#but my art is always so fire when im exhausted | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zazima · 4 months

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im rusty. so rusty. and also extremely late for christmas. i may as well have waited 350 days until the holidays came around again, but im trying to write more this year, so hear you go? eek im nervous. please pardon any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. enjoy! also tumblr doesn't seem to have line breaks so sorry if any time jumps are confusing.

also a warning for language and mentions of wanting to step in front of a bus as an extreme response to being embarrassed. i swear this is all fluff otherwise.

Harry doesn't know what to get Sirius for Christmas.

Well, to clarify, Harry doesn't know if he can get Sirius anything adequately worth a damn. Because how can a game (magical or not) or piece of art or trinket or any sort of anything say hey Merry Christmas and by the way, thanks for saving me from my horrible abusive household where I lived in a cupboard and for wrangling a fucked up wizarding judicial system so that it both exonerates you from a murder you didn't commit and lets you adopt a kid you only properly met six months ago.

Harry would also like the gift (if he ever manages to find something) to say also thank you for giving me my own bedroom and for making pancakes every Saturday morning and for letting me visit my friends and for playing two-man Quidditch with me and for ruffling my hair and for always letting me pick the film that we watch and for telling me stories about my parents and for always being just enough and for not pushing me when I have nothing to say and for calling me by my name instead of shouting boy angrily-

Harry figures that he should cut himself off there. Any more gratitudes and the gift will literally be impossible to find, lest it be the size of Hogwarts in an effort to cram any and all unspoken messages Harry doesn't have the courage to voice out loud.

So Harry does what he usually does in a sticky situation. He turns to his friends.

No clue mate, Ron writes. I normally get Mum perfume and Dad whatever Muggle trinket he's been obsessing over. So unless Sirius wants a rubber duck, I probably won't be much help. But you could probably give him one and he'd be ecstatic. You're pretty much his favorite person right now.

Ah bloody hell. Do you think I should get Sirius something as a thanks for Pig?

Even though he's sure Ron's right (although Padfoot might enjoy a rubber duck more than Sirius), Harry doesn't have time to add Ron's own gift conundrum to his list of problems, so he turns to Hermione, who ends up being a bit more helpful.

I know you said that Sirius was interested in curse-breaking and how it can be used to help with cleaning up Grimmauld Place, so maybe something pertaining to that? A book or starter kit? Or perhaps something a bit more personal, something he couldn't just buy in a shop. Don't worry too much, Harry. He'll love whatever it is you give him because it's you.

Harry disregards the book suggestion immediately. Sirius does read; over the holiday break the two of them have taken to sitting quietly on opposite sides of the couch in the sitting room, reading books from the Black family library and munching on the latest treat Mrs. Weasley has sent them while flames blaze in the fireplace, only breaking the peaceful quiet occasionally to share whatever interesting passage has just been read. But Harry doesn't want to give a present that reminds Sirius of the exhausting work they do every day trying to make Grimmauld Place a habitable home.

Hermione's other suggestion, however, gets Harry thinking. Something he couldn't just buy in a shop. That obviously eliminates all of the last-resort items Harry had on his mental list, as they were dumb things he had planned to frantically order by mail once he gave up on the idea of finding something good enough for Sirius. But it also opens up a new idea, something that Harry himself had appreciated when he had received it a few years ago.

He begins firing off letters and mail-in order forms with an efficiency Hermione would admire. The owls return in quick fashion, up to three or four a day. Sirius doesn't notice anything at first, but when Hedwig taps on the kitchen window for the second time that day during breakfast, he gets up and lets her in with a raised eyebrow at Harry.

"Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment?" he asks, somewhat incredulously, peering at the label on the package. "Harry, love, you know we can just go to Diagon Alley whenever you'd like. No need to rely on owl post if you're running low on supplies."

Harry flushes and snatches the small, soft package from Hedwig, stuffing it under his armpit and looking determinedly at his porridge. He hopes he doesn't have ACTUALLY IT'S PART OF YOUR CHRISTMAS PRESENT written all over his face.

"It's fine," he shrugs, aiming for casual nonchalance with his tone. "It's just a small thing. No point in going all the way down to Diagon Alley. Besides, the crowds would drive you crazy. They'd probably give you a concussion trying to get a picture."

Sirius grimaces, probably thinking of their last attempt to go for an ice cream at Fortescue's shortly before Harry had left for the fall term. They'd returned to Grimmauld Place ice cream-less and with a giant tear down the front of Harry's robes.

"Nothing a Glamour Charm wouldn't fix," he responds, grabbing his own empty bowl and bringing it to the sink. "Anyway, it's not fair for us to be shut up in this damned house because some people can't behave themselves in public. You just let me know whenever you want to go out, alright? I promise I won't breathe down your neck while you look at potions ingredients and whatnot. Even if they all suspiciously happen to be ingredients for an Enlarging Potion."

He manages to ruffle Harry's hair before the boy squawks out a "Sirius!" and darts out the kitchen, cackling in response to Harry's sputtered "I'm not... I wouldn't... SIRIUS!"

As Christmas approaches, Harry begins to stay up later and later into the night, working frantically to finish Sirius' present. One late night (or early morning, really), he hears a gentle knock on his door. He jumps and shoves the half completed project under his comforter.

"Come in!"

Sirius peeks his head through the cracked open door. "Are you alright? I was getting a glass of water and noticed your light was still on."

Harry nods, trying to convey a casualness he doesn't feel beneath the stress of wanting to have the present ready by Christmas morning. "Yes. Fine. I was just... reading." He reaches for his nightstand and holds up the latest book he's knicked from the Black family library for this exact purpose.

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "You sure? I've read that one before. Couldn't last more than thirty seconds at a time without falling asleep."

Harry glances at the cover. He hasn't even cracked it open yet. "It's actually quite interesting. I've always been fascinated by... the evolution of wizarding legalese from 1500 to 1800." He internally winces as the subject matter is finally made apparent to his sleep-deprived brain.

Sirius pauses, clearly sensing that something's up. He must decide that now's not the time to probe further because he says, "Alright. You're stronger than me, then. Let me know if you need anything though." He begins to retreat and close the bedroom door but stops right before he actually does. "I forgot, " he murmurs, opening the door wide and stepping fully into Harry's bedroom. He approaches Harry where he's sitting on his bed. Harry tries to discretely shove the half-finished present further under the covers. "You had a letter downstairs. We must have missed it earlier. I only saw it when I was getting water." He hands over a rather thick envelope to Harry, who flips it over, notes the name of the sender, and smiles, relieved.

Sirius lets out a small puff of air, and Harry looks up at the sound. Sirius pastes on a rather strained smile. "Do you often write to Mrs. Weasley?"

Harry's brain scrambles for a response. "Erm. Not really."

He doesn't say anything else, unsure how to explain away the situation convincingly. A rather awkward silence settles between them. Sirius looks as if he's summoning the courage to say something.

Sirius takes a deep breath. "I'm here if you ever want to talk, Harry. I know the Weasley's have always been great to you, and I never want to feel like you're getting that taken away. But, I just want you to know that I'm also here, in addition to them. For anything. No questions asked or judgement cast. Alright?"

The letter slips out of Harry's grip, as he frantically waves his hands in front of him, desperate to correct Sirius' perception of the situation. "Oh, no, Sirius, I know! I swear it. We were just... planning Ron's birthday present this year. They wanted to throw him a party." The fib comes easily.

Sirius visibly relaxes. "Oh. Ron's birthday's not until April though."

"Yes," Harry's brain scrambles for an explanation. "But you know how Mrs. Weasley is. Always trying to stay ahead. She's already starting to plan the menu. Fretting between bacon sandwiches or chicken legs for the main course."

Sirius shakes his head, a genuine smile starting to form on his face. "Well you know my vote is always for chicken legs. Assuming I'm invited of course."

"You know you're always invited. Mrs. Weasley always wants an opportunity to make sure you're feeding me properly," Harry rolls his eyes. "And Ron thinks you're pretty cool too. Even though you broke his leg."

Sirius gives him a mock scowl. "Hey now! I wasn't in my right mind that night. And I gave him an owl to make up for it! Even though I was probably doing myself more of a favor than him. That damned owl was driving me mad."

Harry giggles, and Sirius' smile grows wider at the sound. He lets out a dramatic sigh and leans over to ruffle Harry's hair, ignoring the sounds of protest that come in response to the action.

"Alright then, love. I'm off to bed. Shout if you need anything, and I'll be here in faster than you can say chicken legs. You hear me?"

Harry nods. "Yes sir."

Sirius scowls for real this time. "None of that now, remember?"

Harry nods again, this time rather sheepishly. Sirius bends over to kiss his forehead before heading out of the bedroom, shouting a "Good night!" over his shoulder before he closes the door behind him.

Harry sighs in relief, pulls the present out from underneath the comforter, tears open Mrs. Weasley's letter, and gets back to work.

The morning of the 25th is bright and cold.

Harry is a ball of nerves as the breakfast plates get cleared away and the two of them prepare to go to the sitting room to open presents. Padfoot had barged into Harry's room at half past seven, barking loudly and leaping onto the bed, nearly giving Harry a heart attack in the process. He'd only finished Sirius' present in the wee hours of the morning and had barely managed to shove it into his desk drawer before he'd fallen asleep.

Sirius had dragged Harry into the kitchen for special Christmas chocolate chip pancakes and hot chocolate but had only allowed Harry to start eating once he agreed to don a ridiculously oversized Santa hat that matched the one Sirius had on his own head.

"If I'd known you liked Christmas so much, I'd have taken you to the Muggle mall to get a picture with Santa," Harry grumbles only half-heartedly as he watches the milk heat up on the hob. Sirius was adamant about making hot chocolate the old-fashioned way.

Sirius laughs loudly and hooks his arm around Harry's neck, pulling him close and planting a kiss on his forehead with a loud smack. "It's our first Christmas together, kiddo! First of many. You can get past your anti-morning attitude for that, can't you?"

"I gueeeeeeees," Harry mock-whines, drawing out the word as he adds the chopped chocolate to the steaming milk. He's secretly pleased that Sirius seems to somewhat enjoy his company. It shows he's not such a terrible charge.

"Thank you for your sacrifice," Sirius states dramatically. He gives Harry one last squeeze before releasing him. "Now come on, let's get to presents. I call going first!" He darts off to the sitting room where, overnight, a large pile of presents has piled in front of the eight-foot tall tree Sirius had dragged home one afternoon (with lots of swearing).

Harry gulps nervously as he pours hot chocolate into two mugs and tops them both with a handful of marshmallows. His hands are slightly shaking as he brings them both to the sitting room. Sirius is poking around the heap of gifts as he enters the room, and Harry spots the hastily wrapped, lumpy package he completed only a few hours ago.

Please like it, please like it, please like it, he silently begs as he sets the mugs on the coffee table. The sight of the gift is almost nauseating, and he keeps his eyes fixed on the hot chocolate.

Sirius turns at the sound to spot Harry and grins. "Alrighty, kiddo, what do you want to unwrap first? I did go a bit overboard this year, you'll have to forgive me. But there's plenty here from your friends!" He's practically vibrating with excitement.

Harry straightens his back and clears his throat. "Actually, do you mind if you do the opening first?"

Sirius pauses. "Are you sure? I swear mine are quite good."

Harry nods vigorously. "Yes. You can start with mine. It's right on top. The green wrapping." Let's just get this over with, he thinks.

Sirius picks up the package and shakes it gently. It makes no noise, and Harry can't help but let out a chuckle despite the knots in his stomach. Sirius grins at him and begins to carefully unwrap the gift.

Harry's legs suddenly feel like treacle tart filling. He lowers himself onto the couch so he doesn't pass out.

The wrapper paper gently falls to the ground, revealing a mound of knit material. Sirius unravels the pile to reveal a rather lumpy, oversized navy blue sweater with a slightly misshapen black dog woven onto the front.

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's heart drops to his stomach. He opens his mouth, desperate to explain away the situation. "It's uh... it's... erm... it's a sweater? I made it?" As if that wasn't fucking obvious, he internally snarls at himself. He shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "Yes, I, um, I made it. That's uh... that's Padfoot. On the front of it. I knitted it."

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's words start coming out faster and faster, hoping something comes out that remedies this clusterfuck of an event. "Mrs. Weasley helped me. She sent me instructions. And the patterns? That 's why she was sending me so many letters. I didn't know how to do it. They aren't throwing a party for Ron."

Sirius still doesn't say anything.

Oh fuck! Harry thinks wildly. He's probably livid I lied. Oh fuck fuck fuck. "I'm sorry I lied to you! I just wanted it to be a surprise," he manages to get out. "That's why I was ordering so much through owl post. I had to get the yarn and the needles. And I kept having to order more yarn because I kept getting frustrated and messing up a lot. I didn't want you to know. Until now, that is. Obviously."

Sirius. Still. Doesn't. Say. Anything.

Harry wants to crawl into a hole and die. But for some stupid, idiotic reason, he keeps speaking. "I wasn't sure if you'd like the color? I actually realized that I don't know what your favorite color is. But whenever Mrs. Weasley makes one for me or for the Weasley kids, she usually does our favorite color. Or house colors. But I figured you have lots of things in Gryffindor colors? Like your wand holster. And then I noticed that you wear a lot of navy. So I thought that might be nice."

If Sirius doesn't say anything, Harry just might call the Knight Bus so he can step in front of it. He decides to get everything off of his chest before he has to do so.

"Mrs... uh... Mrs. Weasley made me one," he explains softly. "My first year. And every year after that. It means a lot to me. I think it was probably the first gift I ever got. And it kind of made me feel like part of their family? A little bit at least. So... so I wanted to give you one. Not from her, of course. But from me. So you could feel like a part of... our family?" His sentence embarrassingly ends like a question, so he hastily tacks on, "If you want to, of course."

Sirius finally moves, and Harry shuts his mouth. He gently sets the sweater down on the armchair next to him, walks over to where Harry is sitting, and pulls him up into the tightest, fiercest hug Harry has ever experienced.

Neither say anything for a few moments. Until Harry can't deal with not being able to breathe and squeaks out, "Uh? Sirius? I can't really inhale."

Sirius releases him quickly and takes a step back. "Sorry."

Harry feels awkward again. He clears his throat, hoping to fill the silence with something. "I hope you like it. But I know it's not done very well. So I can take it apart if you'd rather that. The shop said they'd take the yarn back as long as it wasn't too worn."

Sirius' head snaps up. "What? Harry, my love, I don't not like it. I love it."

