Just because I tend to write fast doesn’t mean that the process is “easy” for me. People who see me crank out words so quickly might think that all writing should be a snap.

What they don’t see are the years of practice that got me to the point where I write at this pace, the countless hours before I put pen to page, or when the ideas needed to incubate and take shape in my mind.

Speed and ease are two very different things. The speed at which we write and the quality of the words we produce, these things come with practice. Ease, on the other hand, is a fickle beast. Some days it might feel like words just flow out of you, while on other days, each syllable can be a slog.

This is where persistent, incremental practice can be a game changer. We have to train ourselves to produce words—whether we “feel like it” or not. We have to practice showing up to the page, regardless of whether the writing comes easily.

This reminds me of something I learned practicing the violin with my daughter. I’m not going to lie, the past five years of violin have been brutal. Lady Bug is a strong-willed girl and when she decides she’s not going to practice, no amount of cajoling, begging, arguing, or even threatening will get her to do it. If she weren’t so darn talented, we probably would have let her quit ages ago, but when she picks up the instrument, it’s like it was made for her.

The trick, of course, is getting her to pick up the instrument in the first place.

In the beginning, when she would blatantly refuse to practice, the teacher suggested a strategy. “Just have her open the box. Don’t make her pick up the violin or the bow. Just open the box and leave it there on the floor.” The idea was not to attach any expectations to the practice, but to get her used to the idea of opening the box. Eventually, curiosity would win out and she would pick up the violin and try to practice. (I wish I could say this strategy worked every time. It didn’t. But it worked enough that we kept at it.)

Normalize the practice.

We can use a similar strategy with our writing, especially when the writing feels like a challenge. Boot up the computer or pull out the notebook and pen, then just sit and wait. Don’t attach any expectations as to whether it will be a productive writing day or not.

Just show up and see what happens.

When we practice showing up, we lower the barrier to entry. We normalize the process and the practice. For example, at this stage, my kids practice their instruments because it’s just something we do in our family. Everyone plays an instrument.

Everyone practices. It’s our version of normal. As writers, we need to do the same thing: we need to normalize the practice of writing, and make it “just something we do” rather than turning it into a big deal.

Right now, many writers are gearing up for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), a challenge where you try to write 50,000 words of a novel in the month of November. What I love about this challenge is that it forces you to show up and write, whether you feel like it or not. With such a tight timeline, there’s no room for dawdling or taking the day off. You have to pour those words onto the page one way or another. For many writers, this challenge is the spark that lights the fire under their backsides and gets them to write that book once and for all.

My one small concern with challenges like this is that there is no room for granting ourselves grace and showing up without expectation. Yes, you have to show up with these challenges, but you also have to produce something and sometimes that’s not in the cards. Just like some days you open the box and don’t pick up the violin, sometimes the writing is just plain hard and no matter what you try, nothing comes out. This is why I myself have never done this challenge in earnest. The few times I tried, I buckled under the pressure to produce and gave up within a few days.

If you are diving into the challenge, I tip my hat to you. While I myself have never gotten past the first few days, I have tremendous admiration for folks who are able to get to the finish line. It is an impressive feat, to be sure.

If you aren’t doing the challenge, I want to propose a low-impact alternative. For the month of November, practice opening the box. Show up at the computer and give yourself ten minutes. If no words come, then consider your time clocked in and go about the rest of your day. Chances are, though, after a few days of showing up, the words will eventually start to flow.

Remember, practice is not about rote repetition.

When I think of practice, I think of a meditation practice or a yoga practice, where 90% of the work is showing up and being present. Let’s make this November the month where we show up for ourselves and for our writing.

[pokefanbri]

Taken from Facebook, as a suggested post by Troy Taylor. I found it intriguing.

THE MYSTERY OF PEARL CURRAN

On February 15, 1883, Pearl Curran was born in Mound City, Illinois. Until the age of 30, Pearl lived a very ordinary life. She played the piano, read magazines, went out to dinner with her husband, and enjoyed going to the theater. And then something happened that changed her life forever – a single incident with a Ouija board that allowed her to make contact with a spirit called Patience Worth. The collaboration between the two women – one living, and one dead – would create a mystery that has never been solved.

Before the strange events that began in 1913, Pearl Curran had no interest in the occult.

She was born Pearl Leonore Pollard in Mound City, Illinois, on February 15, 1883. Her father was a railroad worker and, sometimes, a newspaperman. She grew up in Texas, playing outdoors and exploring the countryside. Her parents -- George and Mary – were quiet, unassuming people. They never demanded much from Pearl, which made her an indifferent student. She left school after the eighth grade and moved to Chicago to study music. She lived with her uncle there and often played piano at his storefront Spiritualist church. Her uncle was a believer and a spirit medium, but Pearl had no interest in ghosts, or religion. She had attended Sunday School as a child but was disinterested in church and never read the Bible.

In fact, she never really read much of anything at all. She had enjoyed some of the popular children’s books of the day – like Black Beauty and Little Women – and was entertained by fairy tales, but with so little education, she never developed a love for reading. She certainly was not a writer. Her only creative outlet was playing the piano. As a girl, she dreamed of acting on stage, but gave up that idea when she married John Curran – a widower with a teenage daughter – when she was 24-years-old.

Her marriage was happy, but as uneventful as her childhood had been. The Currans were not wealthy, but John made a comfortable living. Pearl took care of their home, although she had a maid to take care of most of the household chores. They were a social couple. They enjoyed dining in restaurants, going to the theater, and getting together with friends and neighbors for drinks and to play cards in the evening. John and Pearl seldom read anything, aside from the daily newspaper or a magazine. They lived a simple life. They were happy, though, content in their middle-class apartment on Kingsbury Avenue with their family, friends, and acquaintances.

They could have never imagined the changes that were coming to their lives.

Most of John and Pearl’s friends were much like they were – ordinary folks who lived a quiet, suburban life in St. Louis – but Pearl did have one friend with literary connections. Her name was Emily Grant Hutchings and her poetry and fiction had appeared in many . magazines and in newspapers. Emily was also a Spiritualist and a casual visit with Pearl on July 8, 1913, was going to change her friend’s life forever.

On that hot summer evening, Emily brought came over for cocktails and brought a Ouija board with her. Pearl had seen talking boards before – she even admitted to experimenting with one with her uncle – but they held little interest for her. It was, she said, a boring and silly pastime. Before July 8, she had never seen the pointer spell out anything but gibberish.

But this time was different.

Pearl and Emily placed their hands lightly on the Ouija board’s planchette. Pearl’s mother, Mary, was visiting and she sat next to the two women with a pencil and paper, ready to write down any messages that might be spelled out. To their surprise, the message that came through was not gibberish. It made perfect sense and it read:

"Many moons ago, I lived. Again, I come. Patience Worth is my name."

The three women were startled. Even Emily, a dedicated Spiritualist, had never seen a message quite like that before. Who was Patience Worth? Was she a real person? Pearl was the most skeptical of the three – she sincerely doubted that the dead could make contact with the living using a wooden toy. But Emily urged her to try again. So, Pearl asked the sender of the message to tell them something about herself. In moments, the replies began to come. The planchette moved furiously around the talking board, telling a strange story.

According to the spirit, Patience Worth, she had lived in Dorsetshire, England, in either 1649 or 1694 – the planchette gave both dates – and she passed on messages using old words like “thee” and “thou.” Sometimes, she refused to answer their questions directly. But with more urging, the spirit went on. She claimed to have been an unmarried woman who had emigrated to America, where she was murdered by Indians on Nantucket Island.

The initial contact with Patience Worth occurred when Pearl and Emily were both using the Ouija board. However, it soon became evident that Pearl was the one responsible for the contact because, no matter who sat with her, the messages from Patience would come only if Pearl had her hands on the planchette.

That was spooky enough by itself. The messages that kept coming were even spookier.

Pearl became fascinated with the messages and began devoting more and more time to the Ouija board. Soon, the messages began coming through so fast that no one could transcribe them. And then Pearl realized that she didn’t need the Ouija board anymore – the sentences were forming in her mind at the same time they were being spelled out on the board. Now, she began to dictate the messages from Patience to anyone who could write them down. She hired a secretary to transcribe what Patience told her, but later, she recorded the words herself, using first a pencil, then a typewriter.

For the next 25 years, Patience Worth dictated hundreds of thousands of words their Pearl Curran. Her works were vast and were not only personal messages, but creative writing that including nearly 5,000 poems, a play, many short works, and several novels that were published to critical acclaim.

All of it written by a ghost.

Not long after Patience appeared, the Curran home began to overflow with friends, neighbors, and curiosity-seekers. People arrived from all over the country. The Currans, always gracious and unpretentious, welcomed anyone who wanted to witness the sessions when Pearl received information from Patience. The curious were followed by authorities in the field of psychic investigation and the Spiritualists, all anxious to see if the messages were evidence of contact with the other side. The Currans never charged admission, and each writing session was conducted openly. There were no spooky seances, candles, or darkened rooms. John Curran was usually in the next room with his friends, smoking cigars and playing pinochle. Patience Worth Curran – the baby girl that John and Pearl adopted in 1916 – would be playing with her toys. There was usually food and drinks and guests were encouraged to help themselves.

All of this would be happening while Pearl sat in the brightly-lit living room with her notebook or typewriter, waiting for messages from Patience. When they came through, she would begin to write.

Patience produced thousands of poems. She also produced full-length books -- using details of life in medieval England, of Palestine at the time of Christ – filled with objects, places, languages, clothing, and more that there’s no logical way Pearl could have known. It all seemed impossible, and yet it was being done – either by a housewife with an eighth-grade education, or by a ghost.

As the popularity of Patience Worth spread, there were just as many people who were amazed by her presence as there were those who doubted she existed at all. Critics simply refused to believe that contact with the ghost writer was possible. The whole thing had to be an elaborate hoax. For her part, Patience didn’t really care. She didn’t do much to convince people that she had really lived – and died. Supporters only offered the poems, books, and stories she wrote as evidence of the supernatural.

But many still refused to be convinced. Or at least they wanted more evidence than her supernatural writing output could offer. They often made requests of Patience to try and test her. She never hesitated when she answered their questions – through Pearl, of course – or when she responded to the tasks they came up with. When asked to compose a poem on a certain subject, she would deliver the stanzas so quickly that they had to be taken down in shorthand. Weeks later, when asked to reproduce the poem, she could do so without any changes or errors.

One night, author and psychical investigator Walter Franklin Prince – a regular visitor at the Curran home – posed an unusual task for Patience. He requested that she deliver a poem about the “folly of being an atheist,” while simultaneously producing a monologue that might occur between a wench and a jester at a medieval fair. He also asked that she alternate the dialogue between the two tasks every two or three lines.

Not only did Patience accomplish this, but she did it within eight seconds of the request. When she was finished, Pearl said that she felt as if her head had been placed in a steel vise.

It should come as no surprise that Pearl’s life was forever changed by the arrival of Patience Worth. Pearl often called her alliance with her spirit a wondrous affair, but it demanded a lot from her, both physically and mentally. She never allowed herself to become obsessed with Patience – she always took time for herself, her friends, and her family – and she and John never attempted to exploit the partnership for material gain. Aside from the sales of Patience’s books and stories, the Currans never charged admission to witness the writing sessions and tried to continue living the same life that they always had. Pearl continued, with help from her maid, to do all her own shopping, cooking, and housework and she continued to visit with friends as she had always done.

Later, Pearl tried to produce some stories of her own, but they were terrible. Two of them ended up being published in a magazine, but more for the novelty of their source, rather than for their content. Patience was tolerant, although condescending, about Pearls’ abilities. This created a sort of love-hate relationship between them. Patience was often irritated with Pearl, but never failed to show her kindness. She simply seemed to think that her human counterpart was slightly stupid and that only by perseverance was she able to make herself understood, especially when Pearl failed to grasp the spellings and meanings of certain words. There were many occasions when she ended a session in frustration.

But the two plodded along together – amassing a great body of work – until about 1922.

That year, the connection between them began to deteriorate. It was largely because of the many changes in Pearl’s life that occurred at that time. Pearl became pregnant for the first time at age 39. Then, John Curran passed away, leaving Pearl to give birth to a daughter, six months after his death. A short time later, Pearl’s mother also passed away and the contact between Pearl and Patience eventually faded away.

By then, public interest in the mystery had also faded – especially since no solution had ever been found as to how Pearl had accomplished her remarkable feats. The Roaring 20’s had moved America into the modern age and suddenly Pearl Curran and her Puritan ghost seemed stodgy and old-fashioned. After the publication of several books and hundreds of poems, interest in Patience Worth was replaced by cynicism. Debunkers accused Pearl of hiding her literary talent, so she could exploit it in such a bizarre way and become famous.

Was this the case? Exhaustive studies have shown this to be highly unlikely, if not impossible. Scholars have analyzed Patience’s work and have found it to be accurate in historical detail and written in such a way that only someone with an intimate knowledge of the time could have created it.

Pearl died of pneumonia in California on December 4, 1937. Whatever the secret of the mysterious ghost writer, she took it with her to the grave, leaving a fantastic mystery in her wake.

What really happened in what is one of the great St. Louis mysteries of all time? Did a spirit really speak through Pearl Curran from beyond the grave? Or did Pearl come up with all those writings on her own?

History has failed to provide answers. There were several women named Patience Worth who were listed on passenger logs of sailing ships that came to America in the seventeenth century – and yet no evidence that any of them were the Patience Worth who spoke through Pearl. But experts who studied Pearl doubted that she could have produced the words attributed to Patience on her own. She was a women of limited education, with no natural writing ability, no knowledge of the language used, or of the history and subject matter that was written about by Patience Worth.

Simply put, Pearl could not have created such works of literary quality on her own.

But someone did.

Could Patience have been created from Pearl’s unconscious mind? Was she Pearl’s secondary personality – one that had been unknowingly created by her, somehow amassing the vast knowledge that was needed to produce the allegedly unearthly messages?

This too seems unlikely because in the rare occasions when secondary personalities have been documented, they have always been shown to take over the main personality for a time. This was not true in Pearl’s case. Her personality co-existed with that of Patience Worth – whether she was real or not – and Pearl was aware of that fact.

So, what did happen in St. Louis in 1913? Was this a true case of afterlife communication, or was this the greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the literary and Spiritualist communities? We will never know for sure.

It seems we have, as Sherlock Holmes advised, attempted to eliminate the impossible in this case so that we can be left with – however improbable – the truth. But what if the truth also seems to be impossible? To believe in this story, we have to believe in the idea that a ghost named Patience Worth managed to write books, poems, and stories through the physical hand of Pearl Curran.

Seems impossible, doesn’t it? Or maybe not.

I guess that we’ll have to leave the possibility of this story up to you to decide.

I believe that automatic writing is a tool to contact the spirit realm mainly because I can do it, I know it. I've had "schizophrenia" for 15 years of my life,going through alot at the time with everything piled up, but it started by experimenting with a lose pen on my hand, a notebook, & being really high on weed 😅 it does help open your 3rd eye & I was dumbass opened a doorway that really wasn't good I thought I was going mad, I messed with something I shouldn't have & I ended up in the hospital for 2 weeks, they put me on meds that made me gain weight, I had to stop working & going to class, build my life back up more times that I can count while trying to keep it together. The things that I started hearing, I became more sensitive & empathetic to my surroundings, it just started getting worse. Doctors connect using marijuana & schizophrenic behavior in most diagnosis. Schizophrenia & psychic connection can be easily confused. Since the incident I've self taught myself to control it, be more positive. God brought me through it & I'm just trying to focus on tasks at hand at this point in my life, they are in the back of my mind but always resonating. I still use automatic writing today but only if I need to because I've gotten to the point where I can hear them & differentiate who is who, my friends & family on the other side watching out for me, I've even spoken to Jesus himself ✝️ I must be doing something right because I see more light, especially where I am now. With time I'm getting better & practice makes perfect, I feel like it's my super power & I want to do good with it some day, now that's a dream -Bri

[demon-mortician]

1.

─ OC Profile ─ Tomoky Masamune

“I believe that you should fear the living more than the death…”

─ INFO ──────

【Ｎａｍｅ：】

— Tomoky Evangeline Masamune

— Evangeline- (Description missing.)

— "Evangeline" comes from the Spanish word "Evangelio" and means "Good news".

【Ａｌｉａｓ：】

— Tommy | Evan

【Ｂｉｒｔｈｄａｙ：】

— March 14

【Ｚｏｄｉａｃ　Ｓｉｇｎ：】

— Pisces

【��ｇｅ：】

— 18

【Ｓｐｅｃｉｅｓ：】

— Human?

【Ｅｔｈｎｉｃｉｔｙ：】

— Russian: Tomoky's Paternal side of her family came to Japan from Russia due to work reasons, they then settled in the asian country and decided to stay.

— Japanese: Even though she's legally half russian, Tomoky has lived most of her life in Japan, and has rarely visited Russia some times in her life.

【Ｂｌｏｏｄ　Ｔｙｐｅ：】

— O: Or "Rakkanshugi", talks about an optimistic, outgoing and strong-willed person, also known for their leadership abilities.

【Ｈｅｉｇｈｔ：】

— 5’3’’ | 162cm

【Ｗｅｉｇｈｔ：】

— 52KG | 114LBS

【Ｇｅｎｄｅｒ：】

— Female

【Ｓｅｘｕａｌｉｔｙ：】

— Bisexual (but mostly goes for the male gender)

【Ａｐｐｅａｒａｎｃｅ：】

— Tomoky is a petite girl with chubby cheeks and big round eyes, which are purple and dark blue, her hair is slightly wavy and short, just above her shoulders in length, also showing a cute dark blue color. She doesn’t have big breasts but does have some interesting hips and thighs.

— Usually Tomoky wears a simple white button shirt, beige sweater, with a brown tabled skirt, a pair of black under-the-knee socks and school brown shoes.

— She can also be seen with a black turtleneck shirt, along with a denim jacket, a pair of jeans, black rough boots and a couple cute hair buns.

【Ｅｄｕｃａｔｉｏｎ／Ｊｏｂ：】

— 3rd Year Student: Tomoky's on her last year of Highschool.