Harry's mouth goes dry. "What?"

Sirius gives him a small smile. His eyes look suspiciously glassy. "Harry. You made this for me. You made this for me! It's my favorite color, and it's got me on it! Of course I love it. Not just because you took the time and the effort to make something for me. Because, my goodness, how do you even start with something like this? It must have taken you ages. But also because, well, you said it yourself. I mean, I already felt like part of the same family with the whole adoption bit and knowing you since you were a baby and whatnot, but it's always nice to know you feel the same. And I'm so honored to be a part of your family. Always will be. You have to know that, alright?" Sirius presses their foreheads together. "Alright?"

Harry nods, feeling a little something catch in his throat. He nods.

"Thank you for my gift," Sirius says softly. "I love it. No talk about talking it apart. I'll be proper mad if you do, you hear me?"

Harry nods again. Sirius releases him. He grabs the sweater from the armchair and pulls it over his head. The hem is uneven and the dog looks more like a cat once the sweater settles on his body, but Sirius only looks down at it and grins.

"Now come on, it's your turn to open presents. I don't think any of mine are as good as a handmade sweater, but I hope you like them anyway. And that's got me thinking, we ought to do a Christmas card no? Especially now that I've got a nice sweater on. Mrs. Weasley might tear up at the sight of a photo of the two us. Come on, come on, pick a present."

Harry rolls his eyes without any real heat behind the action. And he doesn't say anything later when he feels a burst of pride when he sees the photo they take in front of the Christmas tree that afternoon, Sirius wearing the sweater with the biggest, proudest smile Harry has ever seen.

He just bottles the feeling and hopes to remember it forever.

#hi i write sometimes #sirius and harry #sirius black #harry potter #good godfather sirius black #dadfoot #sirius raising harry #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oneshot

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thecontumacious · 2 years

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Your writing is so good!! (*/ω＼*)

Can you maybe do a luxiem bois with a reader that's getting burnt out from work and the bois trying to help them? (*˙˘˙)♡

"Come, rest with me a while."

a/n: i told you guys i'd go a bit crazy with fics hehe ALSO ANON IM RLY SORRY I'M SO SO LATE IN DELIVERING THIS TO YOU

reminder that all my work and others in the fandom are purely fiction and intended to entertain, not to be projected irl.

quick disclaimer: i based all these burnouts on my own personal experiences as burnouts are different for everyone!

Vox Akuma 👹🌹

man is hands on dropping everything upon noticing the tiniest of signs (´･ᴗ･ ` )

without much being said, vox is obviously no stranger to this and after centuries, he's pretty much already mastered the art of preventing the dreaded burn out

so when he sees you staring head on at your work, your fingers set on the side doing nothing, your gaze just a bit emptier than usual, he knows

"what's wrong, love? exhausted from work?" he coos, wrapping his arms around you from behind. vox immediately feels the strain on your shoulders, further indicating you were definitely close to your limit

if anything you already were

vox is one to just sit down and calm you down with words, coaxing you to take a mental break for yourself

it almost didn't matter if you were hungry or not

he's straight to the kitchen to cook something up for you

it could be a comfort food of yours, something of his or something completely new he's been wanting to try in a while

either way, you're eating all of his delicious foods

"but vox, i already ate though..."

"you don't want this food to go to waste now, do you?"

if you're the type to sit quiet during burnouts and rather not talk about the daunting mental block, vox is absolutely fine with it and would probably just stuff your mouth with his food

oh and his lips ;D

ah yes the sussy jokes and pickup lines

god pls have mercy(″ロ゛)

"my, my, if your lips are going to stay frowning like that, mind if i give it a smile with my own?"

"or would it better if i put them to better use?"

KAJHSJKSHASHSGJH?????

SUSSY SUSSY SUSSY

anyway 💀

if the day had been extremely cruel to you, your work piling over, the expectations ever so towering but your mind at a fucking dead end all until your sanity results to tears

"oh dear, shhh, shhh, sweet thing. come here," vox whispers, sitting next to you and bringing you immediately against his chest. "it's alright to let it out, my dear. cry as much as you want. but i'll stay here with you."

if this were me i'd be crying even harder yall 😭

slight mother instincts kicking in, he'll literally just baby you as you weep away your woes. it won't be super obvious but know that deep down, he cares so much about you

he'll just rock you back and forth wherever you are, stroking your hair gently while whispering things your heart needed right now

"all will pass, love. i promise it'll be alright."

"n-no it won't, vox..."

"really? what makes you think that?"

"j-just everything! look at me, i'm failing everything..."

"i'll be honest with you," he smiles, wiping a fallen tear. "i don't see that happening. to me, all i see is your body asking you to rest. it's telling you to take some time off."

"b-but--"

"trust me, dear," he leans down, bringing you closer against him as he placed a chaste kiss at the top of your head. "i believe you to be strong. but there will be times you need to take a break to make yourself even stronger next time. do you understand?"

once you've settled down, he's stuffing your face with more food (´ ω `♡)

no matter how long you're healing yourself, vox will always be there every step of the way. he's holding your hand, he's hugging you, he's kissing your tears away

and by the time you're back on your feet again, the light in your eyes a bright glow and your fire of passion burning through, vox will just proudly smile as you recount today's achievements

"vox, vox, look! i finally got it done! and the results for that other thing i'm doing came back positive!"

when he promised he will do anything to protect that beautiful smile of yours, he meant it with every fiber of his body.

he laughs, pulling you in to place a kiss on your lips, "well done, sweet thing. i knew you could do it."

other boys utc!

Mysta Rias 🦊🔶

i think it'd take a while for mysta to rly notice what was going on (despite being a detective yes)

initially, he thought you were just in a bad spot today. bad day? bad mood? one of those short term emotional breaks is all

but when he catches sight of you continuing to sigh in front of your work, groaning even more often and the many times your face lost its color from constant hopelessness

yes he notices

but he's actually hesitant to rly take action upon it

mysta is very used to seeing you be so positive and happy about things, telling him about your day, even if it was a terrible one

in short, he was used to seeing you smile

but even as one tiny joke didn't manage to bring that back on your face, mysta was extremely worried

was his joke funny? did it offend you more than it should've healed you?

he was nervous to talk you about it, afraid he'd take the wrong step

sooo i will have to ask you to be one opening up to him. at least tell him what's going on and what's been bother your mind to affect your moods like this(>_<)

mysta will appreciate you so much for doing that and once he understands what it is you're going through exactly, he'll definitely offer you all sorts of help

"burnout huh? they suck a lot," he sighs, taking your hand in his and rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. he smiles, kissing it, "it's okay, babe. that means you just gotta take a break, right?"

"as simple as that sounds, mysta, i don't know if i can right now... work is piling all over me."

"huh, what assholes to be overworking you right?"

you snort a bit, shaking your head.

phase one: get them to smile at least a bit. complete.( ◡‿◡ *)

"okay, okay, listen," mysta scoots closer, squeezing your fingers on the way. "i just saw this new (anime/show) come out and a few episodes have been posted. so many people have been saying it's good. up to binge?"

that is his go to way of cheering you up

mysta will immediately try to make you forget what it is that is troubling you, preferably through some entertainment like games or movies.

if it goes back to bother you again, he's quick to make a joke about it in hopes you won't feel as intimidated by it

oh and he's more than glad to take you to the grocery store to pick up a whole new stash of snacks <3

tbh mysta is a big snackie so it's also an excuse to be munching on some lmao

"wait why are we getting ice cream again, mysta? don't we already have some at home?"

"uhhhitgrewlegsandranaway"

"to your stomach?"

"nooooooooo?"

phase two: get snacks and movie plans. complete.(ง ื▿ ื)ว

he will not care how many snacks and or movies it will take to bring you back again mentally. he's there to handle the remote on what you're watching for the rest of the night and he's the one getting up on his feet to grab more snacks

but as soon as mysta sees the tears fall out and you're breathing a lot heavier then before, he can't help but want to cry too

honestly he becomes a mess with you at this point

"hey, hey.. d-don't cry, i-i'm gonna cry too now.." he tries coaxing you, his eyes pricking. he held your shaky hands in hopes to find stability within himself

but yeah it doesn't rly work

"goddammit," he mumbles to himself, sniffling

serious time: he feels rly useless when he can only sit there and watch you cry, especially when he finds himself crying too

"babe, babe, look, it's gonna be okay, right?" he tries but it makes you cry even worse

you don't mean to make him feel even worse, honest!

so what's the solution now?

well... cry together until one of you calms down┐(~ー~;)┌

most times, you're the one calming down first so when you cease your weeping and see that mysta was upset as well, you're the one comforting him.

you know what they say: to cheer yourself up, cheer someone else up.

mysta will just look into your swollen red eyes with the biggest pout in the world, "i-i'm fine, i promise, babe."

you giggle, leaning in to kiss his cheeks. "why are we such a mess, mysta?"

"we're destined to be together is all."(//ω//)

and then it's back to movies and snacks until dawn

once you're back on your feet, laughing, smiling and scolding mysta for something he's done, he knows you're okay again

when you show him an achievement you've gotten, sparkles in your eyes, he'll just grin at you while patting your head, "good job, baby. you're so, so strong. i love you."

Luca Kaneshiro 🦮🔆

not immediately but the moment he starts talking to you and your responses are not like usual, he knows something is up

although not necessarily assuming it was burnout

you're always putting on a smile for him or at the very least giving him more extensive responses to his questions and comments

instead of those, he's only getting 'hm's

his metaphorical puppy ears and tails droop down

"honey? is everything okay?" luca asks you gently while frowning

if you're the type to push people away during these rather dark times, i'm gonna have to apologize on luca's behalf bcs he's the type to push you until he knows you're okay

of course it's not so forceful it's toxic

but just know that luca is genuinely worried about you and if he doesn't know what's up, he's afraid he'll step on a landmine

"honey please? just tell me how you're feeling. was it a bad day?"

to be honest though, with luca's natural adorable charm, it's sorta hard to look away without giving in to him (biased asf lmao)

however if you still aren't in the right place to be speaking, luca will just sigh and give you a kiss to the temple, smiling gently, "alright then. just find me if you're ready to talk okay? i'll always be here to listen."

BABYYYYY

˚‧º·(′̥̥̥ o ‵̥̥̥)‧º·˚

ahem

he'll be so happy once he sees you approach him, tugging on his sleeve although still a bit sad(╯_╰)

"yes, honey?" luca smiles, putting away his work

i mean bro come on doesn't his smile alone just give you relief?

your heart feels a bit lighter and then you start to spill everything, informing him that it was probably burnout from all the work you've been doing

"oh, honey, come here, come here," luca is the one coming to you tho

you happily receive him in your arms, wrapping yourself in the comforting scent of luca kaneshiro

he starts stroking your hair, rocking you back and forth while humming a soft tune

"how about we hang out for the rest of the day? i'll clear up my schedule, no problem!"

and as much as you insisted that you just wanted a sliver of his time, he's not listening to you anyway and requesting his secretary to clear up any meetings today

he also even went as far as tweeting that he'll be cancelling the stream if he hasn't already

dw, us lucubs are nice! >:3

luca is the type to try and make you forget about your burnout like mysta although a little bit more active

games, movies, a night out, cooking together if you haven't eaten

i think the one thing luca won't ever forget to mention to cheer you up (especially in these dire times) is skin care!! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭

he's not afraid to be seen with cute bunny hair band to put his long hair away and have cucumbers on his eyes 🥒

i mean why would he? he always feel so nice afterwards

can't a mafia boss clean himself up too(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

always ready with a stash of skincare, from face masks, hair masks, lip scrubs, undereye masks, waxing, nail care--i could go on tbh and luca would prob still have more

or if you'd like, luca is more than glad to be bring you to a spa to get yourself done but honestly, he likes doing it at home with you because he think it's more intimate ;)

"careful babe you're gonna get it all over my eyes!!"

"i heard smoothies from these ingredients make your skin feel good from the inside."

"i feel like painting my nails today... i still can't get the hang of painting my right hand tho... "

"ooohhh this one smells so nice, honey! come on come on let's do this one."

at the end of the night, luca will have you snuggled up against him watching a gentle movie

he'll also just brush away at your face, deciding to bring up your case of burnout now that your heart is in a much better place

"hey, about your burnout. i know it sucks being in this phase of your life right now but listen to me," then he'll cup your cheeks and squish them. "i know you well enough that something like this is just another obstacle. and even if you have trouble going through it, i'll kick its ass down with you. you hear me?"

you don't even remember about your burnout, knowing your (yellow) knight in shining armor is good on kicking some ass down with you

you clasp your hands onto luca's, leaning up to kiss his nose

he frowns, "but honey you missed..."

laughing, you try again. this time, properly.

luca giggles, "i love you."

and once you're back on your feet again, luca has never been more proud of you. he'll hug you tightly, spin you around in the air and probably invite you for a night out at your favorite restaurant

"I'M SOO PROUD OF YOU, BABYYYY! POGGGGGG!"（〜^∇^ )〜

Ike Eveland 🖋💙

notices immediately and already knows what to do

although not as experienced as vox, ike tends to keep himself busy a lot so he has no shortage of burnouts

he's tried different ways of healing himself, from the internet from asking people

it can be super hard going through these things alone, so when he sees you in this state, with symptoms he himself is so familiar with, his heart aches and he reaches out to you so that you don't have to go through the same thing he did often

safe to say that he'll be very serious about this⊂(▀¯▀⊂ )

sure, jokes can help from time to time but i think ike is the type to rly take things head on

ike knows you super well so he knows if you'd like some space right now, or if you need some company

if you feel more reserved and "to avoid" him, he knows to back off for the time being. but he doesn't just go back to his work until you've cooled off

ike wants you to know (although indirectly) that he's there for you still

so what he does is step out of the room and place a drink of your choice near you

"remember to hydrate yourself, okay?" he gently tells you

and when you thank him, giving him a small smile, ike touches your hand like he's asking for permission

if you don't react much, ike will just lean down and place kisses all over your face

to rly rly rly rly remind him that you're not alone, despite all your problems and flaws(˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )

when the day is very bad, your heart just wanting to break and your mind shattering to pieces from the emotional distress, ike would prefer to be with you rather than give you space

seems disrespectful of what you rly wanted at the time, but pls bear in mind that ike wants to make sure you're okay

it's not that he doesn't trust you either

he just... doesn't like it when you're hurting, alone especially

"please let me stay with you," ike will tell you when you push him away

don't tell me you have the heart to rly refuse this soft king :<

he'll just hold you without saying much, stroking your hair, wiping your tears, kissing them away at the right times

if you want to ramble and rant about everything, telling him how work rly sucks, how you've been failing everything and just being in a terrible mental state, ike doesn't mind either

he's definitely the listener type, absorbing in all of your words like a sponge

so it seems as though he always had the perfect words to say at times like these

i mean.

he's a novelist, he writes songs--

his philosophy is bound to be different from others. or at the very least, word the most common phrases in a way it seemed so original????

ಠ_ಠ

you can't tell me otherwise that he'll be singing to you to make you feel better :D

he's slightly shy about it (this cute bby istg) but once he comes to terms that he was doing this for you and to hopefully make you smile again, he'll start humming a song

something he liked, something you liked, something he was working on

it never fails to put your heart and mind at ease

ike eveland will sit, sing, hold you etc etc for hours on end if it meant seeing you stand back up again

seeing as he's super used to burnouts, i think he actual has some concrete ways of slowly getting you back up there

he totally understands if you're not ready yet, but the way he persuades you--

yeah, sometimes you wonder if it's a blessing or not to be dating ike eveland

i'm just kidding it's always a blessing†_(ﾟｰﾟ*)β

he'll even set aside his own work to help you do yours, even as simple as organizing your papers, cleaning up your soft files and all the mundane things your work has you do

you'd be lying if you said that wasn't such a big big help

and before you knew it, you're back to being productive in a lesser time than usual

when you show ike that you've cleared up your work list and or the results of your hard work, he feels more fulfilling knowing that you were saved from the spiraling misery of burnout

he pats your head, brings you onto his lap and presses a very passionate kiss to your lips

then you pull away to see his slightly teary eyes, "i'm so, so proud of you älskling."

Shu Yamino 🔮✨

would notice you acting differently, say like staring off into your laptop but doing nothing or sighing just a bit more than usual

shu would def start speculating something is going on and he tests his own theory out by talking to you

"hey there baby," he coos, his eyes sparkling

"mhm," and although you were smiling, shu could tell it was half hearted

yep, something's going on

unlike luca though, he'll be a lot gentler when coaxing you to tell him

he would like to use his spells to spill out of you but he knows super well that's not rly nice so he'll just keep on asking you without using any underhanded tricks

after the third time asking, he'll just sigh and cuddle you silently, holding your hand

"it's alright if you don't wanna tell me. just let me stay with you okay?"

his soothing voice and the way he pleaded a little bit was hard to refuse :<

but just know that shu doesn't want to leave you alone like this, even if he doesn't know for sure what it is you're going through

shu kinda already had a hunch that it might've been burnout but he wants to you tell him himself

after a while, you finally tell him what's going on and he's more than glad to open his arms for you if comfort is what you need

shu is also super calm and smiling throughout the entire thing

it's a trick he learned somewhere

when you're handling something (especially if it's stressful), if one person is smiling, other people just tend to calm down a lot more

you'd be lying if you said it hasn't worked out with him :3

anyway

i think is all about reassuring you mentally

he wants to rebuild you back again before he can move onto other things

so he wouldn't immediately try to distract you from the stress

to him, it's important you recognize what you're feeling and learn how to face it head on instead of running away from it first (ofc this doesn't apply to everyone, you do you readers^^)

"take a deep breath for me."

"clear your head first and focus on my voice, okay? close your eyes if you need to."

he has the habit of pressing between your eyebrows if it furrows so it's just a super cute way to remind you that you should relax

٩꒰ ˘ ³˘꒱۶~♡

after you're calm, shu will simply smile at you and start telling you about your past achievements, about all the good things about you, about how strong you are and basically the wonderful being you were born as ٩(◕‿◕)۶

but if you're feel more broken apart this time and you can't help but tear up, shu will admittedly freeze up first

this was the one thing shu was so afraid of happening, exactly why he wanted to reassure you mentally first

he'll be at a loss of words on what to do next, he himself not knowing what to do

seeing you cry breaks his heart okay

but shu yamino is a keeper of his words so if he said that he's gonna protect your smile, he will do exactly that even if it daunted him

he'll cup your cheeks so that you're focused on him and you can see he's trying to maintain a strong smile for you despite the tears

shu will just kiss away your tears, each one getting longer every time

BRO THIS AGAIN WOULD MAKE ME CRY EVEN MORE ;-;;;;

after you've calmed down, shu will finally kiss you on the lips and say, "there you are. hi."

he'll then bring you into his embrace, so tightly against him as if he was afraid that you'd actually disappear from him, that something would take you away from him

something not even his jujutsu magic could do

"it's all gonna be okay. i'm right here to go through it with you," he whispers, rubbing your back.

"b-but--"

"when have i ever gone back on my word, babe?"

that he was correct about

you just sigh and melt into him, snuggling into his chest

and for the rest of the day, it really is healing time for both you and him

you're not allowed to be touching anymore work by shu (not directly but by unwilling to let you go hsakjshk) so you have the time to rly just relax and save yourself from further destruction

and as for shu?

it becomes a reminder for him that he should take care of you more often

not in a way that you can't handle yourself

but the fact that he couldn't prevent you from getting these burnouts in the first place, maybe he should've stopped you from working too much

then you suddenly touch his face

shu looks up at you

you're smiling now

"there you are. hi, shu."

he can't help but tear up and cry at the same time, leaning into your hands

it's definitely the little things with you and shu

and once you've picked yourself up again with the sorcerer's help, you're back to laughing and making corny jokes with him, you're in a way reminding shu that he's saved you all over again

"shu, shu, look! i got rly good feedbacks on these!"

ah, that glimmer in your eyes...

he leans in and places a kiss on your temple, "good job, cutie."

Masterlist!

#nijisanji en #luxiem #luxiem x reader #vox akuma #mysta rias #luca kaneshiro #ike eveland #shu yamino #akurylic #mystart #drawluca #ikenography #yaminoart #author chan’s delivery service ?

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kirby-the-gorb · 2 months

Text

reply roundup!

I've done basically nothing but lay down and be exhausted since kirb2k over 2 months ago, but I did at least get the kirbox orders fulfilled. I have an immunology appointment in another 2 1/2 months and maybe they might do something to help me feel better. (it's a bad time. I know it seems to be most of what I talk about, but it is kind of all-consuming. even this roundup wore me out.)

also there are sometimes comments that make me smile but I don't have anything to add to them so I just read them and smile and don't put them in the roundups, but I promise I do see them all, like the many yeehaws (and yes haws and heehaws) for [cowboy kirb] <3

on [the last roundup] @hive-heart said: Hope things get better, kirby guy 💕 thanks for the reply :) also yeah! Sitting by the window during a storm is quite nice

they haven't lol, but thank you!

on [kirb2k] @ceylonsilvergirl said: HAPPY Y2K EVERYBODY!! I am joke, but it did give me serious “turn of the century’’ vibes. oof… that sentence hit me like I drank out of the wrong grail

that was intentional, that's also why we started with the macarena in the 1990s :>

on [errands] @crypptiid said: ME! MY ROLLATOR IS BLUE AND EVERUTHING @sunflowerinthemidst said: oh look it's me only my walker is hot pink 1😅😂

nice! I should really repaint mine if I'm ever feeling well enough lol

on [the last roundup] @gudetamalover said: :O!!! I’ve been noticed! My surgery went very well btw, thank you! [details removed for privacy.] I love your art so much btw, it brings me and my mom so much joy! I love this little pink dude, he’s got a permanent place in my heart ❤️

man that sounds rough, good thing it got ironed out quickly! and I'm glad it brings you both joy <3

on [errands] @pilcherthegreat said: oooo might add this one to my Kirby brigade tattoo 👀

oh hell yeah that sounds so cool! (for anyone else wondering, tattoos on your own body count as personal use and are totally fine by me!)

on [screaming] @persimmonlions said: i always forget how much i do not like the chaotic cacophony of a crowd until i am in a mall, like ‘oh yeah i DO get overstimulated no wonder i constantly skipped classes when i was 10’. anyway i got back home at 3 and proceeded to sleep for 6 hours

ugh omg yeah especially when you actually reblogged this 2 months ago and there were still holiday crowds and all the extra decor and stuff, the mall can be So Much.

on [macarena] @unconventionalvoidaxolotls said: holy heck, go kirby go! oh yeah this is a great first post. beautiful

ehehehe it's an honor :3

on [plushies] @the-void-is-a-disappointment said: finally getting around to reblogging this but thank you bunches for the commission!he looks so comfy and cozy i love it, he deserves this

he does! he does deserve to be so cozy and cute! (and thank you again for the support!)

on [bloodstream] @lord-chiopet said: Kirby in my blood could fix me

well he certainly wouldn't make me worse lol (fun fact: you kind of already have a bunch of kirb-likes in your blood! macrophages are a type of white blood cell that engulf and isolate or destroy foreign matter like splinters, viruses, and even tattoo ink! they're basically eating anything that tries to get into your blood that's not supposed to be there -u- )

on [fire] @jupiterlandings said: kirby I am hurrying to you with blankets and a tent and a warm meal, we may be in the wilderness kirby but we can still look at the stars even when the night is cold. and even if we can’t see them they’re still there and they’ll send the sun to look after us tomorrow. it’ll be ok kirby we’ll be ok

waah this is just such a sweet thought ;n; thank you for sharing it.

on [frown] @shapeshifterwithafez said: get well soon OP :c <3 this kirby nevertheless brings joy to my dashboard thank you!

I will not but thank you! I'm glad he brings joy regardless :)

on [worm] @thecosmickitty said: Hey fam just wanna say i love your art. Thank you for sharing (:

aww thanks!

on [mcas] @untoldsoup said: Im sorry about the health issues 😞 hope you get the treatment your looking for

I appreciate it <3 it's still gonna take a while one way or the other, but hopefully eventually someone will do something.

on [float (up)] @ceylonsilvergirl [added] a ufo to abduct him, then on [rainbow] they [added] an alien kirb to greet him, and on [freckles] they [added] the view out the ufo window :) this little saga was very cute and did cheer me up a bit, thank you <3

on [float (down)] @angst-and-fajitas said: Ah he's floatin away

the kirb's not made for helium balloons! (a reference to [this vine], and good news this upload is actually from the person that made it!)

on [sacrifice] @joekingv1 said: *sits next to baby and waits to see what happens*

I really wanna draw a short comic for this but it seems like I'm not gonna feel up to it anytime soon -n-

on [stars] @gidkog said: *GASP* at world’s ass…

oh no you're right :x that was not on purpose lol

on [earring] @roboticutie said: yay!!!! he's here again today :D thank you!!!

your enthusiasm is sweet! he will be here every day! :)

on [sora] @ducksandlemonsandbigoldfish said: Kiev Kernel Kirby I hate autocorrect

this made me laugh lol

on [sora] @canvascoloredin said: congratulations! I've played all the kingdom hearts games (except Melody of Memories, Sorry Kairi), and started when I was around six but haven't had the time to buy a console I can play 3 on. Have fun for me!

I haven't played melody of memories yet either, the rhythm for all the rhythm minigames was always so janky that I'm kind of worried about how it might play tbh. but I am having lots of fun, I'm sure it's enough for both of us!

on [tattoos] @theraphos said: high five kirby i just recently resolved to finally get myself a tattoo this year also

nice! I hope it goes well :)

@turpial-thoughts asked: hi

hello!

on [worry] @graycoin said: I hope the wait is worth it.

yeah me too :s (thanks. and for all your other sympathetic comments whenever I complain about it as well <3 )

on [float (side)] @joekingv1 said: *asks baby what they think about when they go floating*

probably very little I imagine. even less than usual lol

on [bread] @joekingv1 said: *asks baby what they got while secretly hiding some extra treats for baby, Bear and Cake*

this one is just very cute, I had to read it aloud to my partner when I saw it.

on [sea] @graycoin said: This gets across the vibe very well. I get why you'd feel that way, I think. It's understandable. I'm glad people are trying. You deserve it.

thanks. I've always had a hard time conveying like, internal stuff for some reason, so it's nice when it seems to make sense to someone else.

on [sea] @ceylonsilvergirl said: Kirbo is in the storm, tossed by the waves, threatened by lightning at any moment in the dark. not even the stars to shine through the clouds. but he’s still floating, and that has to count for something

surely it must count for something TnT <3

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magnus-falafelking · 2 months

Text

OOC (fierrochase high school au fic im starting)

FIERROCHASE BAND AU

Chapter 1

Blue Jolly Ranchers Rock

“Come on, Magnus, it won’t be that bad. It’s just a school.”

“I was homeschooled my whole life, Annabeth. This is bad.” I crossed my arms.

Annabeth Chase smiled serenely, “I promise you it’s not. You’ll make new friends and stuff.”

“I thought you were gonna introduce me to your friends,” I raised an eyebrow.

“I am,” Annabeth hesitated, “But you should make other friends as well.”

“Hmph,” Was all I said to this. What I really wanted to do was ask Annabeth if she was embarrassed by her weird cousin with chin-length unkempt blonde hair. Oh right, I reminded myself, that’s me. I looked up at the big bricked building. I definitely did not want to be here. After my mom, Natalie Chase died, I went to live with my cousin Annabeth, her father, and step-family.

I was thankful for them of course, but I always hated the pitied looks from my relatives.

My mom was dead and that was that. End of discussion. Don’t feel sorry. It’s fine.

“Come on, Mags, we gotta get to the front office to get your schedule and meet your guide,” Annabeth said, starting up the sidewalk to the front door.

Her words sent panic flowing through my system.

“Wait, what guide?” I asked, stopping my cousin by grabbing her arm.

Annabeth sighed and yanked away from me gently, “I forgot to tell you, I’m not gonna be showing you around the place. I can’t, I’ve got an algebra test first period!” Annabeth looked at me with, sorry Magnus, work always comes first because I'm such a nerd, but you’ll survive!! still sorry though! grey eyes. Grey eyes were pretty much a Chase family trademark. Mine were the same shade.

“It’s fine,” I muttered. And maybe it was. Maybe the guide would be totally cool. I’d be friends with them and I would have a not-so-horrible first day. Or maybe the guide would be a total jerk and I would have a miserable day.

It was a 50-50 chance.

Unfortunately, I had no choice but to take the chance.

Annabeth swung the door open and I saw an old lady secretary sitting behind a computer, typing away.

The lady smiled when she saw Annabeth, “Good morning, Ms. Chase,” she said to her.

“Morning, Mrs. Davidson!” Annabeth said and then whispered to me, “Get on her good side. She’s got a whole jar of blue jolly ranchers on her desk.”