— Mortician (Former): As she comes from a Mortician family, Tomoky was pushed by her parents for it. She's now attending midnight classes at a College where she was admitted as an apprentice with help of her father.

【Ｖｏｉｃｅ　Ｈｅａｄｃａｎｏｎｓ：】

— Coming Soon

【Ｆａｍ��ｌｙ：】

— Rosalya (???)

— Dimitry Salvatore (Father)

— Yuko Masamune (Stepmother)

— April Lysander (Stepmother)

— Kyra Masamune (Step Sister)

— Lenay, Rita, Karen Salvatore (Step Sisters)

【Ｆａｖｏｒｉｔｅ　Ｆｏｏｄｓ：】

— Strawberry Cheesecake

【Ｈｏｂｂｉｅｓ：】

— Tomoky enjoys anything related to sewing (making clothing pieces, plushies, etc), reading, baking, playing the piano and most of all, Ice skating.

【Ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ：】

— Tomoky tends to be extroverted and friendly all the time, mixed with a little bit of introverted personality. She enjoys meeting new people and helping them in whatever they may need. This reflects on her as a very direct person, sometimes causing discomfort to the people she meets as she gets too confident too soon, that’s why she doesn’t have too many friends.

— She absolutely hates discussing with people, it's weird to see Tomoky angry, because she tries to be nice to everyone she meets, as she always feels alone and tries to be as good as she can with her friends. She often gets nervous when she sees that her friends are getting angry.

— Tomoky's also very good at hiding what she thinks or feels, as she's learnt that some people don't care about that but what she has to do. Even if she doesn't want to do something She'll do it with a smile on her face. This has also made Tomoky someone propense to explode as she supresses her emotions most of the time.

— With her significant other Tomoky is much more than an extroverted girl, she likes to prank them and keep the humor in the relationship, also surprising them with little gifts or favors. She’s not as flirty, but sometimes Tomoky throws a joke or two. Tomoky doesn’t like the idea of showing affection in public, so she barely shares a kiss if they are in a public space. She’s not very jealous or almost nothing at all, if someone went to flirt on their S/O she would trust them enough to just make a pun and not make a big deal about it.

【Ｒｅｌａｔｉｏｎｓｈｉｐｓ：】

× [Closer Family]

— Dimitry Salvatore | Yuko Masamune

Tomoky doesn't have a good relationship with her parents, it's pretty much the same for both of them- they almost never talk. Due to their work they're always busy and the only chances they have to talk it's when, by some miracle, they share a meal on the dinner table. Aside from that, Tomoky and Kyra are called to his Father's office sometimes to talk non-important things, but aside from that, every time they complain, they end up talking about how much their work to give them the best life and such, which has built this silent treatment in all the family.

— Kyra Masamune

The only person which Tomoky has true Family-love for. Kyra is Tomoky's little step sister, which she appreciates more than anything, is thanks to her that she's not alone. Ever since Kyra was born Tomoky has done the job her parents haven't made and cared for her as if she was her real mother, also being kind of overprotective with her.

× [Salvatore Family]

— April Lysander

Aside from being her Stepmother, Tomoky's relationship with April isn't much trustful, there's always been something in her that made Tomoky think that something's wrong with her, even more when she presumes and makes fun of Yuko in family reunions.

— Lenay, Rita, Karen Salvatore

Tomoky grew very separated from her other family since Yuko never liked April, and so she almost never let her and Kyra pay them a visit. Even though, once she grew up enough to go out alone, Tomoky started to meet with them and have fun, as if they were friends, forgetting the rivalry between their family members. It's because of this that Tomoky has a "friendship" feeling more than a "family" one, but she enjoys the time she spends with them and trusts them to support her when she needs it.

× [Sakamaki Family]

— Reiji, Subaru, Shu, Ayato, Laito Sakamaki

As she finds them weird, Tomoky has never gotten very close to any of these family members. They spook her, and most of all, they scare her for being vampires. Also she finds it unnecessary and dangerous, since Kanato doesn't like to see her with any of them. She'll talk to them only if strictly necessary, and even then, most of these times are conversations with Reiji.

— Kanato Sakamaki

Tomoky has acquired a great patience since she met Kanato, and he has been her keeper since she arrived to the Sakamaki Manor. Kanato was the first to show interest in her and the first one to "claim" her. Since then, she had to learn how to deal with him and what to do so he doesn't hurt her even more. With work Tomoky made Kanato change a little on his own, and they began properly dating once he became less aggressive towards her. Tomoky always liked Kanato at first, but he was too dangerous to say anything; she was really happy to see that, after months of hard work, he was more tender and soft with her, which made her really happy.

— KarlHeinz

Tomoky always feels heavily nervous when she's around this man, as he's very mysterious and imponent. They haven't talked much, and the only thing she knows is that, once again, it was someone who his father owed a lot of money to.

× [Other | AU/OC Relationships]

— Akai Haneda

Tomoky's First boyfriend, Akai was the guy Tomoky always dreamed of: Gentle, handsome, loving… And double-faced. After knowing the hurtful truth that Haneda was dating her for a financial benefit, they broke up and never spoke again, which left Tomoky depressed and heartbroken as she never was. It took her much will and tears to get up after this event, and now she never mentions him. Tomoky tries to forget him, but it's impossible, it hurts every time she remembers.

— Yui Komori

Once she arrived to the Sakamaki Manor and saw that there was another girl living there, Tomoky felt relieved, and they became friends as they continued to get to know each other. She liked to spend her time with Yui whenever she could, because it’s the only sane person she could go with when she felt tired of dealing with the vampires they also shared house with. They both understand each other.

— Nunnally Sakamaki (@lured-into-wonderland)

One of Tomoky's closest friends. Nunnally and Tomoky have grew together emotionally, not romantically, but helping each other forget the dark problems they carry on their shoulders. Together they've learn to deal with this and to put each other's feet on earth, not only being best friends, but the best of emotional supports for the other one.

— Cassandra (@bluebird-dolly-bride)

One more of Tomoky's closest friends. As they shared secrets and opened their hearts, Tomoky and Cassandra have grown closer and gained deep trust in each other. When things are tough, when there's nobody to go to, Cassie always offered her help to Tomoky, which made her appreciate it more than never. They both understand that, in bad times, they will always stand for the other, even if it's something really dark or really personal.

— Shoma Komori (@komori--shoma)

Tomoky’s dear lover. Since they met Tomoky found Shoma extremely adorable, mostly because of her childish and spoiled manners, she began to get closer to her, comfort her and spend more time with her, until one day eventually she noticed she liked her when Shoma was gone on a trip. Once Shoma came back and they were together once more, Tomoky decided she would never let her go again.

“People say that morticians are scary, but they tend to call me cute.”

— STORY ──────

—Realization

— HEADCANONS──

—Vivisection of a Petite Mortician

—A Loyal Servant

—Nervous Habits

— TOYHOUSE PROFILE

— ARTFIGHT PROFILE

[shirophantomvox]

Leorio, Hisoka, Illumi, and Chrollo Head Canons #2

What’s up y’all! Thank you so much to the people who have given me feedback about what posts you all would like to see! This post will be about the “Adult Trio” and Leorio about how they would help their significant other with a subject in college. This one is a good suggestion! I’m going to incorporate fluff in this, as I am a sucker for fluff. I hope you all enjoy this! I most certainly do. This post is about 2687 words but don't worry, it's worth the read! These head canons came from my mind its a coincidence that some of these pictures match the thoughts. Portentous (old English) means wonderful or marvelous (in modern English) FYI: I am thinking about creating a discord server for both Voltron and Hunter x Hunter fans. I don’t know how to use the fancy perks of discord yet, so if you know how to and can help me out, send me a message! Alright, let’s get to it! Obviously these images are from Pinterest.

Discord Server for Voltron and HxH fans!

Leorio

“Mr. Leorio”, as we all know, is a sharp guy. He dresses in a suit, carries a suitcase, and wants to be a doctor. This man knows everything about academics, especially math and science. He will need to know these subjects to be a successful medical doctor.

Leorio received an A- in Calculus II and a B+ in Organic Chemistry. He was the only one that passed with flying colors while everyone else barely made it. He didn’t gloat in their faces but as soon as he got into the hallway he jumped for joy.

He was extremely happy about his progress and counted the days until graduation even though that was in 5 years. Wow! Don’t we love graduate school?!

He deserved the high grades because he spent countless nights studying missing parties, football games, and being with you just to make sure he was on the right track to graduating on time.

As we all know, Leorio wanted to pursue this career because he witnessed his best friend dying in front of him powerless to save him. The care for his friend would have been too expensive. Obtaining his degree was in honor of his friend; he’d save countless children, women, and men who’d all thank him for his hard work.

Leorio didn’t socialize much, but he did find himself hanging around a group of classmates that were a part of a co-ed fraternity that provided information on scholarship money for graduate school and job opportunities. This is where he met you. You didn’t want to be a doctor but instead wanted to be a computer scientist and decided to volunteer for this fraternity job fair.

As he rejoiced, his smile faded when he saw you walking down the hallway; tears falling from your face not caring who stared at you. He quickly walked up to you, put his arm around your back, and gave you a soft hug.

“What’s the matter,” he asks.

You were failing Calculus, a class you’ve been taking since the 12th grade but for some reason, you couldn’t pass it. Everyone else had A’s and B’s, while you had a D. D’s aren't accaetable in college; most make you retake the class.

“Don’t worry. I’ve just passed my midterm. I can help you study. You’ll pass; trust me.”

Later on that evening, he kept his promise but gave it a unique twist. He kept the lights off and lit 4 Yankee-sized candles in the room that smelled like Lavender. In the background, he had piano jazz playing on his speaker. You felt confused for a moment. You and Leorio weren’t necessarily dating but you both flirted with each other here and there. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he felt comfortable talking to you.

“Um...what’s the music for?”

“It helps me concentrate. Believe it or not, it helps my brain flow. You like it don’t you?”

“No, actually I don’t.” Truth be told you loved it but you wanted to pull his strings a little. He looked up with a confused look.

“Ok. I’ll turn it off.”

“I'm kidding! It’s great!”

Whenever he cannot solve a Calculus question, he reviews similar problems from Algebra II. He applies this knowledge to your problem.

“Perform the indicated function evaluations for f(x)=3−5x−2x^2 . I’ll solve the first part for an example: f(6+t) simply means you will exchange “x” for 6+t. It will look like f(6+t)=3-5(6+t)-2(6+t)^2=-49 . You’d distribute -5 and -2 to the numbers inside of the brackets in which they are next to.”

Wow, that was easy! Wait, not he must think you’re stupid.

“You must think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“Of course not! It took me a while to understand it too. You’ll apply the same knowledge for the rest.”

After what seemed like 4 hours (which was 2), you finally finished your homework! It was probably wrong but at least you made it past the 1st question! As you blew out the candles and turned on your LED lights instead, you see Leorio sleeping on your couch. Something about his soft face made you smile and place your hand over your heart.

“My little doctor,” you whispered to yourself.

“Well, come give this doctor some company then. I’m freezing over here!”

The throw blanket was large enough for you both. Snuggling on the couch was a great end to a stressful day.

Chrollo

To everyone else Chrollo was “Boss” or “Boss Man” but to you, he was Chrollo. Big C was known for his love for poetry and language.

He read poetry any chance he had at lunch and even dinner. It had gotten so bad that you had to tell him for the millionth time “No books at the table!”

Given his past, he always read at least 2 hours a day or one book a week. Reading is what got him through the day.

He was staying in your dorm for the day to relax because he had taken and passed his midterms to. The young thief thought about hiding in the closet but he didn’t because he sensed that you’d be tense because of midterms.

As you walked through the door, you looked angry, so angry that you could punch a wall. He immediately rose to his feet, threw his arms straight out in front of him, and motioned for you to stop. You just stared at him blankly.

“Come here,” he said like you, on cue, melted in his arms. He was warm and the deepness of his cooing voice vibrated against your neck. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m failing this stupid Shakespeare class!”

“Really?”

“Yes and if I don’t pass this midterm I’m going to fail the class for the 3rd time. I want to drop out! Who needs this scam anyway?!”

Chrollo held you a bit longer until you were ready to sit down and get to business. You pulled out your college’s book about Shakespeare plays and how he used Old English. Chrollo was the perfect man for the job! He’s read Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet several times!

Chrollo read a few stanzas and explained them. He then had you read some on your own and explain them...still you can’t.

He notices the problem immediately. He catches you snuggling comfortably against his toned arm, nearly falling asleep.

Chrollo laid at the very corner of the couch as you lay horizontally placing your head against his chest. You were comfortable but you weren’t able to focus. He notices this and slightly demands that you go sit at the table. When it came to academics, he was serious.

For as long as he had been reading, he has an arsenal of vocabulary words ready to be of use. He created flashcards for you and had you flip them over for nearly an hour. You start to memorize the words!

But you’re not done yet.

“Say the word ‘portentous’.”

“Por-ten-trious…?”

“No. Por-ten-tas.”

“Tias…?”

He moved his chair next to you, just an inch away from your face. He cups your mouth and moves it as he speaks again. This wasn’t a hard clutch, it was soft and he wasn’t irritated but he could sense that you were becoming irritated.

“Por-ten-tas,” he said again.

Instead of letting your cheeks go, his eyes diverted to your lips. They were moist and plump, ready to be met by his.

“Your lips are gorgeous. Kisseth me quite quaint.”

Oh no. Look at the monster you’ve created.

Chrollo created a reward system. Whenever he did things right as a child, he was rewarded with money and jewels. For every word you pronounced and defined correctly, he kissed you once. For each word you got correct in a row, he’d kiss you twice.

Soon enough he had kissed you so much that you couldn’t see straight!

The kisses worked because you passed your midterm! Each kiss placed a stain in your brain that made you remember the definition and how to pronounce it.

You and Chrollo celebrated by drinking champagne and listened to him read Sonnet 23 and 57.

Hisoka

As unusual as it seems, Hisoka is gifted when it comes to Chemistry specifically. That is why you two work well together...there is some chemistry going on between you two.

His hair down and his glasses were his alter ego, it was something that made him act completely different than what you were used to.

When you all were freshmen, he would skip class, attend parties, and would be hungover almost every week but once he was called into the Dean’s office, he changed.

You slightly missed that edgy side of him, but you enjoyed having a serious beau.

Hisoka is a social butterfly and is the life of the conversation and you loved him for it but sometimes it was awkward.

While he was chatting away about Calcium (Ca) and Iron (Fe), you stood there nodding like an idiot. You had NO IDEA about what he was talking about and that is why you were going to drop your chemistry class.

“I saw an imbecile put aluminum foil in the microwave and it burst into flames. How did they not know that Microwaves are the radio waves falling under frequency around 2500 megahertz? Any metallic object detected by radio waves inside the microwave acts as a reflector of radio waves.”

You shove his arm hard. He was acting arrogant in front of his friends. You were used to this but it got on your nerves. You made mistakes, everyone does!...even those that almost burn down the entire dorm room.

You two leave the party and head to his dorm room. Once you were settled, you released a can of anger and threw it all over your boyfriend.

“Hisoka? You just humiliated me.”

“Oh? No one knows that I was talking about you, my dear.”

“Don’t ‘my dear’ me! I asked for your help and you’re ignoring me. I don’t appreciate that. I didn’t ignore you when you sprained your ankle, did I?”

“No, you didn’t, dear. I supposed I have a few hours to kill. What do you need help with?”

Hisoka’s way of studying was much different from other students. He exercises like crazy before he opens his textbook.

He listens to EDM instrumentals while on the treadmill and when he lifts weights. You weren’t standing there like a trophy, he made you lift too.

“Being healthy will help your brain flow more easily. Lift this dumbbell as heavy as you can.”

He ran a mile on the track upstairs. Sweat dripped from his face like he had been standing outside in the rain.

By the time you returned to his dorm, you were beyond tired. You laid your head on his pillow but just as you closed your eyes, he pulled you up on your feet.”

“Not on my watch,” he tutted. “It’s chemistry time.”

You were having trouble memorizing Chemical Formulas and this by far was the most difficult concept you had come across.

To make you stay awake, he turned on a bright LED light and faced it towards the table. The bright light nearly made your head fall off from the pain it reflected in your eyes.

Hisoka grabbed his book and began to write down the major chemicals on the periodic table and their charges.

“Pay attention to the following abbreviations and charges: Calcium is Ca, Chloride is Cl+2, Carbide is C+2, and Carbon Dioxide is CO+2. Read these over and I’ll test you again.”

He did just that but you still weren’t understanding. You were ready to give up.

Stupid scam. Why do I need a piece of paper to determine what I can do? You thought to yourself. Well, it’s obvious. If you can’t do the work now, what makes you think you can do it at a job? Harsh, I know.

“Let me try this,” He said. He carried you to his bedroom and gently placed you on it. He took off his shirt and removed his glasses. “Aluminum has a charge of +3 and Oxygen has -2. If there were three of me and two of my clones disappeared, how many of me are left?”

“Just you, right? One”

“Correct! Excellent.”

Wow, everything started making sense once he took his shirt off.

From then, he just inserted himself into the equation and then it started to make sense! He apologized for running his mouth earlier and promised to keep any more secrets between you two. The night ended with you sleeping in his bed wrapped in a cotton blanket just cuddling and that was it. And bam! You slept as sound.

Illumi

Dating the “hot” quiet history buff was a flex of its own. Sure Illumi didn’t talk to anyone besides you, but it didn’t matter. People swooned if he looked in their direction.

History was a popular major during your era. People were not like their grandparents; they wanted to learn about other cultures besides their own. Illumi’s specialty was in world history and civilizations. The class was very interesting to you but there was so much information, you could barely process it.

Illumi often wrote his essays in one day proofread and all! He often charged people to look their essays over.

One time he made $500 in one year!

Glancing at your transcripts, he notices that you have a C- and offers to help.

“Why are you looking through my stuff?”

Hey, he’s your boyfriend! But still, he should ask.

“Sorry. It was up on the screen,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

You began to blush in embarrassment. The hottest smartest man in the building now knew that you were failing one of the easiest classes on campus.

Placing his thumb under your chin, he lifted your head to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can help you.”

“How? I am so behind! I zoned out after chapter 2!”

“We’ll watch a movie.”

“Oh, God! Not one from PBS is it?!”

“Yes. How else are you supposed to learn?”

He turns on the movie and allows you to lay your head on his shoulder but not too much. He is aware of your tricks and he wants you to pay attention.

Every 15 minutes, he pauses the movie and asks you checkpoint questions. If you got them wrong, you had to stand up with your underclothes on (t-shirt and shorts) in the cool room for 10 minutes. If you got the questions right, he allows you to lay more comfortably. You were already in your underclothes but you were under the blanket.

He made you write down key definitions and the embarrassment of each section.

After the movie, he blindfolds you and reads out a term. Surprisingly, you got them all correct!

As a reward for your past midterm, he takes you to dinner at a restaurant where he slips a promise ring on your finger containing your birthstone.

[laurenwritesfics]

The Pieces We Leave Behind

CHAPTER ONE: FRANK

Mary had buried herself in books again. She was a curious and intelligent young girl, but her love of reading was turning into obsession. So much so that Frank was beginning to worry about Vitamin D deficiency. She looked a little too pale. He usually hauled her out of her chair – met with screams and slaps of protestation – and took her to the beach or the park for ice cream, but today, he was piling her into the car to meet with the school principal. Mary had been accused of bullying, and Frank wasn’t going to let it stand.

“This is so stupid.” Mary huffed and crossed her arms. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I know, just get in the car.”

She rolled her eyes, slipping her backpack off her shoulder, throwing it onto the seat beside her. The engine of Frank’s 1974 sedan sputtered to life. Frank’s mother Evelyn called it a rickety rust-bucket, but it was his pride and joy – second only to his sweet, silly niece, who was currently sulking in the back seat.

That was the thing about Frank Adler. He didn’t fix broken things, he just knew when something was worth saving. He saw potential that nobody else could.

He was the first to break away from the family. He was tired, he said, of living a Stepford lie.

This was how he came to be Mary’s guardian. After the death of his sister Diane, the Adler family was irreparably splintered. In the midst of Evelyn’s grief, she had swept Mary up into a life she would never become accustomed to - piano lessons, private school, badminton, early bedtime and absolutely no television.

At just seven years old, Mary was wide-eyed and wise. A headstrong child who sometimes alarmed Evelyn with her ability to face the world fearlessly. Her teachers referred to her as ‘gifted’, which made Evelyn’s eyes light up. She was just like Diane. That was the beginning of the end of Mary’s childhood. Night after night, she would be tucked into bed with a book. As the months went by, childhood favorites were replaced with educational textbooks. Mornings started with a pop quiz. Her social circle grew smaller. She eventually found herself so frustrated by her restrictive life with Evelyn that she once threatened to run away, as children often do. But Evelyn knew that Mary meant it. So when it did finally happen, the thing that shocked her the most was not the act itself, but the fact that, of all people, Mary ran to Frank for help.

At ten years old, Diane scored her first grade A in mathematics. From that moment on, Evelyn decided to live vicariously through her daughter. She had devoted her youth to solving the Navier–Stokes problem (one of the unsolved Millennium Prize Problems), but had never been successful. Frank was the only one who saw her slowly disappear. Forced into a mold that didn’t fit her. He watched Diane suffer through countless socialite soirées, nodding politely, eyes glazed. He was the last person to call her. He found her. He blamed Evelyn.

She would never believe that the cause of death was suicide. Diane was so happy, she said. So intelligent. So perfect. Of course, perfection didn’t exist. She learned this a mere month later when her marriage fell apart.

Mary was the only piece of Diane that was left.

Frank knew that if Mary stayed in Boston with his mother, history would repeat itself. So he intervened. He sent care packages all the way from Florida. They called each other weekly. Six months into what Frank referred to as her kidnapping, he received a phone call in the middle of the night. She was uncharacteristically subdued. Whispering. Her voice trembled. She was trapped. Four hours later he was bundling her into a taxi. It wasn’t going to happen again. Not on his watch.

Evelyn would never forgive him, but he didn’t care. Frank loved his mother – he always would – he just didn’t like her.

The more time Mary spent in Florida, the more she began to dislike Evelyn, too.

It was an unspoken rule that Evelyn was informed of Mary’s achievements. She didn’t much care for the other things – the friendships, the slumber parties, the times she cried herself to sleep from stress and in fear of bullies – those were Frank’s problems. The only problems she cared about were mathematical. She didn’t visit on Mary’s seventh birthday, but she did attend the parent-teacher conference that came after it. Frank was sure that if Evelyn set foot in the principal’s office she would have a heart attack on the spot. So, here he was, driving Mary to school to correct the misinformed adults who believed that his niece was capable of hurting another child.

“Slow down!” Mary caught Frank’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “Mom said never go to bed or drive angry.”

“I’m not angry.” He said, almost flatly enough to mask his frustration.

“Yes you are.”

Frank tapped his index finger on the steering wheel. He counted to ten in his head, exhaling slowly.

“Fine, I’m angry.” He admitted. “These stuck-up bastards don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Don’t swear.” Mary chided.

“Sorry.”

A short woman with a thin, pinched face emerged from the principal’s office.

Mary was leaning against the window, chin in her palm, counting the trees that passed by, partly to keep herself occupied, partly to quell the anxiety that was swirling inside her. She was always quiet, focussed, and polite. She went out of her way to make friends with the other children. This was entirely unfair. Back in Boston, she had spent time in almost every school in the city – co-ed, prep school, all-girls, but she never stayed too long. She was either too inquisitive, too restless, or – ironically – too smart. Sometimes it felt as though she didn’t belong anywhere at all.

Weaving through the long line of cars in the school parking lot, Frank stopped awkwardly and swung himself out of the car, keeping tight hold of Mary’s hand as they made their way inside. The occasional echo of chatter and footsteps cut through the otherwise silent hallway. The closer they got to the office, the easier it was for Mary to breathe. It was going to work out. Frank would take care of it. He had a talent for charming people into submission.

“Who’s that?” Frank straightened his shirt, still stained with oil and sweat from an afternoon spent fixing up a boat for a local fisherman.

“Mrs Weston.” Mary half-whispered, shrinking in her chair a little. “We hate her.”

Frank huffed, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes we do.”

Then, an interruption from a harsh, husky voice.

“Mary Adler?”

Frank turned to Mary, slapping the arm of the chair. “Looks like we’re up, kiddo. You okay?” He tilted his head in concern.

“I guess.” Mary shrugged, her shoulders sinking for a moment before she pushed herself forward and took hold of Frank’s hand again.

The woman’s eyes narrowed and roamed over the two of them. She pursed her lips, paused, and finally spoke.

“Principal Mitchell is unavailable this morning.” She said curtly. “Vice-Principal Madeline Weston. Come in.”

Rustling papers. The pronounced tick-tick-tock of the clock on the wall. An awkward cough. Frank shifted in his seat, a creak eliciting from beneath the adult weight it clearly wasn’t made to support. Leaning out of a slouch, elbows resting on his knees, he tented his fingers and waited for the inevitable stretching of the truth. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, locking eyes with the woman who clearly didn’t know Mary at all.

“Do your worst.” Frank muttered not quite far enough under his breath.

“I take it you’ve done this before, Mr Adler?”

“Once or twice.”

A judgemental hum. “Then I’m sure you know why you’re here today. Mr Adler, your daughter-“

“She’s my niece.”

Madeline crossed her legs and adjusted her lapels. “Your niece is disruptive. She is preventing the other students from learning.”

“How, exactly?”

“Interruptions. Selfishness. Questions in math class are answered almost exclusively by Miss Adler.”

“Yeah, probably because she’s the only one who knows the answer.” Frank scoffed.

“Do not insult the quality of education provided at this school, Mr Adler.”

“I’m insulting the students. Mary can do so much better than here. She’s so smart – too smart.” His voice deepened, even and impassioned. “If you just took the time to get to know her-“

Madeline cut him off. “We don’t get to know the children here, Mr Adler. We encourage their talents.”

Frank tried and failed to fight the push in his calves compelling him to stand up. He tapped Mary’s shoulder and made his way to the door. Whether she liked it or not, Evelyn was going to hear about this.

“This is bullshit. Mary, we’re done here.”

Launching herself out of her chair with a scowl, Mary followed Frank back into the hallway.

“So that’s the Wicked Witch of the West, huh?”

Mary exploded into laughter.

The sun beat down on the asphalt as they re-entered the parking lot, hands pressing against searing metal, the air thick and musty inside the car. Frank adjusted the rear-view mirror, turned the key and hooked his arm around the passenger seat as he pulled away.

“Buckle up, genius. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Read chapter one HERE. Read the full series on AO3.

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[vminity21]

+1 | kth

Pairing: HighschoolCrush!Taehyung X StillProcessingIt!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Genre: angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): slight language use, angst (if you read b/w the lines), pretty much smutty kissing, hand groping, mention of alcohol, breast worship, nipple play; Rated: 18+

Summary: When a crush you had in high school unexpectedly returns to your life six years later, this is the experience you have with him when you collected the courage to invite him over to hangout.

Credit to: @suhdays​ for the amazing cover!

Inspiration comes in the form of little expectancy especially when life seems to throw a curveball you never dreamed would be a potential possibility; but, here you are, tapping upon the keyboard of your five-year-old laptop decorated in stickers of celebs you've admired over the years mingled with relevant quotes that have bustled yet again- inspiration that motivates you day by day to continue to be the human being that you are. Inspiration though can appear in lyrical melodies broadcasted globally for millions to pine over; or, published in numerous pages creating imaginary worlds where ones can escape to; or, sketched in a meticulous design to build whatever idea had been desired to come to life; or, filmed in scenes of an edited story by talented persons determined to enter the spotlight in any way they can; or, painted along a canvas in colors of calculated detail bringing forth the picture of accomplishment. Inspiration derives from a mere moment- one that sparks the instinct to gather the materials needed to pour out your heart in ways that may bring a sense of peace.

For you, it used to be in the lines of a song penciled into a crinkled notebook from your backpack hidden away for no one to discover; it used to be countless childhood journals where you expressed your inward battles in order to find enough solace to sleep at night. You've lost your touch over the years because life changes in the blink of an eye, as you grow older, and work can distract from the time taken to focus on yourself; thankfully graduating college to gain the degree you now behold landed you a job, one you hope lasts for many years, and you are currently living in a two-bedroom apartment with your best friend, Monica, who's presently slumbering as you brush some loose strands of hair from your vision.

Your dog is curled at the end of your bed as you write, which is something that you haven't done in what feels like forever, but the reasoning behind this sporadic urge ignited when the familiar pair of brown eyes from six years prior, re-entered your world without your preparation and his presence from a recent night shared seems to echo in every space of your brain to where you've finally had enough. It's about time to reach out, the devil on your shoulder whispers, but the angel sitting on the opposite begs to differ. Shaking your head, you pause momentarily, cracking your knuckles before resting your forehead on the desk, exhaling slowly while the memory of his touch seems to haunt your skin.

He was someone you once admired in high school- roaming the hallways where girls giggled giddily each time he'd pass by; star of the basketball team, rising popularity to the point everyone knew his name, collecting homework answers from budding friendships, and it all began once he started his junior year at a new school- the school where you attended. But the difference that set him apart from the typical cliché's of the prevalent students you never seemed to relate to, was that he talked to absolutely everybody and anybody- no judgment on what group the person took part in, his kindness won the hearts of many other than the evident attraction of his physical features. He didn't care who you were or what you were into, he would be your friend, and that, considering he was viewed on a higher level, made him even more special.

Despite never admitting it then, you had a crush on him. He was more of an acquaintance, but you enjoyed his company when he came around, and when a past friend, who is now married with a few kids, used to have a crush on the same person, your heart sank, because with every guy thinking she was hot, you felt as though you would never stand a chance. Especially not with this guy who made your hands jittery and the beat in your chest skip- the guy who is none other than Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung would frequent the chorus room at times when you and your past friend would practice music pieces and he always was fond of your singing voice- something he praised you for often, while his attention was received from his talent regarding sports. Something he was so good at that it was spread that he may have gained quite the scholarship for college if he decided to go. There were memories of bravery where you seized the day just to steal a conversation and a hug; at one time, scribbling the words 'hot af' with an arrow pointing where he signed your friend, Min Yoongi's, yearbook; Yoongi playing it off as though he had no idea who the culprit was when Taehyung asked who wrote it. Utter surprise can't even fathom when you along with Taehyung were voted 'Most Likely to be Famous' by your graduating class when senior year was conquered. The inside joke was for you to hold the basketball while he placed his hands upon the keys of a piano, the picture you still couldn't process happened, but always remained grateful for.

Six years flew by and the conversation never necessarily held, but there were the rare messages from social media where he'd reach out hoping all had been well with you. Interestingly enough, a cover you posted harmonizing with a fellow singer happened to be his absolute favorite, one of the few Instagram posts he'd commented on, and one of the few singing videos he continuously would listen to repeatedly without your knowledge until a few weeks ago when he revealed that to you. A cover that is now near to be a four-year-old video that he still finds uplifting when he hears you and the way your voice blended so well with the other female. Your mind is reeling because after all this time, and even now, there are remains of the aftershock, trying to forget the feel of him, when there's no way you can, not with everything so fresh on your mind. So fresh on your heart.

It all occurred when Yoongi, who kept in touch with you occasionally after graduation brought you up to Taehyung who happened to think of you earlier when listening to his favorite cover of yours, and he agreed he'd like to hang out. He asked if his friend, Hoseok could join you, Monica, and Yoongi which of course you said yes to learn how sweet you found it, that he had traveled within the span of a day after visiting his grandparents, because he is a man of his word, planned to come see you even though the drive was five hours out of his way. The night was filled with so much laughter mixed with serious conversations to the point the card game that was supposed to be played was never finished, and it sprung the desire of wanting to see Taehyung again, and you couldn't come to terms with never knowing so after some encouragement from Monnie and Yoongi, you messaged T to hang out a few days later, but never opened his reply until you were safely home from work.

Taehyung: Gotcha! Hmmm, I haven't decided on what I intend on doing. Either being with family or hanging out with friends. If I don't hang out with family, you could be my plus 1 or bring whomever or vice versa

[Y/N]: Sorry I just got home from work! I'll definitely be your plus 1 if hanging with family doesn't work out! Sounds like a plan!

He asked if you wanted anything from the store when it was confirmed he was on his way which you responded with your typical answer of no, and with music playing from your Bluetooth speaker, you were highly humiliated when you lost track of four minutes of time, opening a message from him to see that he had been there, at your door. Heart racing you rushed to unlock it, head spinning when you saw he leaned against the stair railing with a plastic bag of two Arbor Mist wine bottles dangling from his hand, him promising everything was fine despite your profuse apologies- him slipping his phone in his back pocket while he followed you into your home.

Monnie happened to be staying the night with her family, so it would be just the two of you tonight, besides your dog who bounced at his legs while he reached down to pet her fluffy head. Taking in the sight of him, now that was something you found hard to believe. Just a simple pair of jeans, a gray t-shirt with a black jacket complementing the dark tendrils of hair spread across his forehead leading to the carefully sculpted lining of his jaw nearly brought you to your knees, but you held it together long enough to settle across from him at your dining room table. He had taken off his shoes at the door remembering upon a few days prior, and he set out the wine while you jumped to retrieve wine glasses (Yoongi happened to purchase for you) while banter still related to greetings.

One thing that truly intrigued you when first seeing Taehyung after six years were words, he had said that touched your heart more than you'd like to profess. "That's why I try to enjoy every moment with people because you never know what day will be your last," and you knew right then, that if there was anyone you wanted to share a moment with, it was him, and there he was, right before you, smiling about something you said while the sound of the fruity liquid-filled each glass.

"I really truly do not understand what you are so afraid of. What do you even have to lose?" Monnie tinkered with the lens to her camera while she sauntered through the living room. Exasperated from anxiety, you sucked in your lips before teasingly throwing her the side-eye.

"My dignity,"

"Oh c'mon," she paused, lifting a brow. You had been talking nonstop on how bad you wanted to invite Taehyung over, but fear of rejection including the fear of humiliation seemed to overwhelm you, although deep down you knew your best friend in the entire world was correct. You did not nor do you have anything to lose.

"Well!" You squawked, raising your palms dramatically in the air before slapping them to the sides of your thighs, "Why the hell would Kim Taehyung ever want to hang out with me anyway? Do you not see how farfetched this all is?"

"Bold of you to assume that my life isn't already farfetched enough as it is-"

"Not! The point!"

Monnie sighed, and when she saw the way your shoulders slumped in disappointment that shouldn't have been an issue, to begin with, she stepped closer, placing her hand on your shoulder, "First off, you are overthinking this, and you shouldn't. Besides, I think after hanging out as a group, he only sees you as a friend, meaning no expectations. So, go into it with that mindset okay? I'm sure he'd love to hang out with you. Secondly," she smiled, her serene expression filled with promises she always kept, "You've waited six years for this. I think you should ask him to hang out."

"You really think so?" Your grin reached your hopeful eyes, and the feeling in your chest seemed to react more positively despite your earlier turmoil.

"Yeah. The dude owes us a chair anyways,"

"Ah!" You cackled, back pressed against the dining room table as you remembered literally a few days ago when Taehyung accidentally broke a spindle of the chair in half with his foot when Yoongi scared him just by suddenly walking down the hallway. "I don't think I've ever seen a man so embarrassed."

"I'm not saying to hold it over his head, but," Monnie held up her index finger, "I think that gives him enough reason to come back," she giggled, setting her camera on the dining room table before waltzing into the kitchen.

You shrugged, "At least we can still sit on it."

"Look at it, it's staring at me," Taehyung pointed swiftly at where the vacant spindle would have been, your laughter reverberated throughout the space.

"T, really, you do not owe us new chairs. I promise, it's fine," you reassured him, realizing your cheeks were sore from how much you'd been smiling since he entered your 'realm of refuge' as you liked to describe your apartment. He snapped a picture of it, probably with the intention of getting a new chair for you and Monica regardless, and you found that appreciative although you would be happy if he didn't.