“Uh,” I started my sentence in a very cool, impressive way, “Morning,” I said to the old lady.

“You must be Magnus Chase, our new student,” Mrs. Davidson glanced at me once before pulling open the desk drawer and pulling out a slip of paper—my schedule.

“Here you go,” she handed me the paper and peered at me over her glasses, “Welcome to Half Blood High.”

Chapter 2

Samirah Studies me Like I’m Her History Textbook

As a new student, I certainly did not get the fresh pick of classes for my sophomore year.

Biology, Algebra, Geography, English, PE, and Spanish

Boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, and boring.

And then for my elective, I got…art?

Art. Magnus Chase and art? I was sure the people who arranged this schedule were messing with me.

I would’ve much preferred choir or something. I liked to sing. And I was actually sort of good at it.

I didn’t have anything against art, I just kinda sucked at it.

I guessed I’d have to get over the sucking if I wanted to pass.

My mother, however, was great at art. She’d paint me pictures every birthday, and hang them on my bedroom wall.

By the time I was 13, 13 painted pictures were hanging above my bed.

And now there were none. All the paintings were burned in the fire. Along with Natalie Chase.

I turned to Annabeth.

“Where my guide?” I asked.

“She should be- “

The office door swung open.

A girl with dark olive skin ran in. She wore a green hijab, jeans, a dark purple hoodie, and black sneakers. She wore an exhausted expression.

“Sorry I’m late,” the girl panted, and then her eyes met mine, “You must be Magnus,” She sighed.

“Uh, yeah,” I cleared my throat, “Hey.”

The girl looked at me like she was trying to figure me out.

Good luck! I wanted to tell her. I can’t figure me out myself!

“I’ll be your guide. My name’s Samirah,” she finally said, “But call me Sam.”

“Cool. You can uh, call me Magnus,” I stammered.

Sam laughed, which meant she thought I was funny, or an idiot.

The second option was probably the one.

“Well Magnus,” Sam glanced back up at me, “I guess I should start showing you around.”

After about an hour of a tour from Sam, I got a pretty good idea of the place.

“Any questions?” Sam asked when we returned to the main foyer.

How do I get out of this? But I didn’t actually say that. I asked my brain, which didn’t have an answer. What an unhelpful brain.

“No,” I cleared my throat, “Thanks for uh, showing me around.”

“No problem,” She said, “It’s about to be lunchtime so we should get to the cafeteria,” Sam started down the hall.

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” I followed behind Sam.

I wondered if I’d get to meet Annabeth’s friends. From what I had heard, they were kind of popular at school and were really nice.

I had already met her boyfriend, Percy Jackson, who was super cool and was on the swim team.

But there was also Jason, Leo, Frank, Hazel, Nico, and Will, who were mysteries to me.

I also wondered if they were too cool for me. Which was cringey, but just how I felt. I wondered what Annabeth had told them about me.

And ultimately, if I were to join the group, 9 was an odd number.

Woah. I was kinda jumping the gun.

I hadn’t even meant them yet and I was worrying about being a ninth wheel?

Calm down, Magnus, I told myself.

“Magnus?”

Someone else said my name.

It was Sam, who had stopped walking and turned to face me.

“You okay?” She asked.

“I’m- yeah im good.”

I wondered why she cared. Sam was nice, but she’d only just met me.

Sam considered me, her brown eyes interlocking with my grey ones.

Now, usually if I were to make such serious eye contact with a cute girl, I’d be a complete mess. But Sam looked at me with eyes that were narrow and accusing.

“I’m trying to figure you out, Magnus Chase. This whole time, you’ve barely said anything to me. Are you sure you’re fine?”

I hesitated but quickly nodded. I jumped as the loud bell rang.

A look of realization came over Sam’s face.

“Are you nervous?” She asked.

Embarrassment washed over me.

“Uh, I don’t know,” I said.

“Ok. So you’re nervous. I get it. First day can be hard. But Half Blood High is a relatively open minded and friendly place.”

“Relatively?”

“You just…have to look out for the right people is all,” Sam’s expression softened.

I could tell she was one of the right people.

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Now let’s go to lunch.”

“Annabeth!” I spotted her by her curly blonde hair.

She was walking into the cafeteria with Percy and pretty cocoa haired girl with light brown skin.

Annabeth glanced at me wore a tight smile and gave me a small wave.

I told Sam thanks and bye, and waked up to Annabeth.

“Is this Magnus?” The girl beside Annabeth asked.

Annabeth sighed, “Yep. Piper meet my cousin, Magnus Chase. Magnus, meet my best friend, Piper McLean.”

“Sup,” I said to Piper.

“Sup,” Piper smirked.

“Sup,” Percy added in, giving me a fist bump.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. She grabbed my arm and led me into the cafe, Percy and Piper following right behind.

Annabeth led me to a circle table in the middle of the cafe where 5 other students sat.

She pointed her finger at each of them and told me their names.

The dude Piper sat next to was Jason Grace. He was a tall guy with short, straight blonde hair and glasses. He had a small scar on his upper lip and greeted me with a small smile.

Next to Jason, sat Leo Valdez. He had light brown skin and dark but wide eyes that seemed to have a spark in them.

“Uh uh uh,” Leo interrupted Annabeth, “Not just Leo Valdez. I’m Leo Valdez bad boy supreme.”

Annabeth just sighed.

“If Calypso was here she’d agree!”

Next to Leo was Will Solace, who seemed like a ray of sunshine with his tousled curly blonde hair and cheeks littered with freckles. He smiled at me and waved.

Nico di Angelo leaned against Will’s shoulder. He looked at me with dark calculating eyes. The look wasn’t so much hatred, as it was how Sam looked at me a few minutes ago.

Speaking of Sam, I wondered where she sat. My eyes darted around and saw Sam sitting with a red haired girl, an African American guy, and a muscular guy. They were laughing, joking and smiling and having a good time. They seemed nice.

But I turned back to Annabeth’s friends.

“Okay well that’s everyone. Hazel and Frank aren’t here right now. They’re at a Save Our Strays meeting. Bye now,” Annabeth told me.

Bye?

“I thought I was-“

Annabeth gave him a warning look but with a bit of exasperation.

“Go sit with Sam,” she told me.

A rush of irritation flowed through me.

I went to sit with Sam.

“Oh! Hey there Magnus,” Sam was surprised as I set my lunch bag down.

“Can I sit here?” I asked her.

“Of course,” Sam pulled out the chair for me and then turned to her friends, “This is Magnus Chase.”

“The guy you were showing around? Aka the reason you were absent in calculus this morning and I couldn’t copy off of ya?” The girl with curly red hair asked Sam with a smirk.

“Yep,” Sam replied and then introduced me to all her friends.

The red haired smirking girl was Mallory Keen.

The muscular guy who seemed to be close with Mallory was Halfborn Gunderson. He held up an hand and waved at me.

The African American guy with short girly brown hair and light eyes was T.J.

As I sat down and said hi to them, I noticed an object sticking out of Mallory’s book bag. It looked like a…

“Mallory,” I started, my eyebrows raised, “What’s that?” I asked.

Mallory looked from me to the knife.

“Oops,” she stuffed the knife in a different pocket so that it was hidden, “Silly me.”

Silly me?

“What were you gonna uh, use that for?” I pressed.

“Just a precaution,” Mallory assured me, “Sometimes us girls have to take certain precautions,” And she ended the conversation with a one syllable laugh.

“There’s so many people transferring to Half Blood High,” T.J told me, “First you and now Sam’s…”

“Brother.” Sam finished after a bit of consideration.

I thought about that. Why would Sam attend Half Blood High but her brother is just now transferring?

Sam seemed to read my mind.

“He’s my half brother. He just got out of a…situation and moved here,” Sam shifted uncomfortably.

I nodded. I understood situations very well.

“Anyways,” Sam cleared her throat, “We’ll get to that tomorrow.”

“Where’s your schedule?” T.J then asked, “We should see if you have any classes with us.”

I dug in my somehow already unorganized book sack and pulled out my schedule.

“Cool! We’ve got calculus together!” Mallory pointed at his second period class and glanced at Sam, who was also in that class.

“Thank god,” I muttered.

I really didn’t want to go through 10th grade calculus alone.

“We’ve got PE,” Halfborn noticed.

With his muscles, I would’ve assumed Halfborn was on the football team or something like that. But he wasn’t and that’s fine. That just meant I wouldn’t endure physical torture alone either.

“And we’ve got history together along with Sam and Halfborn,” T.J smiled at me.

“Cool,” I nodded and picked up my schedule.

I ate my sandwich as I watched Mallory and Sam get into a deep conversation about alternative bands.

“You like twenty one pilots?” I asked when she mentioned them.

“Yeah. I also like Weezer and The Killers,” I told her, unscrewing the cap on my Gatorade bottle.

“Me too,” Sam smiled.

“Oh great. Now they’re going to geek out.,” Mallory sighed.

“Now,” Sam looked at me with a glint in her eyes, “Blue Album, Green Album, or Teal Album?”

“Oh, Blue Album all the-“

The bell rang.

We groaned.

“Well, I’ve gotta get to English. You better hurry, Magnus. The art room is upstairs,” Sam informed me.

So I rushed to my class.

Chapter 3

Nico Di Angelo is a Dam Good Artist

“Sorry…I’m…late,” Magnus said between tired breaths.

“It’s only your first day, Chase. I’ll let it slide,

The teacher, Mr Blitz, told him. He was a stout man with dark skin, long dreads and an interesting fashion sense.

I studied the room and I found an empty seat next to one of Annabeth’s friends, Nico di Angelo.

He looked at me with the same dark eyes he had given me at lunch.

I sat down next to him.

It was the only open seat.

“Today, class, you will be continuing the portrait project,” Mr Blitz told them, “For those of you who have just joined us, you will draw a portrait of someone special in your life. Now, get started and get creative!”

I grabbed a sheet of blank sketch paper from off the counter and started to sketch the shape of a head.

Though, I wasn’t sure whatever shape I drew sufficed as a head but it would have to do.

I glanced over at Nico, who was working on two portraits. One was visibly a girl, the other a boy. If there was anything Nico was, it was a dam good artist.

He seemed to have finish the boy before the girl, because I could tell who the boy was— Will Solace.

From their body language at lunch, I wondered if they were together.

“Are you judging my art?” A gritted voice spoke.

I looked up. Nico was glaring at me.

“I- well- um- you see-“ I spluttered.

“I’m kidding,” one side of Nico’s mouth upturned ever so slightly, “I like to joke.”

I couldn’t tell with the way Nico presented himself as dark and brooding. I guess all that “Don’t judge a book by its cover” crap pays off.

“Your portraits are good,” I told Nico, glancing back down at them.

“Thanks. I’m going to give this one to Will,” Nico said, gesturing to the finished product.

Nico had a slight Italian accent that was very prominent when he said his i’s, making “Will” sound like “weel”.

“Is- is Will your…” I left the words hanging, hoping Nico would finish for me. He did.

“My boyfriend,” He raised an eyebrow, “Yeah. He is”

Nico seemed the defensive with these words.

I, personally had no problems with information. Boy dates a boy, girl dates a girl. Whatever. It didn’t matter.

But from how uptight Nico seemed about the subject, I assumed he’d gotten judged in the past.

So I said, “That’s cool.”

Nico relaxed. “Yeah. It is.”

As time in the class ticked by, I was busy with my portrait. I decided to make it of my mom. Surprise, surprise.

Nico ended up helping me with the head since I guess I did it wrong or something.

At the end of class when the bell rang and Nico waved bye, I had to wonder, were me and Nico di Angelo now friends?

The rest of the day passed by relatively quick. I had biology, PE, and Spanish in the afternoon.

When the bell rang, I met Annabeth at her car.

I wasn’t that happy with her after lunch, but she was my only ride home.

I slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. Annabeth got in, turned the key, and pulled out of the parking lot.

…

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Sure, I believe that,” Annabeth’s tone was sarcastic.

“You should,” I told her.

“Is this about what happened at lunch?”

I shrugged.

“Magnus,” Annabeth turned to me when we pulled up at a stoplight, “I was just-“

“Are you embarrassed by me?” I had to ask.

“What? Mags, no. Of course not.”

“Then why'd you push me away from your friends? They're too good for me?”

“No!” Annabeth groaned, “You're taking this out of context. Magnus, I just want you to branch out. Have other friends rather than mine! Is that so bad.”

I shrugged.

“Would you stop that?” Annabeth said, “I'm trying to help you be independent, meanwhile you're stubborn.”

“I just thought you'd be by my side.”

“I'm not holding onto your leash or anything. I'm not your caretaker. For gods sake, I'm not your mom, Magnus!”

I don’t know why, but when Annabeth said this, something inside of me just snapped.

Not snap as in yell at her.

No. I just stayed silent, letting Annabeth’s guilt sink in.

Her face paled, considering her word choice, “Magnus, I-“

I shook my head. Hard. Tears threatened my eyes but I didn’t give in.

I stayed silent the rest of the car ride. So did Annabeth.

Chapter 4

Percy Mourns Over his Car

I woke up at 6 am to get ready for school. I ate breakfast across from my cousin in silence. But I was kinda tired of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I was mad at Annabeth, but I couldn’t stay salty forever.

It just wasn’t possible. Not when Annabeth was as kind and cool as she was.

“Uh,” I cleared my throat, “I heard there’s a dance next week. You taking Percy?”

Annabeth looked up at me with surprised eyes, “Yeah. The whole group’s going.”

I nodded. Personally, dances weren’t my thing. So I’d probably stay home.

“You could, um, tag along,” Annabeth offered.

I smiled. I really did appreciate Annabeth’s offer. And I was about to take it but, as I said, dances weren’t really my thing.

What can I say? I’m a homeschooled kid. Big events freak me out.

Annabeth smiled.

I liked the terms we were on now.

Even if they just covered up a problem. Better than having the problem stick around.

After I got ready and Annabeth finished up doing whatever takes girls so long to get ready, we headed out the door to Annabeth’s car.

“Oh, Mags, I meant to tell you earlier, we’re gonna pick up Percy,” She told me, sliding into the driver's seat as I got in the passenger side.

“Cool,” I nodded, “Why?”

Annabeth smirked, “His car broke down.”

“Oh.”

“So that kinda means you gotta move to the back.”

“Will I have to watch you two kiss?” I asked, moving to the back.

Annabeth scoffed but smiled, “Shut up.”

I just smirked and laid back in my seat.