Shit. You pause from the computer screen, leaning back into your chair before folding your arms tight across your chest. Eyeballing the cursor, your vision narrows as it blinks, waiting for you to add more words to the memory that seems to spin in a cycle with the subtle goal of not stopping. Or, so you figure. If recalling every little detail isn't already hard enough, reliving the reminiscence of his fingers twirling in your hair, his sweet laugh when he looked at you, or the way he held you so tight-

But, everything in between, leading up to those mesmerizing flashes are just as important to you as what it led to. Maybe it was the conversation- the three hours of conversation before the move to the sofa which it was hard to fully focus on what else was being said because how could you properly concentrate when the one person, you'd been so worried about spending time with was seriously conversing with you like the pair of you had been friends your whole lives?

Miraculously, you were able to gather the stories of past vacations that resulted in mild disappointment revolving around the complaints of people surrounding him, or the goal of visiting as many places as possible leading Taehyung to scribble down a list of where he'd been to reveal you both have equally been to the same amount of places. Of course, the thrill of going on a mini adventure with him brought an excitement you haven't felt in a while; even the story of why he was transferred to your high school years ago due to a misunderstanding, and when the pair of you made your way to the couch, he nestled into one corner while you gladly took the other, wishing you could snuggle closer but fear prevented you from doing so.

It seemed as though that he didn't want to watch the movie anyhow, because he talked to you as though he never wanted to stop, and eventually it led to you asking one too many times if he was okay with spending the rest of the night with you. "It's up to you, I'll stay if you want me too," he promised, the way your heart fluttered when you replied, "Yes, can you please stay? I don't want you to go."

"Alright, alright! I'll stay," he smiled widely, both of his large hands reaching out, and there was not one ounce of hesitation from you- your hands grasped his before your dog jumped to beg for attention, trying to lick at his face causing your hands to undo. Laughter was contagious with Taehyung, and still cuddled into the corner of the couch, you were so elated that he was going to stay, you reached to hug him, his arms wrapping around you, the feel of your bodies aligning putting the biggest smile on your face. It was crazy how everything was seeming to fall into place- the stars aligning as though it was all magic; and, you couldn't get past how right everything felt. How right he felt. Pulling away, his smile never left him, "Are you shy?" His arm remained draped around your shoulders, and timidly you peer at his surprised gape, his black hair almost covered his crescent eyes.

"I mean... Yeah, I can be," you murmured, reaching to hug him again, but something washed over you this time, a thought that had crossed your mind repeatedly that you just couldn't take it anymore. The side of his face was blurred, placing your palm upon his cheek, and without even a moment of doubt, you kissed him. A sudden decision, but one of the best ones you could have made.

His lips were so soft, the way his mouth just seemed to mold with yours for only a few mere seconds, and the shock on his face when you pulled away, paired with the realization that his hands were held in the air, you hadn't expected his reaction. Shit! You cursed inwardly, immediately jumping back to persistently make sure he was okay; even when he moved to cuddle with you, him claiming everything was fine, but that he couldn't believe you kissed him being the both of you never once saw this coming especially six years ago during the high school days. His hand was fidgety as he swiftly rubbed your shoulder, your head buried on his chest while your mind spun in a continuous loop of how you could not believe that you kissed Taehyung. The Kim Taehyung.

He became quiet- too quiet, concern etched in your expression, maneuvering yourself back to the opposite corner of the couch, so you could face him. "T, are you sure you're okay? Did I freak you out?"

"No, no, I just can't believe you kissed me," he was in awe, eyes dazed as he ran his slim fingers through his hair, "Like, really I never saw this coming,"

"I mean, have you looked in the mirror?" You teased, knowing damn well he'd been aware of you finding him attractive, and he shook his head in dismissal of your compliment as he chuckled; it took you a whole sixty seconds to realize you were holding his hand, fingers linked, and him asking if you were nervous due to your clammy palm, though you tried to swear up and down you were not, the next round of words he said nearly brought you to tears when he finally spoke.

"You shouldn't sell yourself short," he looked you in the eyes without any faltering, although you tilted your head in mild confusion as to why he was saying this, to begin with, "I don't think you realize how much of an impact you've made on others, especially guys," ah, he was letting you down easy, and you knew it, but you're too stunned to speak as you listened, "I don't think you give yourself enough credit either. You're a great singer, you're pretty much a musician, you love animals, you have a job, you live on your own. Really, you shouldn't sell yourself short-"

"T," you breathed, pleading almost, but trying not to make it obvious, but he never broke eye contact, "We don't have to date or anything, I just- I just wanted a moment with you." You mentioned what inspired you to spend time with him- exposing how a few nights ago when he said he wanted to enjoy every moment with people- you knew you wanted to have a moment with him, too. Memories from high school were spoken momentarily, thirty minutes passing by which included a made-up handshake as well as the subtle twirl of his fingers in your hair- him complimenting how good your hair looked which made you blush even more.

Just when you thought he wasn't already smooth enough, you noticed Taehyung started teasing your dog, her pouncing at his chest before he'd lean in closer to you. Eyebrows scrunching, it took you a hot second to realize what he was doing. Each time Taehyung would scoot closer to you, he'd kiss you, sending the pair of you in boisterous laughter when your dog would try to break the kisses by jumping in between your faces. The more your lips would touch, it'd last a bit longer and longer, your hand clinging to the side of his jacket to pull him closer when things really started moving fast, eventually your dog left the room with the hint that attention was no longer available for her.

Still lip-locked, Taheyung's hands gripped your hips while you willingly moved to straddle him, arms resting on the top of the couch on either side of his head, the tip of your tongue glided along his, while he fanned his hands along your ass. You refrained from moaning into his kiss despite how bad you wanted to, yet you held yourself together, involuntarily grinding your clothed heat where his erection was felt. T smacked your ass before slithering the tips of his fingers to your shirt, slowly unbuttoning one by one.... One by one. His eyes were hazed from how much he was craving your mouth, and with a seductive nod in his direction, he continued until he made it to the final goal, your kisses never planning to stop, the sides of your shirt being brushed away for him to take in the sight of you.

"Ooh my God," his eyes darkened in evident lust when he saw the way your black bra cupped your breasts, "Oh my God," his voice deepened, him hardly knowing what to do with himself while your smirk remained subtlety on your mouth. Though you hadn't needed him to ask, he politely waited for your permission to touch your chest, a quick pang of frilly nerves ghosted your stomach.

"Yeah," you breathed seductively, gradually moving to capture his lips, trying to hold back a giggle when he gently moved his hands to your back, "You're not going to find it there," you mused, referring to the clip. He paused as if panicked, "It's in the front," you finally admitted, but failing miserably, Taehyung let you take initiative, you unclipped your bra uncovering what is now widening his brown eyes. "Oh my God!" His reaction made you want to cum right then and there, especially when his fingers made their way to squeeze your nipples when his mouth returned to yours. Taehyung worshiped your breasts, and for some odd, yet arousing reason, you lived for it.

You're uncertain of when the tv was switched off, and even now, as your hands continue to fly across the keyboard, one thing you do recall, one of the lingering memories of the evening was your shirt being off, thrown onto the floor mingled with your bra, and without any warning, Taehyung hoisted you in the air, your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso while he tightened his hold around your body. His steps were painfully careful, kissing you roughly while your arms kept their place behind his neck, and the direction was being taken to your bedroom where your heart pounded so anxiously to be. His jacket was shed before the bold act, and all that was left was his gray t-shirt and jeans. Laying you down with a bounce from your mattress, he remained above you, and your eyes refused to stray especially when he reached to remove his shirt- his smooth skin greeting yours sending waves of goosebumps spreading among your limbs.

There was no one like him in your eyes, and there never would be. Not in your heart. And with how perfect everything was going; you were not prepared for how hard it was going to be to stop before things went too far. Because what if he doesn't exactly feel the same? He was letting you down easy not even an hour ago, and here you were, hopes so high, you weren't sure how you were going to erase them back down. He kissed you until you couldn't breathe, your fingers dug into your comforter, while his palms glided all over your frame for however long you let him, but when he went to remove your leggings, you halted him.

Now, this is where your heart aches when you relive this part, because a conversation was held, one where you mentioned what if someone catches feelings if the both of you decided to solely be just friends with benefits? Taehyung said all you had to do was communicate with him because he was easy to get along with, and you've known this about him for six years. He was always someone easy to talk to, and you knew he would never treat you poorly over a situation like this. And, he hadn't. You made the executive decision to not sleep with him for you wanted him to remember you as the woman you are, and the woman, you've always been, and with the fear of going all the way being something that could change his image of you, you were satisfied to hear the loud echoes of his snoring after you changed into pajamas, gazing at his sleeping demeanor before you drifted into slumber as well.

When the morning came, you were not ready for him to leave, but he asked if you would walk him out, him throwing on his shirt and jacket while you rushed to brush your teeth. T asked if you had any other plans for the rest of the day which you proceeded to answer honestly with a no, as he mentioned that he was going to get breakfast.

"Let me know when you make it home," you said tenderly, "I want to know you're safe,"

"I will," he promised before you embraced him, turning just enough to place a peck to his cheek. It was his smile that decided to enter your recollection- the boxy smile that would plague you until the day you accept that you will never forget it.

And when you opened the door to the apartment where he gracefully waltzed through, you merely caught a glimpse of him leaving, ahead of you quietly shutting the door to whatever could have been.

Or, what could have started a beautiful story that has yet to unfold.

[some-dr-writings]

Korekiyo and Nagito x SHSL Military General

Korekiyo Shinguji:

·       “Simply beautiful.” Korekiyo found himself saying those two words often around The Super High School Level Military General. Everything about such a person was simply so, how could anything else describe them.

·       At first he had heard the rumors of you, the strict, stone cold, military general whom had taken over their entire class. With a simple snap of the finger you’d summon your entire class, utter one word and they were already off obeying your coded command. Your every movement was stiff, yet effortless. Everything had a deliberate purpose, even a twitch of the nose. You had such control over everything and everyone around you, all bending to your will.

·       Kiyo was content simply observing you at a distance, and yet a part of him wanted to disturb your space, to know you better. Though from a single glance he could tell idle chit-chat was not something you’d partake in, so he was fine. What did surprise him though was you approaching him.

·       “I need your expertise.” “AH! Oh… It’s you.” He took a deep breath, placing a hand over his heart. “You startled me. I hadn’t even realized you had come in. How may I help you?” “Anthropology, you study human beings, their culture and traditions, the origins of those, that is what you do, correct?” “Indeed, it is.” In one swift movement you took off your hat, holding it over your chest before bowing. “Please teach me. The better I understand people, I may better understand my soldiers and our targets. I must learn all I can to make conflict end with minimal damage to all sides. I must learn how to form people into as powerful, independent, a team player, and dependable as they can be so that they may survive, even without my direct guidance. That is my sole goal in life, would you assist me in my endeavor?” “… Simply beautiful. I would love to help in any way I can.” And that was how you had begun to regularly meet with Kiyo and visit him in his lab.

·       Any and all stories Kiyo would tell you or any artifacts he’d show, you’d always take detailed notes, dissecting them in order to find the humanity behind such fables, find what compelled people to do what they did. Kiyo could not but help to notice how you did seem to have a preference for specific tales, ones of trickery such as Odin and his many escapades. It was not for the aspects of humanity it explored, you seemed to simply enjoy it for yourself, something… quite rare.

·       All you did was for others. That selfish love of being the one to protect others or bring them joy, that part of you reminded him so much of his classmate Kirumi, so much so, he introduced you two, thinking you could get along well together, and that he was right on. You and Kirumi instantly clicked, often meeting with one another, exchanging advice and stories. You allowed Kirumi to assist you when you were leading your classmates in study or work and even went out of your way to seek her out. You both did what you loved out of this, assisting others and leading them into becoming their best selves. Seeing such a friendship blossom was extraordinary, especially so between two amazing individuals such as yourselves.

·       You seemed to change a little after meeting Kirumi. You were still stark and quiet, rarely speaking, but on occasion he found you’d just sit beside him as he read or went about his own business, both keeping to yourselves while still keeping one another company. Soon though you became more direct. “Follow me.” And that he did, even keeping in time with your foot falls. Soon he found himself on the field where Kaito, Shuichi and Maki were as well. “Oh, Shinguji’s your new sidekick?” “…” “Alright then! Let’s get to training!” Every evening there after you had brought Korekiyo to those raining sessions, strictly making sure he improved every day. Then you also took him to watch Himiko’s magic shows, play tennis with Ryoma, whom Korekiyo thought would not play the sport again till he spotted you speaking with the man, of course a person like you could lead Ryoma back to his old passions. You got Kiyo to regularly spend time with just about everyone, one day he’d be playing piano with Kaeda as he discussed the history of the piece they were playing, the next you and he were in a week long prank war with Kokichi.

·       “Here.” Kiyo looked between you and the clothing you had passed to him, most notably those boots. “Be at the front gate of the school dressed in these in half an hour.” Without another word you simply left. When he got to the gate you simply walked away from him to follow. You went hiking. “Winded already?” “N-No… Just… catching my breath.” “I know you can do better, keep up.” You simply marched on as Kiyo tried keeping up. Eventually you had reached the top of the small mountain. “Ah, the city.” You could clearly see it, along with Hope’s Peak. “Keep up hiking. Seeing the greenery should be enough motivation to keep going.” “Oh, you won’t be joining me? I may forget, you know.” “You will not. I train all those under me to be independent and be able to survive without me.” “… So, you’re saying you won’t be around?” “…” You didn’t speak for a moment, your gaze unwavering from the city with your arms crossed. “All day every day you simply tended to your books and artifacts or watch others. You care not for your own health. That cannot do. I… I wish you to survive and have connections. And I certainly believe you wish to live to see the beauty of humanity firsthand. That you cannot do when dead or bed ridden from lack of caring for yourself. Even if introverted, humans are social creatures, so you need to speak with others on occasion on topics other than your passions. You must learn of others, how they see the world in order to connect. Because of you and Kirumi, and others… I’ve learned that making connections is so vital, even if it will hurt in the end, some connections are worth making.” Finally, you locked eyes with him. “My country calls for me, I must protect them, but I… I wish to see you in particular… See you… thrive. Experience the beauty of humanity firsthand, no longer be a bystander. Become unrecognizable when next we meet, become the greatest person you can. Do not die, and do not stagnate. Keep improving and learn what you taught me.”

·       “I see, you shall be leaving then…” “… Hmm? What’s the matter, it’s unlike you to become so down cast.” “I have? Well… I love you. You are the most amazing person I have met. I’ve taken advantage of our time together, and seeing it… Y/N?” You still so stoically stood there, but your entire face was flushed pink. “you… love me… I, y-you can go on, why did you stop?” He laughed. He laughed in that almost strange way only he did. His eyes were half lidded, and you saw the crow’s feet in the corners. He was so clearly, gently smiling, you felt as if your heart would beat right out of your chest from the mere sight of it. “Adorable.” “I…” That blush only darkened and darkened, as you had instinctively taken a step back, fearing being so vulnerable in the moment, yet… liking it also. You… you never allowed yourself to be vulnerable like this, or at least so rarely did, you had almost forgotten the feelings. You buried your face into your hands. Kiyo simply took your hands into his own, gently leading them down so he could see that slightly wobbly smile, and the red that so elegantly dusted your cheeks.

·       Not even a week later and you disappeared as if you had never even attended the school. Despite the years that had passed Korekiyo made sure to stay connected too his high school classmates. Kiyo had taken to traveling with Rantaro who was searching for his sisters, Shuichi who was putting his detective skills to use in searching for them, and Kirumi who acted as Shuichi personal maid believing with the right assistance he could become a truly amazing person. They were a rather fun group to travel with. In the evenings when time permitted, he and Shuichi would do some exercises and reminisce on the training they had done in high school. Any time they found themselves in your home country, Kiyo couldn’t help but wonder how you were the whole time. Kiyo and Rantaro would often chat through the night when in your country, Rantaro of his sisters and Kiyo of you. They also spoke of the travels they had taken before high school. Being with them… it was simply amazing, and Kiyo was eternally thankful for all you had done for him, and he was the determined to not disappoint your expectations for when you’d meet next… you just had to meet again.

    Nagito Komaede:

·       Many were confused to see the Super High School Level Military General always hanging around Nagito; you never spoke with him, you didn’t even seem to like him, you were just always near him, even when he left campus you still followed him. Eventually rumors had begun sprouting up that the pair of you were in a relationship of some sort, but even that didn’t make sense. If any asked, you never said a word. Some asked Nagito but even he didn’t know, he just accepted the fact that you were around now.

·       “… Weapon, I can hold my tongue back no longer.” You spoke! Nagito was amazed! In your following him around, you had also dragged him around so that you could do your own work and though that Nagito saw your command in action over and over again, but with your gaze locked to his own, that sharp voice resonating deep within himself… the experience was unlike any other. “Am I to see you as human, or a weapon, I do not know any longer.” “Oh? A weapon?” “Yes, a weapon.”

·       Nagito felt his breath getting caught in his throat, his heart pounding against his rib-cage in a steady pace, like a taiko drum. It were as if his other senses had gone numb, they existed only for you, your intimidatingly kind visage, your solid unwavering voice, even touch, he could only feel the barest, slightest bit of your body heat. There was only you… So, THIS was the power of the Super High School Level Military General. No wonder all listened and heeded your every last breath.