When we pulled up to Percy’s apartment complex, I could see Percy jogging out. He got in the car and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Annabeth kissed his cheek.

I joked about a fake gag.

Percy turned to me, “Sup, Magnus?” He smiled.

“Nothin much. You?”

“A lot. I’m starting a job at the public pool to make some money to pay for a new car,” Percy grimaced.

“Yeah- how did that even happen?” I asked him.

“It just gave out on me!” Percy threw up his hands.

He sighed, “Man, and I liked that car.”

“There are other fish in the sea,” Annabeth smirked.

When we got to school, Percy went to walk Annabeth to class. I knew he loved his girlfriend, but the really advanced AP classes were at the far end of the school. If I were him, my legs would be screaming.

I made my way to first-period history, where I reminded myself I’d see some of my friends, TJ, Sam, and Halfborn.

Halfborn and TJ were already in the classroom when I walked in.

They came up to me and we started chatting.

“Hey, Gunderson!” A rough voice called to Halfborn.

Halfborn’s face twisted with exhaustion and frustration, “What do you want X?”

A big, strong guy with shaggy blonde hair walked up to them.

X’s lips curved into a sour smirk, “I was just wondering who this here is,” he glanced at me, “And apologize to him for having to join your pathetic band of weirdos.”

“Just leave us alone, Xander. Magnus chose to hang with us,” But TJ looked at me after saying that, his eyes asking: right?

“Yeah,” I said quietly, “I did.”

I wasn’t quiet because I was ashamed.

I was quiet because I was nervous about the guy looming over my friends and me.

“Hmph,” Said X.

“Whatever, X,” Halfborn glared at him, “You’re just salty because I left the team.”

X opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the teacher telling the class to quiet down. X grunted and went back to his seat while TJ, Halfborn, and I sat down in our seats.

I got worried when Sam didn’t show up to class. Was she sick? Was I allowed to worry? Were we, like, friends?

When class dismissed, I asked TJ about Sam.

“She’s showing around her brother, remember?”

“I forgot,” I said. But of course, Sam would be the one showing her brother around. I wondered what he was like. I wondered if we might be friends. Sam was in 11th grade. What grade was her brother in? Would he be in any of my classes?

Halfborn walked next to us, looking sort of dejected.

“Uh, you okay?” I asked him.

“I hate X,” He told me

“He seems like a jerk. Is he mean to you a lot?”

“Ever since we got into a fight and I left the football team.”

“Why’d you leave the team?” I wondered.

“Because I hated him. He talked about Mallory,” he replied.

“Really?”

“He was mad because she turned him down.”

“He liked her?” I asked.

“A lot. But Mallory was already dating me and she wasn’t interested. So she turned him down.”

“And he blamed you.”

Halfborn snorted, “He said I was “holding her back” Mals got mad at this of course, and wanted to murder him, but I handled it.” He said with a grin.

“But now he taunts you mercilessly,” I nodded.

“Every. Single. Day,” TJ said, frustration in his voice.

“Sorry,” was all I could think to say.

“No one's fault except that jerk’s” TJ assured me.

We stayed silent, the three of us walking side by side, until I had to go to calculus. So we parted ways and I made my way to the classroom.

I sat next to the apparently murderous Mallory Keen and pulled out my workbook to do the problems on the board.

We ended up working on our books all class. I watched the clock longing for the minute hand to just speed up. Would that be too much to ask? I ended up giving Mallory free answers because, you know, friendship.

When the bell rang I was glad to leave. Not Mallory, the class. In fact, I walked with Mallory to English and talked to her, asking about Sam’s brother and the jerk X.

Mallory sighed, “Did Halfborn mention this crap with X happened like, two years ago? When we were freshmen?” She asked.

“No,” I answered, surprised. Why was the dude so hung up on a 9th-grade unrequited love?

I went to English, where I found Piper McLean, Will Solace, and Jason Grace. They invited me to sit with them and I accepted their offer. I soon learned they were a fun bunch. I also learned they had some sort of loathing hatred for our English teacher, who was tight-faced and had a nasal voice that gave me a headache. Seemed as if everyone did. I assumed I would soon.

I practically zoomed out of that classroom when the bell rang for lunch.

Chapter 5

The New Kid Punches me because I am an Idiot

I met Halfborn, TJ, and Mallory at the lunch table.

“Hey Mags,” Mallory nodded at me.

“Have you seen Sam and her brother yet?” TJ asked me.

“No,” I replied, “I thought they’d be here.”

Halfborn shrugged, “Maybe she’s still showing-“

But he was cut off by Sam’s voice saying, “Hey.” Behind me. I turned around to face her, but when I saw the kid next to her, I forgot how the breathe.

The kid’s features struck me like lighting. A charismatic expression, wryly smile, green hair sprouting from dark roots, and two-toned colored eyes. The right eye was brown and the left one seemed to be a bronze-ish gold. There was a name for eyes like those, but I didn’t remember what it was. My mom always called them David Bowie eyes.

The kid wore a checkered sweater vest on top of a collared shirt, lime green jeans, rose-high tops, and a pink sweater wrapped around his waist.

“You can stop staring now,” The kid told me.

“I- I wasn't- you-” I blushed and looked away.

Sam whispered something to the kid, who went, “Yeah, yeah I know. I’ll introduce myself.”

The kid turned to the rest of us, “I’m Alex Fierro. Nice to meet you I guess.”

Alex pulled out the seat next to mine and plopped down, making himself at home.

“Is he-“ Mallory started

“She,” Alex corrected.

“What?” Mallory asked.

“Call me she unless and until I tell you otherwise.”

“Yeah but-“

“She and her,” Alex said firmly.

“Alex is genderfluid,” Sam told the group.

A stuffy, uncomfortable filled the area.

Awkwardness.

I hated awkwardness.

Maybe a joke would make things less tense.

“Genderfluid? So you uh, switch between genders? Do you assign a gender for each day of the week? Monday you’re a dude, Tuesday you’re a girl?” I attempted to crack a smile.

And apparently, my joke was so unfunny and idiotic that I earned a punch square in the face from Alex Fierro.

It wasn’t a horribly hard punch that would result in my nose breaking or bleeding.

It still hurt like hell. I’d probably have a bruise.

I didn’t blame Alex for hitting me. It was a lame joke. But why oh why did she have to have such a good punch?

“Agh,” I held my head in my hands.

“Magnus!” Sam exclaimed and then turned to Alex, “Why’d you do that?” She asked her.

“I- well he was being sort of stupid,” Alex pointed out.

“Maybe, but you shouldn’t have punched him.”

“The guy can take it, Sam.”

And she was right, I could take it. But that doesn’t mean I wanted it.

“Fine- it’s fine-“ winced, putting up my hand.

“I should still take you to the nurse,” Sam said.

She glanced around the cafe. Everyone was staring.

“Get back to your lunch, people!” Alex announced.

And they did. Because Alex Fierro was the kind of person you wanted to listen to.

Sam sighed. “Come on, Magnus, let’s go tell the nurse you ran into a wall.”

The nurse gave me an ice pack for my supposed run-in with the wall.

“Sorry, Magnus,” Sam apologized as we made our way down the hall.

“It’s not your fault,” I said.

“I know. It’s Alex. She’s just-“

“No it’s fine, I was being stupid.”

“I won’t deny or confirm that but Alex shouldn’t have punched you.”

I just shrugged.

“She hates this whole thing, you know?”

“Hates what?

“Being at a new school. Getting judged,” Sam replied, “She’s been judged by everyone her whole life. Classmates, adults. Even her own family was…toxic.” That hadn’t seemed to be what Sam wanted to say at first but she left it at that.

“Oh. So she’s wary of people. That’s why she punched me,” I guessed.

“Probably. But maybe she just didn’t like your comment. I didn’t really like it either. You need to work on your humor, Chase.” She shot me a smirk.

I smiled, “Yeah, I do.”

The bell for 4th period rang before we could even get back to the cafeteria. Luckily, Sam and I had brought our things with us in case of this. So we just headed to class.

I had hoped to avoid Alex Fierro for the rest of the day. Not because I hated her for punching me. Because I wanted to give her time to cool off so that I wouldn’t need to go to the nurse for a second time.

But luck is never in my favor, since Alex Fierro was who I saw in my art class, chatting with Mr Blitzen.

Mr Blitzen pointed at me and Nico’s desks, which couldn’t be a good sign, and turned back to Alex and continued speaking.

The horror only got worse.

Alex sat down in Nico’s empty seat. Where was Nico? I silently cursed him, as his absence would most likely result in another bruise.

I slowly made my way to his seat, not saying a word to Alex.

That was until she slapped two crisp dollar bills in front of me. One was a ten, the other a five.

“Uh, what’s this?” I asked.

“Payment, duh,” Alex smirked.

“For-for punching my face?” I pointed to my bruise.

“What else?”

“You don’t have to pay for my face,” I shook my head.

Alex snorted, “That sounds weird.”

“It does.”

“Anyways, if you don’t want my money then I guess…”

I sort of did want it. I’d probably be able to get a new comic book with that money. But Fierro didn't need to give me apology money.

“You can take it back,” I told him.

“Whew. That's a relief. I kinda need that money anyways,” Alex said. I wondered why but decided not to ask. Maybe it had something to do with the “situation” she had gotten herself into.

We stayed silent. Alex had gotten a paper to work on her own portrait. I couldn't quite tell who she was drawing. A boy, but he wasn't familiar. Of course not, since I wasn't connected to Alex in any way except for Sam. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized. I had seen Fierro before. I wasn't sure exactly when or where, but I was pretty sure I might've seen her on the street or in an aisle at a store in my old neighborhood.

“His name is Adrian,” A voice broke my train of thought.

“What?” I looked up at Alex.

“The guy in my portrait,” she clarified, “His name was Adrian.”

“Oh, cool,” was all I could say. Because I caught the “was” and wanted to talk about it. But I didn't want to make Alex uncomfortable, or worse, earn another punch.

She looked at my paper, “May I give you a suggestion? Outline the proportions before you start on the features.”

I looked at the portrait. The proportions were out of place. That's why my mom's eyes looked so weird.

“Thanks,” I told her.

“Least I could do since I kinda gave you a black eye,” Alex shrugged.

“Is it that bad?” I asked.

“Nah not really,” Alex answered, “The bruising is only under your eye,” she said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

And we were silent while working on our projects for the rest of class.

I didn't know what to do with Alex Fierro. She was intimidating. Intense. But at the same time, she was intriguing. I wanted to know Alex Fierro. I wanted to figure out what she was all about.

But how could I dig deeper without hurting her? (which would result in hurting me)

After class, when the bell rang, I decided to do something.

I stopped Alex Fierro on the way out.

“Can I have your number?”

Alex raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Uh, because I wanna text you,” I replied.

“Why?”

“Because that’s what friends do?”

“We’re friends?” Alex raised her other eyebrow.

“I mean, do you want to be…?”

Alex shrugged. “I guess.”

She gave me her number.

Chapter 6

Sam lets me Have the Aux Cord

“Magnus!” Sam called to me.

I was walking in the student parking lot, heading to Annabeth’s car, when I spotted Sam and Alex standing by a blue Mazda.

I walked over to them.

“I didn’t know you could drive,” Sam said, “Are you sixteen?” She asked.

“No, I’m fifteen,” I answered.

My birthday was in January. It was currently March.

My mind went back to the time when I was thirteen. My mom promised me she’d get me a car for my birthday. She’d already started setting money aside when I started junior high.

“I want to get you a sports car,” She told me one day when we were on the road.

“Why?” I asked, “Aren’t those expensive.”

“Maybe,” mom sighed with a sad smile, “But you know, high school girls like riding in sports cars. With the top down, a cute guy next to her.”

“Ew,” I said.

My mom gave a soft laugh, “You might say that now, but that’s how I met your father.”

My mother’s eyes looked tired and sad. That’s how they always looked when she talked about my dad.

“Uhh, Magnus?” Sam waved in front of me.

“Oh, sorry,” I apologized and looked at her car, “Nice ride,” I told her.

“Thanks,” Sam smiled, “Alex and I were just about to head back home. You need a ride?”

I hesitated, but then said, “If it’s not too much trouble.”

I wondered if Annabeth would mind. Probably not. She was driving Percy home anyway and I really didn’t feel like being a third wheel.

“It’s not. And I’ll let you have the aux,” Sam smiled.

“But I thought-“ Alex started.

“Let the guy with the black eye pick the music,” Sam said firmly, “Besides I’m tired of listening to Odetari.”

Alex rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. But I call shotgun!” Alex slid into the passenger side seat.

Sam looked at me with exhaustion. Being Alex’s sister must be tiring.

I got into the back seat and Sam got in the drivers side.

After buckling up I pulled out my phone and texted Annabeth that I was riding with Sam.

Me: I’m riding with Sam. She’s gonna drop me off. Don’t be mad.

Annabeth: why would I be?

Me: idk tell Percy hi for me

Annabeth: k see you later

“Well, Maggie, ready to play us some sick tunes?” Alex asked, glancing back at me before opening the top mirror, pulling out a tube from her bag and touching up her eyeliner.

“Don’t call me Maggie,” I said, taking the cord as Sam handed it to me.

I plugged my phone in and opened Spotify.

I tapped on my main playlist that included my favorite bands. Arctic Monkeys, The Neighbourhood, Weezer, and The Killers.

The first song that came on shuffle was 505.

Alex put her eyeliner away and grinned, “I absolutely love this song,” she said.

“Is this…Arctic Monkeys?” Sam asked, “I have their AM record.”

As the song went on, I started singing quietly. Not too loud, or I’d probably ruin the song for Alex and Sam. But still, I sang. I loved singing this song. I felt a rush of satisfaction as I hit the notes perfectly.

My favorite lyric was about to come up and I sang my heart out when the singer sang: I crumble completely when you cry

When the song ended, I found Alex turned around in her seat, looking at me with a daring glint in her eye.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” She exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Sam looked at me in the rear view mirror, “Magnus that was…awesome!”

“T-thanks,” I told them. I didn’t know what to do with this compliment. I had a love for singing since I was little, but nobody had ever told me my voice was awesome.

“I wish I had my guitar with me. I learned to play that rift a while ago,” Alex told me.

“And I could totally learn that on drums,” Sam added.

We were all quiet for a second, deep in thought.

“Are you guys thinking what I’m thinking?” Sam asked over Weezer’s Sweater Song.

Alex smirked, “We should start a band.”

“What?” I asked. I was thinking it too, but I didn’t know they were serious.

“We totally could,” Sam agreed.

“I’m in, obviously,” Alex said.

“So am I,” Sam looked at me, “You in Magnus?”

“I-“ I paused. Maybe this was good. Maybe a band would be the perfect way to get my mind off of things, “I’m in.” I made up my mind.

@imasimpdealwithit i think you wanted to read this lol

#rick riordanverse #pjo #mcga #alex fierro #fierrochase #magnus chase #samirah al abbas #fanfic

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trashworldblog · 9 months

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so beth good omens huh

YEAH

[s1 spoilers ahead]

its really good and i have alot of emotions that i havent quite worked out yet. but heres some thoughts:

- Very Good

- this healed a part of my former catholic currently religiously traumatized soul. obviously a show like good omens would hurt some sore spots, even unintionally just due to the aesthetics, right? WRONG. i never thought id be able to watch something that has to do with religion and not feel uncomfortable. but somehow, i got through the entire first season without feeling that discomfort. maybe ive grown, maybe its the show. but the way they... did... well, everything felt so disconnected from the catholicism i grew up with.

and the show is obviously catholic (at least to my experience) everything is story book catholicism, and yet... it feels different. maybe its god being a woman of color (i believe?) adam and eve being people of color, the gay angel and demon eye fucking every so often, and the honest depiction of first testimant things being Fucked Up, even for a demon, feels so disconnected from the white washed, hateful, church i grew up with. so it didnt hurt watching it. not for a second. and that made me incredibly happy.

- the use of queen music is killing me and so fucking perfect. first of all, all bangers. obviously. its queen. second, theres something about queen, and its place in the queer community, mirroring nicely with crowley and aziraphale. i cant quite put it to words yet.

- the camera angles in heaven being incredibly uncomfortable and awkward, literally warping the angles to be gigantic monsters. if they used normal camera angles and focus lenses, heaven wouldnt look too off. empty and barren, yes, but otherwise fine. using these low or up close shots makes my neck sweat and physically want to lean away from my tv. so good!!!! immediately shows they are very much not the heros in this story. also heavan and hell wanting war so bad showed that heavan was NOT on humanity's side. they were on heavans side. it made a beautiful common enemy for aziraphale and crowley and the humans to be up against. i hope they explore aziraphale and crowley and humanity vs the afterlives in the future.

- GAY PEOPLE!!!! THEY ARE SO IN LOVE!!!! AND AFRAID!!!! i hope they use this break after saving the world and showing their people theyre invincible to holy water/ demonic fire to get together!!!! they wont but i can dream!!!

- the idea of people always watching and keeping score is so terrifying when you think about it. no wonder theyre terrified. theyre existence is to just do what angels and demons do. and they have to do that forever without break. can you imagine how exhausting that must be?

maybe for a regular demon and angel thats fine, but aziraphale and crowley are a bit more then that. theyre in a slight gray area, and it cant be easy to do ONLY holy or ONLY evil things. add on to that the horrors of being on earth for a long time. you cant get attached to much. people die, things go out of style, animals and plants go extinct, libraries and art burn, things get lost and lost media is heartbreaking.

-the actors are really good. like these mfs are in LOVE LOOK AT THEIR EYES. wow. best "im in love with you but im hiding it" eyes ive ever seen. also i need to watch the finale again to appreciate the body language used to show that theyre in swapped bodies.

- the plot is really good and interesting!! i was afraid of missing crowley and aziraphale when we switched to adam or the witch hunter or the witch but i didnt miss them most of the time! i was super intrested in how adam would turn out without crowley or aziraphale's influence. and the witch stuff was pretty interesting too! some times i got a little lost in it all and got distracted, but tbh thats the adhd experience so.

-theyre so stupid and yearning and blind to eachothers emotions i love it

conclusion: good show! i am reading alot of fanfic about it and i started a side blog to store some good omens stuff on. i enjoy this blog being my personal and watcher blog, and i kinda wanted to have a good omens layout so, sideblog! ill still reblog some good omens things here, but most of it will be over there.

#good omens #thanks for the ask!#finalgirl posting

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flowerxguts · 8 months

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Hi I just wanted to say I loooveee your ocs so much 😭😭😭 they’re actually so cool and silly and awesome and im honestly going crazy 😭😭😭 your writing is really amazing !!! I’d love to hear more

i hope you know you literally just became my best friend with this ask.

THANK YOU SO SO MUCHHH AAAAHHHHHHHHH i’ve never had anyone who wasn’t already my friend comment about my ocs so this is so so special to me literally thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read my fic + send me this it means so much to me AAHHH you just made me week <33333

my entire page is dedicated to my ocs so if you’re interested you can always scroll!! i post metas + snippets of fics/ ficlets + and a lottt of art. i’m always open to asks and explaining things because i’m well aware i don’t have a big explanation post with all my ocs and their universe (i’m working on that trust) honestly i’m open to any asks ever you can request anything you want and there’s a 99% chance i’ll do it

here’s an older fic of mine i never planned on posting (it takes place a few years before What Are We Gonna Do Now? which acts as a parallel of their relationship in this fic) in appreciation of your ask <33

——————— ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ OC FIC ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ————————

“Eleanor?”

Dion can hear Damiens voice coming from behind him, the sound of footsteps accompanying. He doesn’t move from his hunched position over the roofs railing, not even to glance an acknowledgment to his friend.

In all honesty, Dion had heard him when he was climbing up the fire escape, but chose to blatantly ignore it, avoiding the inevitable emotional probing questions for as long as possible.

And Damien was, in fact, asking one of those questions. He was asking “what’s wrong?” or “what are you thinking about?” in a round-about way where he asked if the obvious answer to the question was right.

Usually, it would annoy Dion a bit, but tonight he is almost grateful that he doesn’t have to say her name himself.

Damien comes to stand next to him, leaning against the railing of the roof just as Dion is. He is looking at his friend expectantly, waiting for a direct answer. Dion just grunts in response, flicking the end of his lit cigarette.

Damien seems unphased by this, still determined to be there for him.

“She was your kid, man.”

Something within Dion aches, a heart string snaps. Eleanor wasn’t his daughter, not in her eyes.

He grimaces, an ugly feeling washing over him “She wasn’t my kid; She was my sister.”

Was.

He can feel the look Damien is giving him before he even looks over. Dion is lying. Anybody who ever met him would know this. After little delay he dares to dart a glance to his left and is immediately met with a pitiful look, raw with emotion.

He can’t find it within himself to argue, so he lowers his head in grief, resigning whatever rebuttal he had at the ready.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“You raised her.” Damien states, still attempting to back up his claim. He reaches over Dion, grabbing the cigarette for a moment.

Dion snorts, staring down to the sidewalk in front of their home, the gate is locked because no one else is coming home. Everyone who lives here is present. He scrunches his nose in disappointment, “Clearly not with enough common sense.”

Damien frowns. “You’re being hard on her, Dee.”

Neither say anything for a moment. Dion doesn’t want to talk, not really, but Damien’s here now to do just that, so he might as well not fight it. He’s too exhausted to anyways. And at least Damien had the decency to leave him alone for a few hours beforehand.

Dion’s ears twitch at the sound of a heavy sigh after about a minute or two of silence. The cigarette is returned to his hand and he’s grateful.

“…I’m not saying I agree with her, but…”

Damien pauses, looking at Dion as if though to test the waters. Dion is looking at him, open to hearing what he has to say, but now it seems as if he can’t get the words out.

Damien bows his head, voice much quieter than before, “I mean, if Elizabeth was right and our mom was… not how I remember,” he swallows, afraid at the very notion that he had twisted his own memory. Hesitant to admit the possibility that his sister could’ve had some justification for what she had done.

“…and she came back to me after all those years, saying she’s changed and wants another chance…” Damien looks up at Dion before continuing, pursuing eye contact. Dion can’t help but notice that his eye bags appear more prominent in the nights ambient lighting. He looks younger, smaller.

Desperate, his mind supplies, he needs you to understand this.

“I’d still fall for it.”

Dion’s aware of how his face changes, how he furrows his brows and his jaw hangs open in shock.

The declaration took him by surprise.

The truth is he doesn’t know the full extent of what Elizabeth had claimed about her and Damien’s mother, but to say that even if Elizabeth’s alleged justifications for killing their mother were true, that Damien would still risk it for a chance, was no less than horrifying. Dion’s thoughts run rampant, trying to fully digest the information and apply it to his sisters own situation.

Even after all the horrible things their mom had done, a childhood of nothing but neglect and drug use, choosing to ignore the way all her convict boyfriends would look at her daughter, barely even glancing in their direction, Eleanor had been hanging onto hope that she could have a mother. She wanted someone, older. To hold her, soothe her, teach her how to get by in the world. Someone who would love her unconditionally.

He had done all those things. He had raised her. There’s no reason she needs to run to anyone else for those things, he wants to scream.

Dion feels a surge of energy, but before he could shake his head and begin arguing, Damien cuts him off, turning his head away to hide his face.

“Fuck, man. What kid wouldn’t do anything to see their mom again? What person wouldn’t?”

“Me.” Dion spits, anger boiling to the surface. “I wish I’d gone the rest of my life without ever seeing her.”

Damien sighs, hands curling into fists. He is still not looking at his friend, head still turned off to the side. Something in his tone is pleading.

“Dion you knew your mom. Know her. Eleanor doesn’t. You protected her from it. And now she’s old enough to make the choice herself to stay. How old was she when you left with her?”

“Eight… maybe nine.” He responds thoughtfully.

When he looks to his left his eyes meet Damien’s.

Something within him clicks.

Damien had been in Eleanor’s situation in a way.

Dion had made the choice for Eleanor at the time. To take her away. When she was younger she didn’t want to leave, but she had listened to her older brother, because what else could she do? She trusted him, even if he hadn’t given her a reason at the time. She never really knew the reality of what their situation was because Dion wouldn’t let her. He did not regret that. Not in the slightest. But he can’t lie and claim that he’s denied his little sister the right to know their mother.

Damien’s older sister had taken their mother away, stealing the chance to know her entirely.

Damien understands Eleanor even better than he does in this circumstance, and it stings. While Damien and Eleanor’s situations weren’t the same, they bore similarities in one key factor: their older siblings hadn’t let them know their mother.

He wants to say that seeing the pain on Damien’s face now twists something in him. That the reminiscent plea in his eyes, the begging to be understood, reminding him so much of a younger version of Eleanor, makes him regret taking her. He stares, trying to change his own mind to no avail. He was right in what he had done. He knows that. He had to be right.

His eyes start to water, a new memory fizzling to the surface of his mind.

“The last thing I said to her was that she can’t come back.”

Damien gives a sympathetic smile, his tone is warm when his responds, “You didn’t mean that though, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. Not anymore.” He states. He had said it out of a place of childish anger.

“Well, she’ll come running back and when you see her you’ll hold her in your arms and it’ll all be forgotten.” The words are kind, spoken so softly they make the hair on the boys arms prick up.

“No.” Dion shakes his head, eyes downcast to the ground. He can’t forget this. Because he knows the voice in his head that keeps begging, after everything I sacrificed to save you, please stay, even after Eleanor has gone, will never go away. “I’ll take her in my arms but i’m not going to forget this.”

Damien isn’t smiling now, but the look in his eyes is still kind, “That’s enough.” he replies earnestly.

Dion doesn’t look at his friend. He stays silent, stuck in his head. His last interaction with his sister hadn’t been kind. And if somehow their mother was able to stay clean for her, would that be it? Would that be how it all ended between them?

“Hey,” Damien’s voice is so gentle you’d think he was talking to a wounded animal. He reaches out, warm palm pressing against the nape of his friends neck. His fingers wrap lightly around the base, thumb running over the shaved portion of his hair.

The physical connection pulls Dion from his spiral.

“You did everything you could for her. You protected her, but some things you just have to learn on your own. It’s out of your hands.”

After a moment his friends touch retracts and a long-forgotten cigarette is plucked from his hand.

“…I’d take the bitch to court if I could.”

It’s the truth. If he could have custody, have the legal justification to tell his mother that she has no right to the child he raised, he would. In a heartbeat. Even if it meant his life would never be his again.

It’s not like it ever was in the first place, a voice in his head muses.

He swallows, feeling guilty, because he knows he didn’t mind that. He’d give up his childhood a millions times, relive it all, if it meant Eleanor was safe, here, with him and not with her.

Damien barks a laugh, clearly not as emotionally preoccupied as Dion. He quickly slaps a hand over his mouth, then continues in a lighter tone.

“Yeah, the day we have enough money for a lawyer and aren’t living paycheck to paycheck.”

“Paycheck.” The statement is more than laughable to Dion, pulling him from his contemplative state, and causing his lips to curl into a disbelieving smile. “You’re a fucking dealer.”

“Okay,” Damien all but scoffs, though there’s a humored twinge he can’t seem to separate from his voice. When Dion glances Damien’s way he can see that he’s fighting a smile, trying his best to look dead serious. He fails, miserably so, breaking out into a full-toothed grin. It’s infectious. He meets Dions eyes, continuing, “well then, when my small business takes off, don’t expect me to pitch in.”

The two boys break out in a fit of laughter from the shear ridiculousness of the claim. Damien shushes him, clapping his arm and looking back towards the fire escape. The cigarette they’d been passing back and fourth rested between Dion’s fingers, burnt close to nothing. The low embers heat creeped up to the older boys fingers, though he didn’t stub it out. He sighed deeply, relishing in the pain a moment, breathing in and out. In and out. It grounded him, cleared his head.

The quiet drags on, and the air settles heavy around them, all previous joy having been fleeting.

In the distance what is likely a prostitute can be heard calling out to men, attempting to entice them with crude language. There’s loud laughter from nearby bars, as well as yelling, bar fights likely. Sirens, though relatively quiet, can be heard ringing from somewhere farther North.

For a moment, Dion almost thinks maybe it’s for the best she got out of here, and it hurts.

“I thought you promised Morgan you’d stop dealing.”

There’s a beat of silence, then two. Damien seems hesitant to answer. There’s a huff, not quite a laugh, but an exhale with some form of humor.

“I promised her I wasn’t going to be ‘fucking stupid’.” The way Damien says the words, there’s evident affection, but also very evident quotation. Hell, Dion can practically hear Morgan saying it. “Money is good right now. It’s getting us by comfortably.”

Dion doesn’t respond. Silence falls between the two once more.

The mood shifts gradually, an unspoken agreement of the conversations conclusion is reached.

Neither move for a minute or so, soaking in the others presence, the cold February breeze biting at their skin.