·       “Clearly you hold no self-worth, always calling yourself ‘trash’, always doing everything you’re told by others you see as superior, us ‘Ultimates, beacons of hope’ as you’d phrase it. You have no drive or ambition other than pleasing ones you see as great… That…” You simply stared at him for a moment, you just didn’t move at all. “… I find myself compelled, compelled to take you under my wing, get you to see yourself for how truly amazing you are, and yet I too fear that. If you gain personhood, you would become the most dangerous weapon the world has ever known. You don’t just have luck, you can influence it and predict it to an extent. If you gained self-worth and ambition and decided to use your talent you could destroy the world single handedly. If you wanted too, and yet you are also just as dangerous in your current state. In this state you’d willingly go along with any and all who’d wish to use you as the weapon you are, and with no substantial will of your own, you would be used without fuss and all the while not worry about any destruction you’d cause, believing hope would overcome any despair or tragedy no matter how great. So… to attempt to give you will so you’d be less likely to be manipulated by others, or leave you as you are so you grow no ambition of your own. That is what I cannot decided. As I see you now, I know not what you think, if you gained any ambition what you could possibly want. My goal in life is to protect everyone, even my enemies, and you… You are the greatest threat I have ever met. Your ‘luck’… the travesty it could cause is worse than any atomic weapon I know of and I must be rid of you.” “… It sounds like you could solve this by killing me. Nobody could use me than and I wouldn’t be able to want to use my luck.” Many would find it strange just how matter-of-factly Nagito had stated that, and yet, being around him for so long you were not surprised.

·       What… what happened? Nothing about you had changed, and if you had, it was so subtle Nagito did not notice. He was terrified. Something in him screamed to run and hide, yet he was frozen. “Life is never to be weighed lightly. From the tinniest flea to the smartest and biggest whale. Life is never to be spoken of, let alone treated of so flippantly. Even that of your most despised and hated of enemies… At times, death is the only option, but if there are others that exist, they must be taken into account. Life… Life is the weightiest thing in existence. Never underestimate the impact the death of any single creature can have on everything. All life matters, even yours, though you yet to see it. You may deny it but heed my words. You matter. You matter more than you can ever realize. So, should there be a way to defuse the catastrophe that is laying dormant, only building more the longer you exist, I WILL find out how.” That terror that entrapped him faded and he felt as if he were gasping for breath after almost drowning. “You, I yet know what to do with, but for now we shall be retiring to my room so I may go through with planning.”

·       Then you turned and walked away. Nagito followed, in aw and amazement at you! You were truly a force to be reckoned with, simply astonishing! Though he didn’t believe he deserved it, if you saw fit to exchange so many words with him, he was truly honored. And he could not wait to see what decision you’d come too; he was quite looking forward to see what you were going to do to him.

·       “I need more data. I can not come to a conclusion. We shall proceed as we have before.” Despite saying that, things were never quite the same after that day. You would talk to him on occasion. Not much, but those brief exchanges were captivating none the less. Nagito became your assistant of sorts, keeping count as you did pushups or other exercises, or tidying up and cleaning so you could focus on more important things such as training yourself or others, perhaps even cooking or bringing you food so you didn’t have to interrupt that mental exercise you were trying out. Always being around you, he was kind of forced to pick up some of your habits in order to keep up, like trying to keep pace on your morning jogs. It became a sort of challenge for you to protect Nagito from his bad luck. You tried your damnest to stop the chaotic results no matter how small, whether it affected others or not.

·       Despite how Nagito always went on and on about how he was trash, you were impressed with how smart and capable he was, even going over military strategies with him. This quickly spread to other things. You started playing board games, seeing if your strategizing could out do the boy’s good luck, even playing luck-based games to challenge yourself into finding some strategy, even if it were underhanded. No matter what you tried though, Nagito was unflappable, much like yourself. Playing games with him became your favorite pastime- TRAINING! It was training… not for fun. Though relaxing is important, so plaything with him served a dual purpose… yeah, th-that’s it.

·       It was late spring on the cusp of summer. “Hey! Y/N! That’s thirty laps!” You waded in the water for a moment, catching your breath before allowing the crashing waves to push you to shore. As the gulls cawed you marched up the shore across the reds, purples, and oranges of the setting sun behind you so beautifully reflecting off the sand. There Nagito stood, a towel draped over his arm, a small bowl of ice cream in each hand. “A small burst of energy before I can get you a more calorie rich meal. “… I thank you.” Nagito simply passed you a bowl before patting your face with the towel, then wrapping it around you… Sometimes he wondered if you always had that light blush on your cheeks. He had been with you for so long, it was difficult to separate how you looked back when you first had met to now. He thought he’d remember, but he just wasn’t quite sure. Though he found himself deliberating on this because it seemed that blush was spreading… “Something the matter Boy? You’ve been staring for a while, and just… kind of holding the towel over my shoulders.” “a-ah! So, I have! I, I deeply and sincerely apologize. I just love yoooooouuuuu-” Oh no. “Your face! I love your face!... So much!” Internally Nagito was screaming about how he just let that slip out despite how he just so calmly smiled like this was an everyday occurrence. Truly, he was a mess of a person. “Y-you too?” Then you squeaked, realizing what you just said. And there you both just stood starting at one another. “Dinner, we’re supposed to get dinn… dinner…” “Y/N?” “Boy, how long have we been dating?” “Huh?” “We’ve been inseparable, and… we do more than train like watch movies an… stuff, so…” You then just walked away. “W-wait, Y/N!” “I can’t speak, I’m eating ice cream!”

·       Even after years the pair of you were still inseparable. The only time you seemed to be apart was when you went to war, but no matter the distance or trials you faced, you’d always return to him. As for Nagito… he thought this was for the best, after all, you were a humanitarian, if realistically possibly you’d protect life, so a person as dangerous as himself always under the watch of someone so amazingly strong… always protected by you from the world and even himself… the thought sent his heart a flight.

[bookandcranny]

SAUSAGE SIMULATOR 2000

A single short burst of light, sound, movement. A rhythmic throbbing of the arteries. A dry edible seed, rich in protein, belonging to the legume family. A palpitation of the neck or wrist. A common feature on a blender.

If one day you happen to find someone lying prone and unconscious, the first thing you’ll do is check for a pulse. But even when that signal, that faint tickle of motion is gone, the brain may yet live on for minutes. It may live on even longer.

summary: A surreal scifi horror set In Another Time, Another Place, in which the narrator reminisces on some events, real and dreamed, whole and fragmented, that occurred during their time attending high school alongside their best friend.

word count: 4.3k

content warnings: Insects, parental abandonment, descriptions of gore and body horror

🦗🦗🦗

We give thanks for the grain, for without it we would have no bread. We give thanks for the vermin, for without them we would have no meat. We give thanks for the machine, for without it we would have no work.

The work is to preserve the law. Without the law, the vermin would devour the grain. Without the law, the machine would devour the vermin. Without the law, man would devour the machine.

-----

Sive dissects his sandwiches layer by layer. He’s probably my best friend, but the guy is so weird sometimes. Regardless, these are the moments I remember the most.

We’re on a field trip, our entire grade; it’s one of the few times we get to hang out during school hours, since Sive is in Class C this year and I’m in A. When we break for lunch, he comes over to sit with me on the crumbling stone wall without either of us asking. I take two sandwiches out of my bag and hand him one. He peels it apart and starts licking mustard off a pallet of pink Bugmeat©️.

Maybe it’s now, maybe it’s later. The moments blend together in my recollection, blurred by the years and the medication. I seem to recall a couple of other friends from my class sitting with us, talking and laughing, but whenever Sive is around the world seems to narrow to a single point of focus. He has a way of commanding the room’s attention, with the oscillating pitch and volume of his voice and his swinging hands, illustrating the latest gossip with all the fervor of a street preacher.

In theory, I understand why some of the other kids are afraid of him. He’s taller than maybe anyone I’ve met and the way he hunches his shoulders makes him look sort of looming. The way he talks and the way he smiles, lip curling back into something more like a sneer, doesn’t help. But he’s my friend, has been since we were small, and I know he’s no more frightening than a field mouse. Besides, while he may be tall he’s also rail thin, skin sucking on his joints when he moves, now more than ever. He inhales his sandwich in seconds, even with the picking and fussing that proceeds it, so I give him half of mine too.

I kick my legs over the side of the wall, looking down at the sloping gray-green mountainside. There are a few masses of rock hovering alone, pushed and pulled by rich natural deposits of magnetic ore. I know this place, the sight of it if not the significance. My dad must have brought me once when I was little. He likes these old ruins, but I never got the appeal and can’t really be bothered to listen as the chaperoning teachers drone on and on about its history. I’ll just take some scans and make a recording to study for the test that’s sure to ensue and call it a day. Better yet, glom some notes off of Elege-- she’s got the good pods, and I know she likes me. Then Sive will glom it off of me. Circle of life.

A boy to my left, Tez Walker, unthinkingly wipes his sticky hands off on his uniform shirt. I watch him with a sort of morbid fascination and when I turn back around Sive’s looking at me like he’s waiting for my input on something.

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

He rolls his eyes, big gray eyes. “My mom wired me some more money so we can go to the video park after school. You in?”

“If you’ve got money to see shows, how come I’m buying your lunch?”

“Come on, I don’t have enough for food and streams and rent.”

I hum a non-answer. “When’s your mom gonna come back anyway? Did she say anything this time?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. I like living on my own anyway.” So long as nobody knows. It’s not technically legal, even though we’re both almost of age. I’m not even sure how he’s managed to keep it a secret thus far, big-mouth that he is. I might tease but I really don’t want to see him relocated to another district. It feels somewhat inevitable, with this being our last year and all, but I’m not ready to let go just yet.

“I’ll pay for the park if you use some of that money to get an exterminator,” I say, pointing at the reddened welt peaking out above his hip.

He pulls down his shirt with an almost guilty expression and laughs through his teeth. “Stop overreacting, it’s probably just acne.”

I give him a dubious look, and he meets it with another shrug.

“We eat bugs, bugs eat us. It’s only fair.” He flaps around the limp half-sandwich for emphasis.

I growl around a mouthful of my own. “Bugmeat©️ isn’t made of bugs. That’s crazy.”

“Uh huh, I think I see a leg in your teeth.”

I swing around and kick his ankle. “I’ll put a leg in your teeth.”

He laughs. He’s laughing. There’s mustard on the corner of his mouth. Yeah, these are the things I remember.

-----

A single short burst of light, sound, movement. A rhythmic throbbing of the arteries. A dry edible seed, rich in protein, belonging to the legume family. A palpitation of the neck or wrist. A common feature on a blender.

If one day you happen to find someone lying prone and unconscious, the first thing you’ll do is check for a pulse. But even when that signal, that faint tickle of motion is gone, the brain may yet live on for minutes. It may live on even longer.

-----

I’m in study hall going over vocab with Elege when I hear the news. One of the first to know and the last to believe it, and even then I don’t trust the way the others tell it. Sive has been in fights before, I know, but only because some kids go out of their way to pick on him. They see his face and his towering stature and it makes them think there’s something to prove there. But while you wouldn’t know it to look at the two of us, I’ve always been the one to squash ticks and spiders for him while he squirms. I can’t imagine him breaking anyone’s nose, especially not without a good reason.

I want to talk to him, to get the truth, but he’s sent home on the spot and when I try to call him after class all he gives me are these curt half-answers and a warning.

“Don’t come over,” he says. He tells me I was right. There’s something in his apartment, roaches or rats or maybe some crossbred mutation of the two. Whatever they are, they're big and they’re bloodthirsty and he doesn’t want me to risk getting bit.

“If your apartment is infested you need to tell someone,” I urge him.

“If I do that, they’ll realize I’ve been living alone and try to move me. This place might be a shithole, but it’s my home.”

“What are you gonna do then?”

There’s a sound in the background of the call, like something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.”

Over the days that follow I keep trying to reach Sive and eventually he agrees to meet me somewhere, just not the apartment. He hasn’t finished taking care of it, I guess.

We’ve been scoping out some of the abandoned buildings in the area for a while now, looking for a suitable lair. I first had the idea after we saw this show about urban explorers and modern treasure hunters scouring the skeletons of infested districts in their glimmering kevlar. One night at the park I even manage to glom a few episodes when no one’s looking and save them to my pod.

There’s this one part: One of the crew is walking in a precarious spot when the plates shift suddenly and clamp down around his ankle, crushing it until it more resembles sausage wrung out of its casing than anything human. The man screams and one of his teammates quickly cauterizes the flowering stump with a hot blade. He cleans and binds it and they keep moving, because staying put is more dangerous than pushing on with a missing limb. Sometimes when I’m restless at night, I mute that episode and play it on loop until I fall asleep.

All this to say, it’s not such a surprise when Sive tells me to meet him at the old annex attached to the east wing of the school. Supposedly they used to hold art classes and things like that over there before it got too expensive for them to keep it up. The few remaining cameras are in poor repair and the back entrance is mangled and rusty, making for easy entry. Sometimes the local pests will try to bite you there, but things will try to bite you everywhere and a thick pair of socks resolves the issue well enough. That’s the place where we’ll meet.

But that’s not how it happens. I push past the broken lock with ease and call his name, to no answer. There’s a pink twilight settling over the campus, refracting through tall tinted panes of stained glass. I walk from one end of the building to the other until I come upon the old music room, nothing left inside it but a dusty grand piano and shards of crystalline debris that crunch under my feet. The classroom is/was built like a fishbowl, windows all along the hallway so visitors could look in on the students without letting out the music.

I pick up one big piece of glass and hold it up to the light, but when I turn it around I only see myself, staring darkly. I wait and I wander, but it’s always just me. I leave when it begins to grow dark and I hear something moving in the empty halls.

-----

That’s one thing I remember. Here’s another:

I’m walking from the bus stop with Sive, just Sive. Just us. His eyes are bright and bruised with red. There’s a new cluster of those little bumps crawling up the far side of his neck, but he keeps that side of himself turned away from me. My parents aren’t home yet and I don’t have any plans so I walk with him all the way to his building.

It’s a squat concrete cube with littler cubes inside it, just like any of them. There’s some moss or lichen or something growing in the cracks, and at this time of night it looks almost like mold.

“Do you want to go inside?” I ask, when he lingers on the steps.

He shakes his head, silent in the way he never is. Something's clearly weighing on him. We go around the back to the parking garage and climb up onto the overhang. Sitting here, on a clear night like tonight, you can see everything from the Bug Burger to the distant radio tower. The moon sits bloated and bulging against the city skyline, an egg sac fit for bursting. Sive scratches the back of his knee. Our twin breaths turn to ghosts in the February air.

Sive turns and asks me, “Do you know what you’re going to do after graduation?”

“I guess.” My parents both went to the same college when they were my age, so I’ll be going there too. No reason not to turn down any advantage I can get. My grades aren’t bad, but they aren’t great either, and neither is our area code. “Did you pick a school?”

He doesn’t answer, which is an answer in and of itself. I try to change the subject and wind up spitting out the first thing I can think of.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“No.” He won’t elaborate.

“When are you coming back to school?”

“Soon.”

“Did you really fight those guys?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Sive looks at me annoyed and instead of answering he says, “A counselor talked to me the day I got suspended. Did you know that?”

I  don't. I didn’t.

“I was leaving the principal’s office and she took me aside and told me that with my record I might want to consider a future in security.”

My breath seizes in my chest. Suddenly I feel like I’m the one who was punched. “But you’re not gonna do it, right?”

The pause that follows feels like an eternity. “Nah, of course not,” he lies.

This isn’t actually the first time we’ve spoken about this, I recall. One night, after a particularly rough exam, he says something like, “At this rate I should just volunteer for security.” It’s a careless sentence, a tactless joke, but I laugh or pretend to laugh, assured he means nothing by it.

“It’ll turn around,” I tell him, and in the moment, I mean it with all my heart.

-----

On the day Sive returns to school, he gets written up for a uniform violation. I never know for sure why. Could be anything, an untucked shirt or an ink stain seeping through his pocket. Laundry and mending costs money, money that I know he doesn’t have since he stopped letting me buy him lunch. I try, but when I bring it up he says he hasn’t been hungry, and as improbable as it sounds I don’t think it’s a lie, at least not entirely. He must have found something else to eat.

We don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about it at all.

-----

“I don’t love you, not like a partner, maybe like a brother. I’ve never had a brother, or any siblings for that matter. It’s always been just me. Except not really. No one is ever really alone. All you have to do is look around, look inside. Inside, there’s all this movement, all this warmth. And you see? That’s the cause of it all. It was in us from the start. It’s not even just the food we eat or the shows we watch, it has always been there.

“Did you know? I returned to our meeting place, that great vestigial organ, but I don’t think you could see me. You only saw your own reflection. It almost made me doubt that you were ever there at all. I don’t love you, but if you asked, I’d do just about anything for you. We didn’t used to need to ask, but right now, I really wish you would.”

-----

I don’t see my friend much these days. Weeks pass, then months. Sometimes he comes to school, enough to keep the threat of investigation at bay, but-- and I don’t know how to explain this, but even when he’s here he’s also not. Or maybe he is, and he’s just hiding from me.

I keep looking for him right up until the final day, but even then we’re divided by class and I can’t pick out his face in the crowd of all our classmates. We file into the gymnasium where someone’s set up a little wooden stage with a scuffed red carpet draped over the frame and opened all the doors, filtering out some of the stifling, sweaty air and letting in the summer scents of hot asphalt mingling with freshly laid turf.

It’s a bit embarrassing to admit I don’t remember much of my highschool graduation. It seems like one of those things you’re supposed to remember, to hold and cherish years down the line, but in the moment all I know is it’s hot and crowded and I am painfully bored. The principal and vice principal stand up and give some speech while the students fiddle impatiently with their heavy, itchy robes. A girl standing in front of me quickly applies another layer of makeup to a bubbling red patch of acne on her chin. I watch her for longer than I like to admit before tearing my eyes away to search for Sive again.

He’s nowhere to be seen, but he has to be here. No one misses graduation because no one doesn’t graduate, no matter what other infractions they may have committed. My name is called, I receive my diploma, and that’s all. I return to my place and wait. I wait for one thing even as I tumble blindly towards another.

As the ceremony crawls to a close, the principal returns to the lectern at the center stage. He says,

“Before we wrap things up, I have one final announcement. This year a number of our graduates will honor their community by volunteering for the city security tract. Will the following students please come to the stage.”

My heart pounds. I know before I know, still I don’t start screaming until I hear his name get called. The animal grief punctures my lungs and bleeds out my throat in a rushing torrent, clawing and scraping. My classmates and their families all around me barely seem to react. At most they exchange some fleeting glances of pity and annoyance as I fall to my knees.