Dion continued looking out mindlessly at the town, his eyes having long blurred. He was too stuck in his own thoughts to care to refocus them. A million thoughts all following the general consensus of Eleanor was really all he could think.

While his conversation with Damien may have concluded, it didn’t mean he was able to stop thinking about it.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as his friend reaches over, wincing slightly as he grabs the burnt-to-nothing cigarette, stubbing it out on the rusted railing.

“Alright, I’m going to head in. Gotta get back before Morgan completely takes over my side, that is, if she hasn’t already.” Damien states with some degree of casualty.

Dion wants to smile. He does. He wants to give a knowing look to his friend, hell, make fun of him for how domesticated he is. But he doesn’t. He stays staring out at the illuminated town. One his sister was not in.

He registers the sound of receding footsteps, but still doesn’t make an effort to move. Mulling over the conversation, a thought suddenly rushes forefront to his mind.

“Damien.” he hears his voice before he can even think.

“Yeah?”

The brunette stops and turns around, curious.

“Are you using?”

They both understand wordlessly what he means: Are you shooting up? Because honestly Dion could care less about his friend getting high.

He turns his head back, eyebrows knit together. He chews on the inside of his cheek, fear bubbling inside him.

Damien’s face is straight. It’s rare to see him with an expression completely devoid of humor, or at least of a softer emotion. The air between the two is tight and all of a sudden it seems twenty degrees colder. Dion knows these words are heavier than a ton of bricks. He wishes he didn’t have to ask the question at all. He trusts him, but not enough to be sure he can help himself. Because if he is dealing again, who’s to say?

“No. I’m not.”

“Good.” Dion says, because there’s nothing else he can say.

He’ll take the words at face value. The last thing he can deal with right now is Damien losing his shit. If he was able to think before her spoke, maybe he wouldn’t have asked. But he asked. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he didn’t ask.

“Do I need to worry about that?” Damien asks, curtly nodding towards the stubbed out cigarette.

Dion follows his eyes, feeling his teeth automatically clamp down harder on his cheek, blood festering.

Of course he would notice.

There’s still no trace of emotion on his friends face, only an earnest look that reaches his eyes in a way that makes Dion feel sick. He wishes he could say that Damien was just saying this out of a place of anger, that he was only insulting him because he was the first to ask are you still an addict. He wishes he could say no.

“I wouldn’t dwell on it.”

Damien clicks his tongue, eyes roaming over Dion skeptically.

For a moment Dion is worried that he isn’t going to get out of this. That instead of grieving alone Damien wouldn’t leave, looking over his shoulder the whole night. Waiting. Maybe in silence, maybe with mundane conversation. Staring at the inside of his bicep when he thought Dion wasn’t looking, like any minute the scars would magically revert back to fresh wounds, start bleeding again.

“Well, you know where to find me.” Damien sighs, defeated.

“Yup.” The response is automatic, mindless. He feels relieved for a moment. He wants to care more, to appreciate his friends concern, but he can’t find it within himself right now.

“I’m serious, Dee. You wake my ass up if you need me.”

Dion pushes himself up a bit, no longer leaning his full weight on the railing. He hopes the action will mean something to Damien, that standing on his own two feet will somehow prove that he doesn’t need a crutch right now.

One hand remains on the bar of the railing.

“I promise.”

He’s finally looking at Damien head on, eyes fully taking in the worried look on his face. His friends lips are taut and lines have formed between his eyebrows. Damien’s shoulders are slouched in a defeated manner Dion can’t stand. Guilt washes over him, he looks down, unable to meet brown eyes. For a moment he considers, a million different options run through his head. He settles on one after a fair few seconds of deliberation.

Dion gives his softest smile back. He means it.

Damien nods, the smallest bit of relief finally tainting his lips.

He disappears to the side of the old building without another word, swinging himself over the edge and climbing down the fire escape.

Dion waits to hear his friend’s shoes hit the cold concrete of the buildings floors with a familiar thud, but no such sound comes. His eyebrows knit together after a moment of unpredicted silence. He didn’t hear a splat, meaning his friend thankfully hadn’t fallen off the side of the building, but why was he so quiet? It takes him a moment to piece together the logic, exhaustion slowing him down, but he exhales in amusement as he realizes: Morgan was sleeping.

It makes sense now. The hand over his mouth at his own abrupt laughter, shushing Dion’s, his overall hushed tone. Damien didn’t want to wake her up.

He really is in it bad.

Once he confirms his friend has safely made it inside, Dion rubs his eyes, the full weight exhaustion coming over him. He yawns, looking out at the town again, resuming his position.

The I love you is unspoken.

#tw: referenced/implied sh #jesus i never realized this was so long #anyways anyways #i’m working on fics 24/7 (i have like 10 started and some of them are like 90% of the way done)#so i’ll make sure to post them now that i know you’re interested!!#i’d say i hope you don’t think im weird and strange after this but weird and strange is such a wonderful thing to be so instead i hope you #enjoy it #<3 #talk to me whenever!!!#->#oc fic #oc: dion #oc: damien #oc: eleanor #oc: morgan

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b1gwings · 5 months

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15 Questions for 15* people

haiii i got tagged by @babacontainsmultitudes & @oakay :3 thx for tagging me this is fun !1!!

1. are you named after anyone? I named myself after Clay from the Wings of Fire book series :) I started going by Clay a little over three years ago, I think? When I was thinking about changing my name, I knew I wanted it to be after a character that was really important to me, and Clay checked all the boxes. I think he was the first character I ever looked at for real and went "wow he is so me" LMAO. he's also where my username comes from, too...

2. when was the last time you cried? i want to say it was listening to dndads or taz but i think the real answer is in the middle of finals week after an INCREDIBLY cathartic phone call with my mom

3. do you have kids? no and I don't think I ever want to LMAO

4. what sports do you/have you played? i don't play any sports right now. i played soccer when i was, like, five years old but i HATED it

5. do you use sarcasm? yes but in an autistic way. where allistic people think im being serious and other autistic people know im joking and then they respond to build on the bit and then i can't tell if they're still doing the bit or not. you know

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people? IDK AUGHHGH. i think how someone's hair looks?? if they're wearing any cool jewelry??? im so bad at being aware when im meeting people LMAO

7. what’s your eye color? green-ish grey :]

8. scary movies or happy endings? i don't think these things are opposites but I think happy endings for sure. those little dudes have already gone through so much :( let them ride off into the sunset and live the rest of their lives in peace :(

9. any talents? idk lol ? i consider "talents" to be stuff that you're naturally good at, versus "skills" being things you actually put time into improving or whatever. i'm naturally good at sliding my joints around (sarcasm) and i can do funny voices sometimes (real)

10. where were you born? the swamp (florida, usa)

11. what are your hobbies? drawing, writing, and d&d i think are the main ones right now :] i've been drawing a lot more recently and not feeling super exhausted about it, which has been lovely!!

12. do you have any pets? YES!!! A WONDERFUL LITTLE DOG... her name is Buffy & she's a rescue so we don' tknow what kind of dog she is but she LOOKS like she could be some kind of rat terrier mix ? i love her with my whole entire heart. she's my best friend. lmk if u want me to send u pics of her :3

13. how tall are you? i don't even know. 5'6" i think? im taller than my mom who is 5'4" and shorter than my friend who is 5'8" so we'll go with that

14. favorite subject in school? in high school, art class was my favorite. I adored my teacher; he was the best ever. but i was MISERABLE when i took an art class in my first semester of college. im a creative writing major now, so probably that idk. history & social studies n that kind of stuff has always been super interesting to me, too

15. what is your dream job? i would LOVE to eventually be in some kind of writers' room one day. playing & running D&D games has opened my eyes to just how much I adore storytelling with collaborative aspects. being able to just...make something with other writers...building off of each others' ideas...getting excited about it together... it feels so magical to me.

*anyway i think i have to tag 15 ppl now but idk if i know 15 ppl so im just going to tag as many as i can think of (literally no pressure if u don't wanna do this lol)

@itsbrucey @maxwellamus @flowercrowns-n-punks @kronoose @meteortrails @thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls @simonsnow-irl @lemonofthevalley @iersei @raemeh @phillycheesesteakcore @officialgleamstar

#long post #OH MY GOD save me cool mutuals save me #sorry if any of you dont like being tagged!! D:#again there's absolutely no pressure to do this #social anxiety get absolutely destroyed. i did it

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phunkybeets · 4 months

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"Weird music requires weird people. In Pike's case, It's hard to imagine making 10-minute-long songs about Babylonian Gods and marijuana moon miners if you're not a bizarre conspiracy theorist.

Cracking down on those weird people, or having incredibly specific standards for the kinds of weirdness they can express or indulge, inescapably means a crackdown on weird music. Fewer Matt Pikes means fewer bands like Sleep and High on Fire.

The corollary is that the continued production of weird and good music requires a pretty broad tolerance of people with weird or even bad beliefs."

SOMETHING ON MY MIND RECENTLY RE HUMAN PSYCHE AND ART

Art is one of the only refuges we have for freedom of true expression and true human nature that is not intensely patrolled and condoned/rejected by civil society. Freud said that repressed human emotions and behaviors are funneled into sports. Art and sports protect free human expression, almost like a pressure valve. It gives human society an okay place to explore desires many of us have. I think this is why Kanye West's music is so popular. He has no censor and makes amazing art, that taps into something primal that many people feel deep down, but would never actually realize because to be an artistic genius you literally get shunned by modern society.

There is a HUGE desire for the average person to brush up against all sides of the human condition, not just behaviors that are deemed alright by civil society. Stadiums full of fans, bleachers filled with young people singing along to violent music lyrics. I think it is a huge threat to art when people cancel artists for the artists personal behavior and beliefs. Especially if the lyrics aren't even hateful etc. Some of the most beautiful art is the most extreme and truthful and raw. It gives the artist and audience alike, a protected medium to explore a side of the human condition that is completely disallowed were it any other form. Some artists are complete oddballs, but to some extent I think that comes with the territory of being a successful artist.

Can you separate art from the artist? Does the artists personal behavior and views really matter if you like their art?

Mike White (producer of The White Lotus) said in a podcast "im not always going to a movie to have my own political beliefs confirmed” Why has this become the norm in 2023?

I saw a tweet that I thought was interesting. Not necessarily my beliefs but “i don’t believe its our place to judge. with time we revisit so many points in our life w new depth, continuing to interrogate the world & our place in it.” I think it speaks to the subjectivity and fluidity of our own judgments. As we age and are introduced to new experiences and people, our judgments may shift as well. It speaks to the diversity in human experiences.

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revelarete · 5 years

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good. night to all.

#eva speaks #im so tired imma just Go #i always think of ways goro couldve been written better #then think abt p5r and how i p much dont care as long as i get more goro #sigh #how it be to exhausted sometimes #ooo i also have some minimal effort sketches that ive been wanting to upload to my art blog so get ready for that #i still have to figure out fire alpaca but yknow what #ive started using another program and it works like rlly well #so imma use thaaatttt sorry firealpaca mwah #ill make a good digital drawing when i have the time!!!#ok #thanks for reading all of this of you did #💖💕❤️❤💞

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hello-yue-here · 3 years

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thank you @chiptrillino for tagging me in a wip game!

not quite sure what the rules are but based off of your AMAZING POST OF ART WIPS (check it out here yall chip is so talented) ive decided to just share some parts of my writing wips that i rlly like because i cannot draw whatsoever lmao

enjoy some lil snippets hehe

from heart don't stand a chance:

"Zuko couldn’t get over her eyes. She was looking past the camera towards the man who took it. Zuko could see clear as day the love she held for Sokka in her gaze.

It was a perfect moment that Sokka had captured. No wonder held it with him at all times. If someone had looked at Zuko like that, he’d never want to see anything again.

As he took in the photograph, Sokka sat next to him in silence. His hand was clutching the ring around his neck again in his fist, pressing it close to his mouth as he peered over Zuko’s shoulder to look. Zuko turned to him to compliment the picture and saw a sad fondness lingering in his eyes."

this is a scene i wrote a while ago thats gonna appear in a much later chapter. but yeah. more yue angst for you guys im so sorry.

from i love you (and that's all i really know):

"Mister Sokka," a little voice wishpered in his ear as he felt tiny pokes on his cheek, "Wake up Mister Sokka."

"Good morning to you too Izumi," Sokka responded wearily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked towards the little girl who was standing on her tippy toes to see over the edge of the bed and poke his face until he rose.

She smiled at him once she realized he was awake.

"Can we have pancakes?" She asked shyly, hiding her mouth just below the edge of the bed as she looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

That look was going to be dangerous for him later on, he could aready tell.

"Sure thing, Izumi, just let me sleep for five more minutes, mkay?" He asked as he shut his eyes again. He was exhausted from last nights events, and the sun had barely risen. How did Zuko do this?"

this is a scene from the next chapter of this fic. so much sokka and izumi bonding you guys are gonna explode hehehe.

from cherry (the mailee fic i wont shut up about that is now a whopping 19 pages):

"Mai never had to guess with Ty Lee. She always knew when Ty Lee was happy about something because she would use an obnoxious amount of exclamation points. She would send gifs of people or cartoons making outlandish expressions whenever she wanted to react to Mai’s text with a specific facial expression. Sometimes Ty Lee would even send voice memos whenever her thoughts became too long, or she got too excited about a story that her fingers couldn’t type as fast as she could speak."

hehe i love mailee.

from yours (the mailee sorority fic that i promise i did not forget about):

"Mai lifted her head off the pillow again and met Zuko’s eyes. She studied his impassive expression, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. He did seem like he missed Mai and Azula, so maybe he did really just want to catch up with them.

But Mai wasn’t going to give up a golden opportunity like this.

“Tell us everything about the boy toy as well and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Mai said.

Zuko rolled his eyes and sighed, “Ugh, fine. And his name is Sokka by the way.”

“Nuance. You also have to wake up Azula.”

“No chance in hell,” Zuko scoffed, “You’re the roommate and her fellow ‘pong princess,’ wake-up duty is all yours.”

“If she murders me, it’s your fault. She’s a bitch when she’s hungover.”

“Whatever you say, Mai,” Zuko grinned before returning back to his phone."

i have decided that zuko is a little shit for this fic and no one can stop me.

from Where'd All the Time Go? (the yuekka fic that i have severe writers block with that i also promis i have not forgotten about):

"“Sokka I really think you need to take a moment and-”

“I am fine Aang, I don’t have time for a feelings talk right now. Right now I need to find the fucking chief of this damn place.” His words came out harsher than he meant, but he didn’t have the time to dwell on that.