Someone touches my shoulders, to comfort or to quiet, then I’m being dragged away. Someone or many someones; I don’t know but I like to think I put up a fight. If I try hard enough, it might turn out different this time.

-----

I have this recurring nightmare sometimes. In it, I see myself, or the figment of myself projected into my own mind by an outside eye. Through that narrow watery lens, I see it/me standing in a beam of light. I’m hosting one of those nighttime shows where they used to read the lotto numbers. There’s a big lottery spinner made up of opaque, milky polygons and it tumbles with a sound like chattering teeth.

I turn the crank around and around and when the device finally spins to a stop it flails in my direction a sort of wet nozzle appendage whose shape reminds me of a shower head. I wrap my hands around its vermiform neck and wring a number from the puckered opening, but when I hold up the little white ball to call the winner, the number begins to morph and multiply into a string of numbers, and letters, and symbols I don’t recognize. I can’t divine the meaning and so I start to cry.

The ball splits open.

-----

NO NO NO NO STOP STOP IT NO NO NO STOP NO

-----

Ears ringing, vision swimming, I can barely make out my friend’s face as he steps out onto the stage. I writhe, I howl. I try to make him change his mind. Surely it’s not too late, I think. And I’m sure he hears me. He turns toward the crowd and as I’m pulled through the double doors I desperately will him to see me. He never meets my gaze.

Anyway, that’s all I remember. That, and one other thing but I promise, it will not bring you satisfaction.

-----

After I complete my first semester, I catch a train and vow to spend at least a few days pretending to enjoy my winter break back home before I ultimately retreat into the cradle of my studies. It’s strangely nostalgic to be here, even though chronologically speaking I haven’t actually been gone for very long. Time holds no dominion over feeling, however, no matter what people might tell you.

I am changed. I know that, I think I do. It’s all subjective I guess but the way I speak, the way I carry myself, even the way I dress has changed-- more pale patterned shirts, less muddy sneakers. My mom says I’m just in the process of acclimating myself to college life, that she went through the same thing when she was my age, and I don’t really have much choice but to believe her. Call it growing pains, I guess. Call it a new chapter, a fresh start. Call it anything that keeps you comfortable while you roll around in bed at night.

As I walk around the place I’ve known all my life, I find myself mesmerized by the sight of my white breath dissolving against the cornflower blue sky. I can’t remember the last time I saw a sky so clear. Maybe it’s that succoring sense of reminiscence that draws me back to the grounds of my old highschool. More realistically, it’s probably something to do with my recent change in medication. I’m technically not supposed to be walking alone like this yet; my head gets all fuzzy and I’m liable to get confused. The past bleeds into the present and back and forth and back again like a swinging pendulum, although that analogy, I realize, attaches an impression of consistency to the idea that the reality rarely lives up to.

It’s not all bad though. My focus has improved, and I’m sleeping less but I don’t feel as tired. My math scores have gone up by an average of seven points.

The path is still so familiar to me I could walk it blind, and I don’t realize just where I’ve come until I’m standing outside the front gate. It’s locked, for obvious reasons. Upon a second glance I notice that the school buildings themselves look quite different than I remember them. The dilapidated annex has finally been torn down for one thing. Disappointing. I linger regardless, tracing the perimeter, trying to put a name to this distant feeling of unease.

A shadow passes over my eyes and I smell rot. Rounding a corner I see a cluster of massive, chittering vermin gnawing on the fence where it’s gone red from oxidation. From a distance, from the right angle, their undulating black backs make it look as though the pavement is breathing.

Distantly, I know I should be afraid, but the fear doesn’t quite make it through the veil. One insectoid catches sight of me and rears back, flaring its rear wings and giving me a gurgling hiss of warning.

Before I can react, a security drone-- one of the Angel series, if I’m not mistaken-- descends upon the vermin and carves through them a gory swath of bright pink gristle. Their scattered serrated bits stay twitching where they lay. Some other dispatch from city security will be by in time to clean up the remains.

The bugs are getting so much bigger than they used to be. I have a theory about that actually, but there’s no one I feel like telling it to. It’s sad. This used to be a nice neighborhood.

The Angel series are still a pretty new breed, a hot commodity, recently introduced to the district in the wake of some new hives popping up. It’s honestly fascinating to see one up close like this, and more than a little frightening. At least eight feet of perfect patented genes, of muscle and metal, circuits like the most delicate seams running up the length of its thick fibrous limbs.

It starts to walk away, its work complete, and suddenly I feel this pressing need to stop it. It’s indescribable, the need, an emotion so strong after blank, dreamlike months that it's like a physical probing in my lower stomach. I stagger and trip in my haste, scraping the palm of my hand where I catch myself. The scent of blood emboldens some more common pests, tiny slug-like masses that poke up their pulsing head through the cracks and wriggle from the ground to get a taste. The drone exterminates them with ease as well. All the while I am searching the impassive Angel’s face for some sign of emotion, of recognition.

Bioengineering isn't exactly my field, but I’m not stupid. No, stupid's not the word-- naive. I know it may likely be only a small part of him in there, if anything at all, split into individual strands and laced throughout the makeup of a dozen distinct living machines. Security is very efficient, threshing away the superfluous husk of personality and, like a pot of simmering fat, rendering their creations down to the most basic, most useful parts. Only then are the fresh-cooked soldiers that come out the other side of this procedure truly ready to protect us.

There’s no reason to believe whatever shred of him that remains should know me. Still, selfish creature that I am, I stare into his/its featureless not-face and I search for my friend one more time. I search for big lip-curling smiles, patchy teenage stubble, gray eyes bright with laughter or tears. I would have him any way. I would have him on the worst days: dirty and hungry, bruised and bloodied and bug-bitten. I could even love him, I think. I could love him.

“Sive?” I ask. There’s a quiet rasp to my voice, a wavering uncertainty that shames me even now.

The Angel does not respond, but neither does it turn away.

“Look at me,” I beg, staring into my own reflection in the darkened visor. “Look at me.”

Another few drones drop down across the green, summoned by a signal from their kin. There’s a distressed civilian in need of escort. Of course, of course. These chimerical android creatures are almost completely identical, masses of matching sinew growing like vines around the mass-produced metal hulls, and nothing throbbing inside them but a singular purpose. I realize, abruptly, my foolishness and allow myself to be herded off the premises.

I’d like to say I looked back. Someone like me, forever sick with sentiment? Of course I would look back. That’s not what this is though. This is not closure. This is not an ending, not an exit or an epilogue. The food chain we worshiped back then was as immutable as it was self-serving, a rare form of autocannibalism that feeds everyone and nourishes no one. These still-twitching remains are, as I well know, just a memory.

[tsukkiscake]

what goes on || tsukki x reader || ch. 11

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✰ wordcount: 3.3k

During your middle school years, you were always in advanced classes. This meant being in class with some of the same kids every year. Tsukishima Kei was one of them. You guys had been in the same class for all of middle school. At the end of your last semester of middle school, you hear Tsukishima and another one of your classmates, Yamaguchi Tadashi, discussing their plans to attend Karasuno High School. Looks like another year of Tsukishima for you. This year, you were determined to become at least his friend. This was proving to be a lot harder than you originally intended.

Chapter Eleven: Adore You

It was finally the first day of the Inter-High Tournament. You woke up with fond memories of the night before when Tsukki had come over. You smiled and glanced out your window at the street painted blue with an early morning glow. You stretched your arms and yawned, not wanting to get out of your comfy bed but knowing you had a train to catch soon. 

You climbed out of bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom to begin getting ready. You went through your usual morning routine but decided to change up your hair for the day. You opted for a half-up-half-down hairstyle with little clips adorning your hair. You took one final glance in the mirror, happy with how you looked.

Though the summer heat was in full force, the evenings and early mornings in Sendai could get chilly, so you opted to wear a pair of high-waisted, blue paperbag shorts with a white t-shirt. You grabbed a cardigan to wear in case the cool air was too much. You grabbed the bag of clothes you had packed the night before, along with your phone, headphones, and wallet. You pulled up your messages with Ichiko and sent a short message telling her you were about to leave for Sendai. 

Ichiko had promised to meet you at the train station and walk you to the Sendai City Gymnasium, however, she couldn’t stay for the matches due to having piano lessons on Saturdays. You walked out of your room and to the kitchen, grabbing the bentos you had made the previous night to bring today. You made two, one for breakfast on the train and one for lunch at the gym. You tucked them neatly into your bag and grabbed your house keys before getting ready to leave. You slipped on your white trainers and left the house, locking the door behind you. 

Your train was due to leave in forty-five minutes and you were a twenty minute walk from the station. You put on your headphones and shuffled your favorite mix to get ready for the day ahead. 

You arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare, but it was too early for many of the shops to be open so you pulled out your phone and decided to send Tsukki a goodmorning/good luck text. 

New Message

To: tsukki

good morning tsukki! be sure to eat a healthy breakfast! i’m rooting for you today! 

You took a photo of yourself doing peace signs to send with the text message. You smiled at your phone screen and sent the message before mindlessly scrolling through different apps, waiting for the train to come. You sat contently as Adore You by Harry Styles rang through your headphones. 

Honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

___________________________________

After the forty-five minute train ride, which you fell asleep on, you were in Sendai. It was currently 8:30 in the morning and the matches weren’t due to begin for a couple of hours. You looked around the Sendai station, searching for any signs of Ichiko. You had texted her before leaving but never got a response, hopefully she remembered the time of your train. 

After searching for a couple of minutes, you were about ready to give up and walk to the gymnasium on your own, but you saw Ichiko running at you at full force. Her hair was in a messy bun and it looked like she was still in pajamas. 

You laughed slightly as you removed your headphones to greet her. 

“Did you just wake up?”

Ichiko kneeled over, hands on her knees as she took heavy breaths. “Yes, you should’ve CALLED me when you were getting close to Sendai, you know how I always oversleep,” Ichiko whined and stood up straight, regaining her composure only momentarily before tackling you in a hug. “It’s so good to see you again, I missed you.” 

You laughed and returned her hug. “I’m glad to see you too, it would’ve been better if you had been on time to the station but it’s okay, I’ll forgive you, because I love you,” you smiled as Ichiko finally released her grip on you. 

She smiled and poked your cheek, a gesture you guys had started when you were both young that never went away. “I love you too, (Y/N)-chan,” she looped her arm through yours and began to walk you in the direction of the gymnasium. “I’m starving, do you want to get something to eat before I drop you off at the gym?” Ichiko asked. 

“I had a bento on the train, but I could go for some tea!” You smiled at her and she smiled back. 

“Great! I know this adorable little cafe on the way to the gym that serves tea and breakfast,” she laughed and sped up her walking pace, essentially dragging you alongside her. 

“Okay, okay, don’t tug my arm off Ichi-chan.” 

___________________________________

You and Ichiko were sitting outside of a small book cafe, you had ordered a hot green tea while Ichiko ordered two pastries as well as a smoothie. You were sipping your tea while Ichiko slurped down her smoothie, watching the people of Sendai walk by. It was so nice being in a cityscape. Everything near your house was just the boring old countryside.

“So which boy on the volleyball team do you like?” Ichiko asked. 

You felt your cheeks heat up immediately at her question. “W-why do you think I like any of them?” You wanted the question to come out as offended and strong, but it came out sounding embarrassed and shocked, like she knew something you didn’t want her to. You didn’t like anyone on the volleyball team, but for some reason your thoughts wandered to how you and Tsukki had hung out last night. 

“Why else would you come all the way to Sendai for a volleyball game? It’s not even an interesting sport to watch,” Ichiko scoffed and laughed. She figured she had struck a nerve with her question. 

“For your information, volleyball is very fun to watch. This isn’t my first time watching the team, plus I help out at practices sometimes,” you tried your best to avoid her initial question. 

“Stop avoiding my question (Y/N)-chan, I know you too well for you to try,” she laughed again. 

“I don’t like anyone on the team, I’m just friends with them. Two of the first year players are in my class at school, that’s how I got to know the team,” you shrug, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Hmmm, okay. But I don’t believe you. Guess I’ll have to figure it out at tomorrow’s match, if they make it that far,” Ichiko took a bite out of her chocolate pastry. 

“You’re coming to the match tomorrow?” You asked, not expecting Ichiko to want to come. She just said volleyball was boring and her schedule was usually extremely busy. 

“Well, duh. I gotta meet this boy you’re in love with and I wanna spend more time with you!” She laughed and shoved your shoulder. “If you’re here to watch volleyball games, I’ll be there with you. Other than today of course, my parents won’t let me skip piano even though I don’t need lessons anymore,” she sighed with exasperation. 

“Your parents don’t want you to forget you’re a prodigy,” you laughed. Ichiko had been an extremely talented piano player when you met her and she only got better through grade school. You watched her win awards and play recitals all over the country. “Also I’m not in love with anyone on the team, I just told you that,” you sighed with frustration, but you could never stay mad at Ichiko. She was just too lovable. 

“We’ll see,” she laughed and finished her second pastry. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the gym before I go to my lessons,” Ichiko stood up, dusted the crumbs off of her pajamas and offered a hand to you. “Lets go, (Y/N)-chan.” 

You smiled up at her and grabbed her hand. You guys walked like that, hand-in-hand, for the majority of the way to the gymnasium. You noticed some funny looks from passersby, but didn’t mind. Ichiko made you feel like everything was okay, and you didn’t want to let go. 

You guys approached the gym and she finally let go of your hand. 

“Okay, okay, do you have an estimated time of when you’ll be done? I’ll try my best to come pick you up so you don’t get lost,” Ichiko smiled at you. 

“I’m not really sure, I think the afternoon games start at 1:30 so if our team gets to the second game they should be done around 3:30 or 4:00 I think. I’ll text you updates,” you smiled back at Ichiko. Being around her made you forget the loss of your mom. It made you feel like a child again. 

“Hmm, okay I’ll try to be here at 3:00 and if they’re still playing, I can stay and watch with you. Now I gotta run, I’ll be late to piano if I don’t. I love you, (Y/N)-chan. Root for your team for me!” Ichiko wrapped you in a bear hug before running off the way you had come.

You watched her leave before approaching the gymnasium. There were so many teams milling around the outside of the gym, your eyes began to scan the crowds for a certain lanky, blonde male. 

Once you spotted Tsukki, standing out above the crowd, even in a sea of tall boys, you smiled and began to walk towards the team. Hinata was the first to notice you. 

“(Y/N)!” Hinata yelled and ran over to you, jumping like a maniac. 

You laughed and patted his orange hair. “Hi, Hinata. It’s good to see you too.”

The rest of the team began to approach you as well. You smiled at everyone and greeted them. 

“Thank you for the treats, (Y/N), the entire team appreciated them. But how come you weren’t able to give them to use yourself? Yamaguchi said you weren’t in school for the day either,” Daichi gave you his concerned dad look. You smiled at his kindness. 

“I wasn’t feeling too well yesterday, I think I stayed up too late baking,” you laughed and quickly glanced at Tsukki. You were glad he hadn’t told anyone about your argument yesterday. 

“Well we all really liked the melon bread, especially Tanaka, he kept raving about it,” Daichi laughed. 

You glanced over at Tanaka and saw his cheeks were pink. “Melon bread is my favorite food and it was a nice treat, what about it?” He yelled and you laughed. 

“I’m glad you liked it Tanaka-senpai. I’ll be sure to make extra for you next time,” you smiled at him and he looked like his brain had short circuited. 

Daichi laughed and gave you another small smile. “Alright everyone, let’s get inside and get checked in. The first match is in forty-five minutes.” 

You watched as Nishinoya and Ennoshita pushed a broken Tanaka towards the doors and Hinata and Kageyama tried to race. As everyone else began to walk towards the doors, you caught up with Tsukki and tried to walk next to him, his long legs allowed for lengthy strides, however, and you struggled to match his pace. 

“Will you slow down you idiot bean pole? I’m trying to walk with you,” you huffed. 

“I don’t walk next to runts,” Tsukki said, as he slowed his strides to match your pace. 

“Whatever, softie. You love to walk with me,” you smirked in victory up at him. He glared down at you, but his eyes were soft. 

“Whatever,” he huffed. 

You smiled and walked with him in a comfortable silence. While Ichiko made you feel like a child without any problems, Tsukki made you feel like you weren’t alone in dealing with them. Being around him made the burden feel so much lighter, as if the load was being shared by the two of you. 

“You better win today, I’m counting on being able to come see matches today and tomorrow. My friend Ichi-chan might even come so you guys gotta be good,” you shoved him slightly as the two of you walked behind the rest of the team. 

“Well now that I know some random friend of yours is coming, we’ve gotta win huh?” He shoved you back, harder, making you stumble as you walked. 

“Hey! I just thought I’d give you more reasons to want to win, no need to shove me,” you huffed and turned your nose up at him. “If you’re gonna be like that, maybe I’ll just root for the opposing team and hope they beat you guys into a pulp so I can go hangout with my friend for the day,” you let out a dramatic sigh before laughing. 

“Whatever, I don’t care what you do,” he stated, before looking at you with kind eyes. You noticed that in public, Tsukki only seemed to smile with his eyes, not letting the uninterested look on his face change all that much. 

“Sure you don’t,” you smiled and almost walked into Nishinoya who had stopped short in front of you. You glanced around Nishinoya, trying to get a view of what made the team stop. Up ahead, in teal and white tracksuits was a school you didn’t know about. “Who’s that?” You whispered to Tsukki. 

“Aoba Johsai High School. One of Kageyama’s upperclassmen is on that team and he’s apparently a really good setter. We played a practice match against them and won but I think we won because Oikawa, the good setter, wasn’t there for the majority of the game.” 

“Oh, so you guys are like rivals?” You asked him. 

“I guess you could say that. But they’re almost always the second best in the prefecture. They have a way better team than we do, I don’t know if we can beat them and Oikawa,” Tsukki said, looking over the crowd towards the other team. 

“Well you don’t know if you’ll lose until the final ball touches the ground,” you nudged him softly. “Don’t get all scared now, you guys are gonna kill it.” 

“I’m not scared, there’s no need to be. What happens will happen,” Tsukki shrugged. 

“You should be more enthusiastic than that Mr. Apathetic,” you sighed and shook your head at Tsukki’s disinterested attitude. Daichi clapped his hands to get the team's attention. 

“Okay guys! Official warm-ups start in 30 minutes, I want everyone stretched and loose, ready for the first game. Remember, focus on the opponent at hand before you start worrying about the next opponent!” Daichi pulled everyone into a huddle for a pre-warm-up chant. You stepped back, not wanting to intrude on their team traditions. 

You watched as everyone put their heads together and yelled “Karasuno, FIGHT!” 

___________________________________

The second set against Tokonami High School was currently underway and you were watching intently. You cheered each time Karasuno scored and gave them waves when the boys glanced up at you. Tsukki had been adamantly avoiding your gaze which made you feel frustrated, but you still continued to cheer extra hard for him. You watched as Karasuno increased their lead against Tokonami. 

You admired the boys of the volleyball team, they gave one hundred percent effort in each of their plays. 

Before you knew it, the second set was wrapping up with Karasuno winning 25 to 14. It was before noon, so you knew the boys had some time to cool down and eat lunch before their next game at 1:30. You smiled down at the team before grabbing your things and running down to meet them in the gym lobby. 

You jumped off the last stair and began running through the crowds of people to the doors to the court. You stopped and watched the boys walk through the doors, an air of victory surrounding them. You smiled to yourself and you could just tell how proud they were. 

You walked over to them with the widest smile on your face. Nishinoya and Tanaka were there to greet you first. The two boys jumped towards you to give you high-fives. You used both hands to give each of them a high-five while praising them on a game well played. 

“You guys were so awesome, you did so well!” You gave them a big smile and they both looked ready to pass out from receiving praise from you. They smiled sheepishly at one another and wandered off. 

You greeted and gave congratulations to each player. After having attended so many practices, you were getting used to all of the team members and they were all getting used to you. Tsukki and Yamaguchi were the last two to walk through the gym doors and you gave Yamaguchi a high-five and congratulated him, even though he hadn’t played in the game. 

You stood in front of Tsukki, looking up at him, and gave him the biggest smile you could muster. 

“Good job, Tsukki. I’m proud of you,” you gave him a thumbs up. 

He scoffed and walked around you. “I don’t need praise from a runt,” even though his words were laced with their usual coldness, he put a hand on top of your head and ruffled your hair slightly. 

You giggled softly at how he ruffled your hair. “Fine, if you don’t want praise, I’ll make sure to tell everyone, except you, that they played well,” you turned your nose up at him and began to walk towards Kageyama and Hinata, who were having some random competition in the middle of the walkway. 

Tsukki stopped you by putting his hand back on your head. “I was kidding, you loser,” he said. He leaned down so his mouth was close to your ear and whispered, “Don’t stop. You help me play better.” 

You could feel your cheeks heating up at his words. You couldn’t manage to form any words so you just nodded and mumbled something incoherent. 

Why did Tsukki have that effect on you? Why was he able to scramble all of your thoughts with a simple seven words? 

Tsukki removed his hand and began to walk towards his team, leaving you frozen. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the lingering feeling of Tsukki’s breath against your ear. 

You sighed and then took quick steps in order to catch up to Tsukki. You walked by his side silently. Thoughts of Ichiko’s questions about who you liked on the volleyball team suddenly filled your mind. You glanced up at Tsukki and thought about how he made you feel versus the rest of the team. 

Everything with Tsukki could be so complicated though. Just yesterday morning he was upset with you but by the end of the day he was at your house eating dinner with you. You thought about the emotional rollercoaster your friendship was with Tsukki. It made you smile, though, thinking of the moments you two had shared. 

But that didn’t mean you liked him. Tsukki just knew how to press your buttons in the right way. That’s the type of person Tsukki was, he loved to press the buttons of the people around him. 

You sighed, frustrated by your feelings. You definitely didn’t like Tsukki. 

Right? 

✰ I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING FOR SO LONG I HAVE BEEN SO BUSY AND HAVE HAD NO MOTIVATION IM SO SORRY ⊙﹏⊙

✰ but here’s a nice long chapter for your enjoyment 😌

✰ thank you so much for 167 followers on here and over 1200 hits on ao3 im so soft i’m so glad you guys like the story so much,,, again im so sorry for not updating for so long i’ve been in a not so good head place recently and this story was not my top priority for the meantime 

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[willow-lane]

I saw [WILLOW LANE] at a coffee shop in [BROOKLYN] today. I forgot how much [SHE] looks like [MADELYN CLINE]. They are a [TWENTY-THREE] year old [WAITRESS] who’s been in NYC for [A YEAR] now. Every time we run into each other, they are always [SPONTANEOUS AND FREE SPIRITED] but I’ve heard people say they can also be [NON-COMMITTAL AND SELF-INDULGENT]. [OUT OF THE BLUE BY KATIE PRUITT] reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio. / @villagestart​

Hello everyone! I’m Ella and I’m super excited to be part of this roleplay and introduce Willow to all of you, she’s a new muse but she’s based on an old muse of mine so I think I have her figured out or mostly lol. I’d love to plot with all of you, so please like this or hmu. If you want my discord, I’d be happy to give it to you, just ask :D

basics

NAME: ava willow lane

NICKNAME: will, lolo, pillow

GENDER: cis female

PLACE OF BIRTH: burlington, vermont

DATE OF BIRTH: september 28, 1997

AGE: twenty-three

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

OCCUPATION: waitress

NEIGHBORHOOD: brooklyn

background

Burlington was a dream within a dream, the station next to heaven. A town in love with itself and whose residents gloated about the wooded land, creased by hills, and threaded by streams. 

The Lanes were living the typical American dream: the big house with the white picket fence, a large backyard and two perfect children. It was dreamlike.

Their kids could count themselves lucky and Willow Lane certainly did for most of her life. As the youngest daughter of a successful surgeon and a renowned psychotherapist who taught at the University of Vermont, she was taught that receiving an education was the only way to get ahead in life.

Her parents made sure to set their kids to success and while most of the kids from her street were out there playing, she was holed up in her room, reading the stacks of encyclopedia books her parents bought me for her birthday. 

As a young child, Willow was filled with a sense of wonder, and encouraged by her curious personality she wanted to learn everything.

By the time she was in the sixth grade, she was smarter than most of the kids in her class, still her parents reminded her every day that she must outrank them all. Her parents took pride in her achievements. They were quick to boast about it in public, but they remained strict in private. Anything less than gold didn’t deserve a place on the wall.

Her afternoons were always full. Whether it was ballet class, french lessons, piano lessons or soccer practice. She had no time for herself.

Then high school started and by then she was overworked. Tired of chasing perfection and only being met with a “try harder”. 

TW: DRUGS, ADDICTION, VOMIT MENTION, PANIC ATTACK: While she was still number one at her school, it was taking everything in her to keep it that way. Her parents didn’t know about those panic attacks she suffered at night or how she threw up before any competition. To them, she was handling well and she was very good at pretending but she also had a little secret. In her sophomore year, she was introduced to Adderall and she was quickly hooked. END OF TW

When she got accepted into a prestigious university, her parents didn’t hesitate to brag about how their kid would attend an Ivy League but Willow was mortified. 

Back in Burlington, she was the biggest fish in the sea but at Princeton there were students who were better and shone brighter than her. 

Maybe it was because she was suddenly cast into a whole new world that was so different from the one she grew up in. Maybe it was because she had harbored a bit of resentment towards her parents for her wasted youth. Whatever it was, by the end of her freshman year, university had swallowed her up. 

TW ALCOHOL, DRUGS, DEPRESSION She got into a bad crowd, drank herself into oblivion, partied harder than anyone, and developed a penchant for bad boys who were much older than her. All this while trying to maintain a perfect GPA. Thanks to her magic pill, she was able to function and not feel guilty about not being as perfect as her parents wanted her to be. After all, she was only trying to recover the freedom that they took from her. 

But this coping mechanism only turned to worse. The more she tried to drown her feelings in alcohol, the harder it came to bite her in the ass. It was clear as water: Willow Lane, picture perfect daughter, was depressed and had been for a while, and now it had caught up to her. 

She was fighting a battle she was slowly losing. Willow was in a constant state of helplessness, staring into the void, and completely unable to pull herself out of it. If it hadn’t been for the upbringing she had, she would have been completely fine with self-destruct. END OF TW

The summer after her freshman year, she came back home and decided to have a talk with her parents. Her parents sat across the table, and they were not celebrating the end of a successful first semester, instead, they were fuming with betrayal. 

Willow told them that she had dropped most of her classes and she explained to them how she was exhausted beyond repair. They were displeased, so disappointed that looking at them was painful. For the first time in their life, their perfect daughter had failed them.

By the end of the evening, her father was livid. Threatened her that if she didn’t take more classes and got excellent grades he would stop paying her tuition. That’s when it hit her. To her parents, she was nothing but an object, an accomplishment to brag about to her friends. That was not love, that was selfish and a wake up call.

She packed up her stuff that evening, went back to Princeton and emptied her dorm as well as she dropped out completely. 

Freedom at last. With only a few bucks in her account, she bought a random bus ticket that took her to Montreal, Canada where she stayed for a couple of weeks, while working as a waitress before she moved to a new location. For the past three years, Willow has been living off a backpack. 

She moved to New York a year ago, but she comes and goes. Whenever she gets bored or too attached to someone she escapes. 

She’s been clean for three years when it comes to Adderall, although she still drinks but only socially.

personality

Despite her strict upbringing, Willow is a free-spirit! She’s always looking for a new adventure and she wants to live her life to the fullest, she doesn’t care about rules or schedules. She lives a pretty hedonistic lifestyle, always chasing a high in life and sometimes that makes her take some reckless decisions. A naturally loving person, Willow is always there to lend a shoulder to cry on or offer to wipe off your tears, however, she does struggle with connections. If she feels a deep connection with someone she runs away as she believes that being attached to someone will tie her up to one place and as we know, Willow lives a pretty nomad life. She keeps coming back to New York because she loves the vibe but when she gets bored or overwhelmed she leaves without warning. As loving as she is, she can also be ruthless and cold, especially when feeling vulnerable. She has a sharp tongue and it’s not afraid to hurt some feelings if that means shattering the pristine image some people have of her.

headcanons

She has a rib cage tattoo that reads “Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.” It’s a quote from Sylvia Plath.

Speaks French fluently and sometimes she likes to pretend she’s a lost French tourist just for fun.

Volunteers at the animal shelter. Because she doesn’t have a set home, she can’t have a pet but she loves animals.

Never has enough battery on her phone and sometimes she sings in the subway to earn some coins because she tends to forget her wallet.

Really good friends with the homeless woman who lives down her street, she brings her food from the restaurant.

Keeps many scrapbooks from the places she’s been.

Sometimes she goes to music stores and plays the piano, one of the few activities she enjoyed as a child.

Loves reading and whenever she’s not getting in trouble or working, she’s at the library.

Wears too many rings, so don’t try to mug her.

connections

Older brother: Willow has an older brother who followed her parents’ plan. He graduated college and now has a very important job. Willow hasn’t spoken to him in three years, even if he’s tried to contact her. She just doesn’t want any ties to her old life, including her family.

“Best Friend”: I put it between quotations because she doesn’t stay in one place long enough to actually form long lasting friendships but this person is the closest to that. She adores them and actually sends them a postcard when she leaves.

Partner in crime: As stated, Willow is pretty reckless and she does a lot of stupid shit but she’s always seeking for someone to be her partner in crime and just go crazy with them.

Co-workers/Clients: She works as a waitress at a restaurant (if your character has a restaurant let me know, bc idk where she would work). 

Neighbor: She lives in a small apartment in Brooklyn with two other roommates, it’s not ideal but it’s what she has.

College friends/hook ups: Oh during her college year, she was a party girl and she made a lot of “friends” (She attended Princeton btw) and also hooked up with a lot of people (f/m/nb), most of them were older than her.

Flirtationship: She is a natural flirt and she doesn’t even try to hide it.

Unrequited: Maybe your character has a crush on her (and depending on chemistry maybe she does as well but since she moves often she tries to ignore it). It’s angsty, it’s fun, give it to me. (f/m/nb)

Hook ups: Y’all know the drill

Bad tinder date: Willow thought it would be fun to go on a tinder date and she proposed some crazy scheme and they both had to spend the night in a jail cell.

Roommates: She lives in Brooklyn with two more roommates.

[unearthcd]

natalia dyer, cis female + she/her | you know andromeda de-larouche, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to go tomorrow by the newton brothers like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole messy stacks of sheet music, observant glances, and the inevitable fading of all beautiful things thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 29th, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

‘tis i, again, coming to you live with a second character! as always, feel free to message me to plot or chat here or on discord (swamp rabbit#1745)!

name: andromeda nicolette de-larouche nicknames: drom, dromeda age, birth date: 23; october 29 hometown: irving, north carolina occupation: musician in various jobs sexuality: bisexual

act i

andromeda nicolette de-larouche was born the middle triplet to a financially comfortable couple right here in irving, north carolina. while the children weren’t being taught three languages and horseback riding by tutors and nannies as toddlers, you could say they were considerably well-off.

mom was a workaholic whose idea of showing affection consisted of a half-hearted head or shoulder pat, lacking in stereotypically motherly instincts. dad was more present and seemed to fill in those emotional gaps, providing genuine love and care to the family. all was well—or as well as any young, young child could tell—until they divorced. the triplets were three and their mother, without so much as a fight, gave up her parental rights over them.

drom took her mom’s departure hard once she was old enough to understand it, though most would be made to believe she was unaffected, the girl possessing a cool and blasé attitude when asked about it. in a way, she unintentionally adopted some of the woman’s traits by way of self-preservation—most notably, a lack of outwardly expressed love and attachment (save for towards her siblings). the signs of a deep and lingering pain were and are there, though, for those observant and caring enough for her to notice them.

eventually dad remarried, bringing a step-mother and her five children into the family. despite this generally happy situation, andromeda’s relationship with her step-mother wasn’t picture-perfect. despite being perfectly kind, drom was partially closed off towards her. that being said, even as a girl she noticed how kind and loving she was towards each and every one of her children—even the more difficult ones, i.e. andromeda.

that is, until one entirely average, unnoteworthy evening when a young dromeda briefly expressed an interest in learning piano at the dinner table. it was her step-mother who immediately signed her up for in-home classes. her step-mother who gifted her the instrument. the large and unexpected gesture brought them closer.

the same support was ever-present throughout the years as drom picked up more and more instruments (violin, cello, organ, guitar...), got into composing, and became involved in the local music scene and those in neighboring cities.

yes, she was a band kid. all throughout middle and high school. and if anyone gave her shit for it, she’d verbally cut them down before she could physically do so with her cello bow <3

act ii

for a while things were good—really good. home life is great, despite dad often being gone at work, a CEO and sole financial provider for the family. drom is a budding musical genius, impressing instructor after instructor. then, at the age of fifteen, things take a sudden turn.

TW: ALCOHOLISM/REHAB. dad was gone more than usual, step-mom seemed particularly stressed. while something had taken a downward turn, neither of them were initially open about it. that is, until dad was placed in rehab. this came as a shock, considering he didn’t drink often at home, instead choosing to do so at the office. andromeda didn’t take this well. it wasn’t like he was especially present before, but the thought of losing another parent, in a sense—of them having picked something else over her and the family—affected her deeply.

despite being surrounded by love, she became fiercely independent and unreliant on others. of course, she loves and is very protective of her family, but she’s also guarded and weary of maintaining any attachments. in a way, especially with her step-mother (another parental figure she couldn’t bear being disappointed by) and her father, once he returned (“ah, the prodigal father makes his triumphant return”). the only relationship she strongly maintained was hers with atty. it’s a triplet thing.

it’s not that drom was rude to her parents (aside from the occasional teenager-like remark), but she definitely wasn’t your typical loving, prime-time-movie-picket-fence daughter, either. she became... cordial. polite, but not affectionate. closed off, once again, but to a new level.

her junior year of high school she began giving music lessons to people of all ages (fellow students, their younger siblings, etc.) for extra spending cash. it wasn’t like she needed it, but she was stubborn and didn’t want to ask mom + dad.

act iii

despite a handful of university scholarship opportunities, a resume of awards, and impressive involvement in a couple short musical tours, once atty decided to stay in irving for college, so did she. from eighteen to twenty-two she attended irving university with a major in musical performance and composition.

at one point she did a study abroad program for a semester, (which i’m leaving super vague, because connection opportunity??) but otherwise her studies were based in her hometown.

post-graduation she’s managed to do a few high-profile projects (composing a track for an animated feature film, writing music for a few east coast indie films) as well as take on a couple jobs—one playing in a neighboring city’s orchestra and one being an accompanist for local theatres and dance studios. catch her in the pit at local productions. don’t bring her flowers, she’ll get embarrassed (or do, please do).

personality + fun facts

look, she isn’t a recluse, she just avoids getting too close with people. she’ll make friends, but she won’t put a ton of stock into the relationship. that way, if you’re gone tomorrow, she isn’t hurt by it.

dry sense of humor. doesn’t care to handle anyone with kid gloves. this sometimes works out in her favor, though. since she isn’t out here looking for her soul mate or found family, she’s never trying to put on a more “presentable” or likable version of herself. so if you’re still wanting to hang out, it’s probably because you genuinely like her

has a mini tattoo of the dies irae (aka classic death motif) notes on her left side ribcage

does instagram lives while composing and practicing music in her room, the little maestro just doing her insane thing

of all her siblings, she’s the closest with atticus. she won’t say it often, but she considered them a rock throughout the turbulence brought on by their bio parents. that’s one of the two relationships she will actively fight to protect and maintain. the other being atty’s daughter, gracelynn, who drom has an uncommon soft spot for. she jokes (or is she?) about making her a musical protégé all of the time.

connection ideas

i have a handful of inspo posts > here < and am starting to add more as i come by them, but i’m open to all of the angst, drama, emotions, heartbreak interesting dynamics!

[nerdygaymormon]

Sometimes I really hate being Bi. I know know the Church is true and I'll never leave it, but man is it a struggle. I started to think I was Bi on my Mission, and wow, that was scary. Ever since I got home, little over a year ago, I feel like I'm attracted to women more and more and I hate it. (I know I'm Bi and not Lesbian.) I see a cute gal, and I want cuddles and dates, and so many other things, but I can't act on it. (Especially since I'm at BYUI.) Do you have any tips on not hating yourself

Everyone has some things about themselves they don’t like or about which they’re hyper-critical. Often these are about not living up to our ideals, actions we wish we had or hadn’t done, not living up to some societal ideal, about a failure in our life. This is normal and part of being human. 

Queer people in particular must deal with self-hatred that goes beyond just a normal part of being human. We grow up hearing negative messages about people like us and we internalize those messages. And often we have an inner voice that is authoritative and may sound like our parents or religious leaders and thus when it speaks to us, that voice gives those messages extra heft. These things cause us to see ourselves as lesser and to feel shame over our feelings and how we experience life. 

An important part of unraveling this self-loathing is to recognize the negative messages, refute them, and replace them. 

For example, your world won’t end just because you’re bi. Some people may view you differently if they find out, but a lot of people will continue to respect and love you. Perhaps you’ll lose some people, but you will not lose everything and everybody you care about.

That’s recognizing and refuting the negative messages, now let’s replace them. Being bi is a wonderful part of what makes me the person I am and I’m lucky because it brings many important gifts into my life. I can find beauty and love that others miss. 

When you’re at church or school and hear a negative message about queer people, push back against it. You can raise your hand and speak up. If you’re not feeling brave in that moment, it’s okay, and explain to yourself why that comment was wrong and replace it with a positive comment. 

Another thing you may have heard is that being gay or bi is a choice or the result of a lack of faith or some other reason. Fact is that it’s biological and a natural part of this world. This is literally how we’re made. 

Associate with other LGBTQIA people. 

I always feel so much better after I’ve been with other queer people. Being with them helps fight the things I was taught about the queer community, I can see & experience that they are normal people. They are fun, loving, caring, and supportive, exactly the opposite of what I’d been told. You can attend USGA-Rexburg and there’s a new resource center going up in town. 

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints spends quite a bit of time teaching and celebrating early pioneers. It’s quite a legacy and something to be proud of. The same is true of the queer community, we have amazing pioneers. We are a brave people. You have claim to two incredible legacies. Read about some of our queer Mormon heroes of the last decade.

Shame withers in sunshine

If you’re not yet out to friends and family, that’s okay, you have a blog and can write about your experiences and thoughts online. You can also find & connect with other queer Mormons. 

One thing I’ve experienced, which has surprised me is that as I write and post about things of which I was embarrassed, the shame associated with them goes away. By sharing with others, it is no longer a secret that needs to be hidden, but something I’m taking ownership of. 

If you’re awesome on paper, then you’re awesome in person

I used to know that I could write things on paper about myself that would sound great, but I didn’t have positive feelings about them. That person on the paper looked good, but somehow I didn’t have those same feelings about myself. I was the first person in my family to get a college degree, I now have an MBA, I served a mission, I am the favorite uncle in my family, I play the piano, I am kind and trusted and so on. 

Learn to draw boundaries

Often when we don’t feel great about ourselves, we make up for that by seeking the approval of others, more so than is usual or healthy. We end up agreeing to do things we may not want to do just so that we seem agreeable and worthy of their approval, even from people we don’t care about that much. There is power in being able to say “no.” Schedule time to get your school work done, to participate in activities you enjoy, in having time for friends, for contributing to the community. You can agree to spend time helping others with things they want, but protect your boundaries and don’t overstretch yourself. 

Boundaries also are important when it comes to people and messages you associate with. Try to find allies and queer people that you can associate with. Even if you’re not “out,” you can present yourself as an ally and be with people who express positivity about queerness. 

You don’t have to accept everything you hear at church, what church leaders have said, or even all the “doctrine.” Church leaders have been tragically wrong in the past, they are not perfect conveyers of the love of our Heavenly Parents. You don’t have to believe the terrible things taught about LGBTQ people. I know this is easier said than done. It helps if you’ve experienced God’s love for you, or if you’ve thought about how illogical it would be for loving Heavenly Parents to send queer children to earth with no way for them to express who they are or to have happiness. We are supposed to experience joy in this life. 

Take care of your health

When I met with a psychologist because I was suicidal and also wanted help with my internalized homophobia and low-self esteem, the first things we discussed were if I was getting enough sleep, was I eating a healthy diet, was I getting exercise. Our physical well-being contributes to our mental well-being. Sometimes a good cry is what I need to express the feelings I’m having, followed by a nap, then I feel much better. 

Allow for growth and forgiveness

We all learn and change and grow. As others grow in understanding and do better, allow them the grace of forgiveness by recognizing things said by their past selves were said in ignorance and recognize the growth they’ve undergone. This also applies to you and your past self. 

A common exercise that helps is to think of what you would say to someone else in a similar position. So often we speak of love and acceptance and not being hard on themselves, and it’s pretty great advice which we could apply to ourselves. Another exercise is to have a picture of our younger self, or even of just some young person around ages 5~12, and know that they are going to grow up queer, what advice would you give them? You deserve the same compassion, kindness and love that you show to others. 

Growth and change also happens to our faith. Here’s a post where I shared about faith transitions and I found it very helpful in understanding how I experience my faith is different from my family, it’s because we’re in different stages. 

Take pride in trying, not in failure or success

Coming out is freaking hard and takes a lot of courage. Like a lot of things in life, many people attempt to do this and then fail, they back down, the moment feels wrong, they get panicked, or whatever reason. Failure isn’t the worst thing, not trying is. And the more we try, the more successes we’ll eventually have. And once you have some wins under your belt, it gets easier to do those things that were once hard. 

When being bi brings happiness, it’s easier to love this about yourself

For so many people, being queer is only associated with negative things in their life, but when you can start associating it with positive things it becomes easier to accept and love this part of yourself. When you have queer friends, when you have experienced the excitement of a crush on a boy and on a girl, when you go on dates, or someone sends a message that your posts about your feelings really helped them, those positive experiences will be associated with being bi. 

Add voices and writings that affirm you and your experiences

So often scriptures are used as a weapon against queer people. A lot of people think they know what the Bible says about queer people based on a few verses pulled out of context, but they’ve not put in any real study to the original language, situation or what those verses read like when put back in context. Nor are they aware that there’s also positive scriptures about queer people. I put together a collection of things I learned that I hope will help others. 

This year I’ve really been enjoying the Beyond the Block podcast, which has a Black man and a gay man discuss each week’s Come, Follow Me lesson. I also have liked the Faithful Feminists podcast. Both of those podcast highlight principles and concepts from the scriptures which are important for marginalized people. 

Find blogs, podcasts, books, videos, lectures, classes, twitter accounts and whatever else that helps affirm you and helps you understand yourself.

[too-attached-to-fiction]

Worm Your Way Into My Heart

Part 2 of the Found Home series

Summary:            

Logan offers to take care of the twins when their parents are out of town. Virgil isn't sure what to think.

Notes:    

Finally back on my bullshit again! Hi everyone. I know the last one didn't get too much attention but I'm so grateful for the few readers it got, and I'm excited to keep writing for this series. Most of them are just going to be one-shots in this universe because I didn't want to have an update schedule.... but I hope you enjoy reading them! I've been pushing myself to make these longer and I'm really proud of the outcome.

also: i live for Thomas talking about his two dads-

Nox

~~~    

  Logan and Virgil had heard of the Michaels long before they met them through the kids.

 Eleanor Beck and Levi Michaels were widely known at Michigan State. Virgil had once groaned to Logan that they were “almost too perfect to exist”. Levi got the main role in nearly every play the university held in the four years he attended. Eleanor often played the roles opposite Levi, though on occasion, she would be in the orchestra pit playing the piano.

 Somehow, they were the popular kids among the theater geeks. They’d been the ones that went straight to New York on trust funds, but their house was only a few blocks away from Virgil’s childhood home. The Sanders didn’t even know that the Michaels had returned until they sent an invite for dinner.

 Thomas had befriended the Michaels twins on the first day of preschool, but they never saw each other outside of school. Despite being their current kindergarten teacher, Logan wasn’t even sure who the twins’ parents were. When he called home regarding Remus’s behavior, he often only reached their voicemail or Joanne, the main housekeeper.

 “Mister Logan!” Remus and Roman ran up to him one afternoon during pick-up. Thomas was not far behind them, as always. “Our mommy and daddy want you to come over for dinner with Thomas and your wife!”

 Logan was about to correct them when Thomas spoke up, stomping his foot. “I      told     you, I have a Dad and a Papa. I don’t have a mommy.”

 “You have to have a mommy to have a baby.” Remus pointed out.

 “Well, Papa says I’m a-dop-ted.” Thomas said, flubbing the last word, and Logan fought the urge to laugh.

 “I’d need to talk to your parents if you want us over for dinner, though.” Logan said, trying to keep a straight face. “Do you have a way I can talk to them?”

 “They’re here!” Roman said. “Remus, go get them.”

 “On it!” Remus ran into the crowd of parents and quickly emerged with Levi and Eleanor in tow. “Mommy, you said you wanted to meet Thomas’s parents. This is Thomas’s dad!” He pointed at Logan, who gave them a smile.

 “Eleanor, Levi. It’s certainly been a while.” The three adults shook hands. The kids looked up at them expectantly.

 “I’m sure the kids have been keeping you on your toes.” Eleanor smiled down, ruffling Roman’s hair. “We wanted to invite you to dinner. How about Saturday night? The kids have been begging for a sleepover with Thomas lately.”

 “I’ll have to check with my husband, but that should be alright.” Logan watched Eleanor’s smile falter a little bit, but Levi continued the conversation.

 “Well, here’s my card. Call us if you can, we’d love to have you.” Levi handed over a business card. “Have a nice evening, you two.” The family of four left, and Thomas tugged on Logan’s pant leg.

 “What did I say about tugging my clothes?” Logan tsked, slinging the strap of Thomas’s backpack over his shoulder. “Ready to go home, bud?”

 “Can we get ice cream?” Thomas asked as Logan picked him up, walking back into the classroom to grab his own backpack.

 “Why don’t we wait until after dinner?” Logan compromised, and Thomas nodded, satisfied with that answer.

 ~~~

 “No fucking way.” Virgil said when Logan told him the news that night, at dinner.

 “Language.” Logan sang under his breath as Thomas giggled.

 “Papa said a bad word!” Their son said gleefully, showing the contents of his mouth as he spoke.

 “Remember what we said about talking when you’re eating?” Logan scolded, but he was looking at his husband, still waiting for a response.

 “Why would they want us over for dinner? They’re like Broadway      royalty.     Why are they here, anyways?” Virgil asked, sighing.

 “Well, they’re the parents of Roman and Remus, who are Thomas’s friends. I figure we should at least put in the effort to get to know them.” Logan spotted Thomas pushing his vegetables around his plate. “Buddy, you gotta eat your veggies.”

 “But why?” Thomas whined.

 “Because they’re gonna make you really smart and really strong. Like superpowers.” Logan said, smiling as Thomas started shoveling pieces of broccoli into his mouth. “And you always said you wanted to talk to them.”

 “Well, yeah, but what if they’re rich as-” Logan glared at Virgil, who corrected himself mid-sentence. “They’re rich meanies?” He tried, and Logan rolled his eyes.

 “Why would they be meanies? Roman and Remus are nice to me.” Thomas piped up. He was promptly ignored.

 “Isn’t Eleanor h-o-m-o-p-h-o-b-i-c?” Virgil spelled out, shooting a warning look at Logan.

 “She can’t be, she’s surrounded by people like us all the time. Plus, isn’t Levi bi?”

 “You can still be that and marry someone like      us    .” Virgil said indignantly. “What if they’re teaching their kids that kind of bias?”

 “Considering the amount of times I say “my husband” in class, I’m pretty sure their kids can think for themselves by now.” Logan smirked. “And I don’t know why they’re living here. I thought they went to New York, too.”

 “Why don’t I have a mommy?” Thomas asked after the three had lapsed into silence for a few moments.

 “You do. We just don’t know where she is.” Virgil said. “Adri… Do you remember them? They were your social worker.”

         “No?”

 “That’s okay.” Virgil smiled gently. “Adri said that they didn’t know who your mommy was. But when you’re older, and if you still want to find her then, we can look for her.”

 Logan looked at Virgil warily. They did know the truth, but a little white lie was easier than explaining the process of surrendering a baby.

 Thomas’s mother had been young, only sixteen. Adri hadn’t been able to tell them much, but they had said that the mother surrendered the baby to a police or firefighter station when he was a few days old. Thomas was taken care of by an older woman, until he was three, when the woman was diagnosed with some chronic illness that rendered her incapable of caring for him. After that, he went to Virgil and Logan.

 Logan didn’t want to upset Thomas with any of this information, but he also didn’t want Virgil to make promises he couldn’t keep. Making promises with kids was always dangerous territory, especially when their memories were so damn sharp.

 ~~~

 “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Virgil sighed as the three of them stood at the Michaels’ front door. “Why are we doing this?”

 “Because we’re good parents.” Logan reminded him as he stepped forward and rang the doorbell.

 If Virgil thought his childhood home was too big, the Michaels’ house was even bigger. Before he could say a word, the family heard shouts from inside. Remus and Roman swung the door open.

 An older woman appeared in the entrance hall, running up to them and the door. “What did I say about answering the door without checking?” She scolded.

 “Sorry, Joanne.” The twins chorused without a hint of remorse, and the woman shook her head.

 “My apologies for their manners. I’m Joanne, the housekeeper. The mister and missus are in the parlor.” The woman said, leading them inside. “I’ll close the door and get dinner ready.” She disappeared down another hall, letting the twins lead the way to the living room.

 “Come on, we’ll show you our video game room!” Remus told Thomas, jumping up and down. Thomas looked at Virgil and Logan with wide eyes.

 “Can I, Papa?”

 “Why don’t you watch a movie?” Eleanor’s voice rang out. “We’ll call when it’s time for dinner.”

 “Okay!” The twins chirped, grabbing Thomas and running off.

 “Come on, we don’t bite.” Eleanor promised, taking the couple into the parlor. “The kids will be okay on their own.”

 Virgil looked at Logan, nervousness bubbling in his stomach.

 This was going to be a long night.

 ~~~

 It wasn’t until after dinner that the anxiety in Virgil’s stomach spiked. The conversation was now about the other couple’s budding acting careers.

 “It’s so difficult juggling them now with the twins. But I suppose it was even worse when they were newborns.” Eleanor laughed lightheartedly. “Now it’s easier to let them run off and do their own thing. We bought our apartment in New York before we even thought of having kids, and it’s too small for all of us to fit. When we have our show runs or movie shoots, they stay here.”

 “With who, exactly?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow. Virgil glanced at his husband, almost seeing the gears in Logan’s head whir.

 “Well, there’s Joanne, but she leaves around 5 PM and arrives around six or seven the next morning to get them ready for school.” Eleanor shrugged.

 “We figure that the boys can entertain themselves for the evening, and they can operate the microwave and stove well enough.” Levi waved his hand, standing up and moving towards a small bar setup in the corner. “Would either of you like a drink?”

 “That’s alright, thank you.” Virgil said as Logan opened his mouth.

 “The boys could always stay at our house.” Logan blurted out, ignoring the stare Virgil was giving him. “While you’re out of town. Just so it’s not just them in the house every night.”

 Eleanor blinked slowly. “That would save us a lot. Are you sure that’s alright?”

 “We’ll let you sleep on it, but thank you for the generous offer.” Levi swept in, shooting a flawless smile at the Sanders’. “Alright, who wants to fetch the kids?”

 The trio ran in as Levi spoke, all with equal grins. “Can Thomas sleep over?”

 “Not tonight.” Levi said, the four adults watching in amusement as they pouted.

 “It’s time to go home, Thomas.” Virgil stood up. “It was nice reconnecting with you both.”

 “We’ll call once we’ve discussed everything as a family.” Logan gave them a warm smile, ushering his husband and Thomas out. “Thank you for hosting us!”

 The minute they were on the road, Virgil turned to Logan. “This whole idea is ridiculous.”

 “Obviously. They’re neglecting their kids.” Logan scoffed, keeping his eyes on the road.

 “That’s not what I- Logan, we can barely afford the mortgage and this isn’t like adopting or fostering. We’re taking care of two kids for free. It’s not your job to help everyone.” Virgil sighed. “I know you love kids, but you’re not responsible-”

 “I      am     responsible for them, Virgil. They’re being neglected and they don’t know it, otherwise they’d be worse for wear. What if something happens? And we’ve known but we didn’t do anything to help?” Logan gripped the steering wheel tightly. Virgil knew he was fighting a losing battle. He sunk into the passenger seat, leaning back.

 “You can’t save everyone, L.” Virgil sighed again, rubbing his eyes.

 “I know. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t try.”

 ~~~

 A month later, the Michaels twins moved in as semi-permanent residents. Virgil and Eleanor rearranged their emergency contacts with the school before the Michaels flew off to New York again, promising to return at Christmas.

 Logan had painted their rooms their favorite colors. Not all of their toys survived the move - some remained at the other house for when their parents were in town - but the essentials arrived with them. Namely, the twins’ plush dragons, which they had picked out when they were four on a visit to the local toy store.

 Virgil was hesitant, at first. Would they call him Mr. Sanders or Dad? How on earth was he going to explain it to them when they were older? Logan had an established relationship with them already, but Virgil was just a stranger.

 And then, he wasn’t.

 Remus started clinging to Virgil like no tomorrow, even though he and Roman still called him and Logan Mr. Sanders. (Logan had insisted they call him whatever they wanted, within reason.)

 Virgil made their lunches, kept his ears open for any nightmares or shouts, and always maintained a level head when they fought with Thomas or with each other.

 “How would you feel about more ki-” Logan started to ask one night as they got ready for bed. Virgil scoffed, laughing and shaking his head.

~~~

Taglist: @plinamiismyotp @elementalshadowwitch @idkanameatall @zaisling @sunshineandspecs @bucketsofclams