Before Sokka could run off again to continue his search, a hand grabbed his arm. One of Arnook’s advisors, Malina, had started dragging him towards the podium.

“Do you not realize how late you are for this Sokka? The ceremony was supposed to begin with your speech nearly an hour ago-” she hissed at him as she pulled him along through the crowd.

“Malina I’m sorry but I really need to speak with Arnook it is urgent-”

“This damn speech of yours is what’s urgent right now Sokka, you can speak with Arnook later but the guests are getting antsy so you need to give your speech right. Now.”

“But-”

“Now.”

Maline shoved Sokka towards the podium and suddenly all eyes were on him. Every guest in attendance had their focus solely on Sokka."

homeboy is stressed in this scene. things are slowly going to shit in this chapter. i promise i will update this before the end of the year. i swear. im so sorry.

from a currently untitled jetko/sukka boiling rock fic:

"“Oh good, you survived after all,” She said in a mocking tone.

Jet didn’t answer. He knew anything he said would be used against him. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what was happening. But he would be damned if he showed that weakness in front of the fire nation.

“I was told you were more talkative than this,” the girl mused. There was something familiar about her, “my informants were very detailed when discussing your little teashop romance.”

I knew it. Jet snarled in his mind, That bastard betrayed me."

i want this fic to be a little darker but idk how good i am at writing darker fics because i love fluff and humor too much. this could be good angst practice for me.

from a toph and sokka fic that i wrote a while back to help me cope w some shit that i dont know if ill ever post:

"“Sokka? Are you still there?” Toph asked, the slightest hint of concern began to slip into their voice

“Tell me a story,” he was trembling. Despite all of his efforts to sound calm, he knew his voice came out trembling and scratchy and pathetic-

“Is everything okay? You don’t sound too hot,” Toph said through the phone.

Breathe, Sokka, breathe. You don’t want them to be worried, you just need to calm down.

“Please, Toph, I just,” he said through shaky breaths that weren’t nearly deep enough for him to be getting enough oxygen, “I just need a distraction. I just need to hear your voice okay?”"

nonbinary toph anyone?

from a 10 things i hate about you kataang and zukka au:

"“What? Something on my face?” the guy asked deadpanned. He rubbed at his scar as if he were wiping off a smudge of mustard, and Aang’s face went pale.

“Stop scaring the sophomores Zuko, this one’s new. He won’t get your… humor… just yet,” Ms. Wu said as she waved Aang off again.

“I’m hurt that you’d imply I’m not funny, Wu. I’m hilarious,” the senior, Zuko, said as he walked past Aang.

Aang let out a sigh of relief knowing that this Zuko guy didn’t seem all that offended by his awkwardness, and darted out of the room."

zuko is a little shit part 2. the amount of sarcasm i have dripping off of heath ledger zuko is glorious. let zuko be a little shit. i havent added to this in months but when i finish some of my other wips i cant wait to get back to this.

i have more wips and drafts saved but none of them have anything juicy or funny or interesting yet because all of them are like less than three pages so far

but yeah, heres a good chunk of sneaky peakys from my wips!

I hope you liked them!

anyone who wants to do this can totally go for it. imma tag @ambykinns @lumities and @flowers-inthepieshop (only if you all want too!!) because this was fun :)

#liv talks about writing #liv talks ab fanfic #liv wips #liv fics #i love sharing my writing #especially when i have a bit of a block going on with well.... every fic #maybe this will give me inspiration!!!#i love sharing my writing im proud of these little snippets and i hope you all likes them as well :)#atla #avatar: the last airbender

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faithinthefuture28 · 4 years

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Larry songs timeline & what it tells us about the evolution of their relationship

**These are all just my interpretations but the more I listen to the music they wrote, the more it all fits together. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THROUGHOUT THE YEARS THEY’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT WRITING “AUTOBIOGRAPHICALLY” AND “FROM PERSONAL EXPERIENCE”

I deffo missed some songs but these stood out to me:

2013

L-Strong: Love isn’t easy (waves trying to break it) but what we have means something and it’s worth fighting for. read: love is only for the brave (Think of how much love that’s been wasted...there’s nothing i’m running from...i don’t care, I’m not scared of love) And we bring out the best in each other so lets not throw this away (i’d do anything to save it...when i’m not with you i’m weaker).

H-Happily: I want to fight for us too bc we’re on fire and our love is powerful af. ik we have to do stunts and stuff (and if (s)he feels my traces in your hair, sorry love but I don’t really care) but what we have is insane and fuck everyone else bc you’re MINE and i’m YOURS at the end of the day (i wanna be the one who holds you when you sleep). Together, we’re magic so just be with me so happily

H-Something Great: ****this song is very straightforward so i won’t explain it much***** (i want you here with me like how i pictured it so i dont have to keep imagining... We’re better off together here tonight). Written as a longing for what could be if they dont have to suppress the relationship. (script was written...want to rip it all to shreds) Louis’ response (you’re all I want so much it’s hurting) basically says “it’s not too much to ask babe, i want it too.” This has the kind of longing that ‘wouldn’t it be nice- beach boys’ which Harry has admitted is kind of a theme song.

L-Through the Dark: I know all this bs we’re going through is taking a toll on you and hurts you and i hate seeing you upset (you tell me that your sad...you tell me that you’re hurt and youre in pain and i can see your head is held in shame...i just wanna see you smile again) but I will do everything physically possible to protect you from any pain bb (i’d never let you fall and break your heart, if u wanna cry or fall apart, i’ll be there to hold ya). We’re going through this together and I will take on any responsibility needed to keep you happy. I’M WILLING TO GO THROUGH HELL TO FIGHT FOR US HARRY LOVE (entire chorus basically).

L-Better than Words: holy fuck our love is amazing can’t even describe it can i just sing to you foreva love u babycakes

L-Why don’t we go there: what if...we just forgot about the world and escaped and enjoyed each others love and rode the high??? Also sex

2014

L-Ready to Run: *******Followup to Why Don’t We Go There*********** But this time let’s escape for real bc (there’s me inside a sinking boat running out of time). Like i’m ready to get out of here and it could just be us living happily ever after (this time i’m ready to run). Honestly nothing else makes sense (without you i’ll never make it out alive...wherever you are is the place i belong). I know what i want out of life and IT’S YOU HARREH (i want to be free and i wanna be yours, i will never look back).

L-Steal My Girl: all u thirsty hoes find someone else bc Harry is MY pretty princess. Srsly ask his family. But you can still admire how he looks in those jeans. We all do. You know the ones

L-No Control: boy u fine, let’s do what lovers do IN THE MORNING. bc we can. also you own me and i am urs

L-Clouds: WE KNEW THIS WAS GONNA BE HARD SO WHY ARE YOU BEING A LITTLE BITCH (you dont like it complicated...but love is never ever simple...you are tired of all the changes, but love is always always changing). We could be great yo, just keep fighting (if we’re never coming back down, we’ll looking down on the clouds...we go and we go and we dont stop)

H-Where do Broken Hearts Go: IM SORRY LOU BABY YOURE EVERYTHING (rest of my crimes dont come close the look on your face when i let you go... the taste of your lips...is at the top of the list of things i want). H&L’s call and response at the end is basically forgiveness and acknowledgment (come on baby come and get me out, come on baby cuz i need you now)

H-Two Ghosts: *****was written around this time according to Harry******. This is fucking hard yo. We’re drained and exhausted and idk how much more we can fight for this... (it’s not you and it’s not me...sounds like something that i used to feel). That infatuation and electricity and hope that fueled our younger selves isn’t really there anymore and i’m just tired man (we’re just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat, we’re not who we used to be...this was all we used to need). We’re empty vessels going through the motions (same eyes blue, couple more tattoos). AND WE AREN’T FUCKING COMMUNICATING (we dont say what we really mean).

2015

H&L-Perfect: so what if... we get rid of the pressure of forever? What if we just have fun doing the stupid shit we love and makes us feel alive (trouble up in hotel rooms, secret little rendezvous, things you know that we shouldn’t do). Like we won’t be out of each others’ lives, I’m still around and we can find comfort in each other and even mess around here and there (I can be the one you love from time to time). Remember how we used to be young and EXCITED (when i first saw you from across the room, i could tell that you were curious) let’s get that energy back without the responsiblity of an adult relationship. And we can keep making art lmao (if youre looking for someone to write your breakup songs about).

L-Long Way Down *****this song fkn hurts man. It’s overlooked a lot but shows so much insight**** We were...everything. And maybe that’s the problem? We’ve been through so fucking much, more than anyone our age should have to endure. (We've been in fire, Went down in the flames. We sailed the ocean And drowned in the waves. Built a cathedral But we never prayed) We didn’t know what we had. We were damn kids man. We weren’t prepared for all this. We didn’t know how powerful this would be. We didn’t know what it required of us. (We had a mountain But took it for granted. We had it all yeah. Who could’ve planned it). We didn’t know what to do with it, how to deal with it, so here we are. (We had a spaceship But we couldn't land it) We’re each other’s everything, but we can’t keep going on like this babe. (We found an island But we got stranded). I don’t want to leave you but being together is breaking us down. (Point of no return and now It's just too late to turn around) We thought we were untouchable. That love conquers all. Maybe, we were wrong. This is gonna hurt like a bitch (We built it up so high and now I'm fallin', it’s a long way down)

H-Olivia: I LIVE FOR YOU, I LONG FOR YOU, I LOVE YA. And i think i’ll always love ya. And I’m scared...of life without you (i get the feeling you’re walking out, time is irrelevant when i’ve not been seeing you, the consequences are falling now, there’s something i’m having nightmares about...dont let me go). But maybe just maybe thats okay, because you’re AIMH (you live in my imagination...i love you, it’s all i do).

L-Love you Goodbye: I fucking love you and I’ll always fucking love you but i think this is the right thing to do even though it feels so wrong (i know there’s nothing i can do to change it, but is there something that can be negotiated?) We made some goddamn fireworks together though (unforgettable together held the whole world in our hands) and do ya maybe think...we can make them just once more? (if tomorrow you wont be mine, let me give it to you one last time, baby let me love you goodbye...one more taste of your lips just to bring me back to the places we’ve been and the nights we’ve had because if this is it, then at least we could end it riiiiight). ********in the interview with our FAVE Gwen Garcia, she asked if it’s better to say goodbye and end a relationship that’s not feeling right or keep trying even if your heart’s not in it. Harry responds with “I think it’s better to say goodbye...but sometimes if youre trying to protect..” Then Louis cuts him off and says “you’re going deep aren’t you”, brushing the question off as a joke but imho i think there was pain in that answer. Then Harry continues “if you’re not 100% in it, I think it’s better for both parties if you say goodbye”. And Louis adds a “yeah” at the end.********

H-Walking in the Wind: I know this is scary but i think we can do it, (you said to me do you believe i’ll be too far? if youre lost just look for me you’ll find me) I think because youre AIMH and i’m always in yours, it’ll be good for us. And look at us being mature, we’re killing it babe. We can live our separate lives and grow on our own. We dont need to make it messy and hurtful. We’re on the same page. (the fact that we can sit right here and say goodbye means we’ve already won. A necessity for apologies between you and me, baby there is none). At this point, we’re kinda part of each other right? So it’s healthy for us to be apart for a bit. (it’s not the end, i’ll see your face again... i know we’ll be alright...just close your eyes and see i’ll be by your side any time you need me). And you’ve helped me grow into the person I am, and I you, so that’s cool as hell, right? (you will find me in places that we’ve never been). We had a TON of fun (we had some good times didnt we) so i feel okay that we’re doing this (goodbyes are bittersweet) and starting the next adventure in our lives.

H-If I could fly: I. am. yours. Louis. William. Tomlinson. (for your eyes only, i’ll show you my heart). Maybe this growth thing isn’t worth it, let me prove to you how much you mean to me (i think i might give up everything just ask me to). This is gonna be hard as shit because i’m so dependent on you (i’m missing half of me when we’re apart). I’m being honest and I’m being scared and I’m being vulnerable because I can’t lie to you and pretend I’m strong (i let my guard down, right now i’m completely defenseless). But we’re part of each other, right? (i could feel your heart inside of mine). I’ll always be here for you Lou (for when you’re lonely and forget who you are) even if for now we can’t physically be together.

L-Home: I’ve tried, Harry. I’ve tried to play pretend (told myself i kind of like her but there was something missin in her eyes). But i was lost (i was stumblin, lookin in the dark with an empty heart) because none of it was enough, none of it was YOU (it was there i sawr it in your eyes). And then i met you and you felt the same and we’re both lost souls playing pretend who found magic in each other (but you say you feel the same, could we ever be enough?) Is our love enough to overcome everything? Maybe we can be enough. Maybe I can make this enough, let me try to make it enough for you. And if we go our separate ways, know that I’m here for you no matter what. I won’t let you be lost again. (When you’re lost I’ll find a way and I’ll be your light, you will never feel like you’re alone, I’ll make this feel like home). So go. wander. find yourself. Then when you’re ready, come home.

2016-2017

H- Sweet Creature: ***Harry admit that this was the first song he wrote for the album**** We aren’t in the best place rn. We’ve been fighting (had another talk about where it’s going wrong...it’s hard when we argue, we’re both stubborn). But it’s you Louis. It can’t be anyone else. (don’t know where we’re going but we know where we belong... wherever I go, you bring me home). That’s not even a question. I’m still trying to figure out who I am, but the one thing I know is that a large part of who I am is you (we started 2 hearts in one home). And aint no way I’m losing that part of myself (when i run out of road, you bring me home). It was always you.

H-MMITH: Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready (just let me know i’ll be at the door, hoping you’ll come around). I know I need to work on myself a little more (i gotta get better, and maybe we’ll work it out) but honestly i’m getting impatient and i want things to go back to how they were and i want to be yours again (once you go without it, nothing else would do). But I can’t communicate this to you clearly so let me just put this in a song and hope you get it (we dont talk about it, it’s something we dont do) ****Harry mentioned in an interview that he expresses himself through songwriting when he can’t say the words directly to a person because it’s easier to just write it in a song than have difficult conversations*****

H-ESNY: ****honestly no idea what this song is about but it’s something to do with them fighting and not communicating and being in a weird place before their relationship is rekindled******* edit: this could be about his stepdad

H-FTDT: I MISS YOU AND I’M TOO FULL OF PRIDE TO TELL YOU DIRECTLY JUST COME BACK INTO LIFE LOU I’M LONELY AND SAD AND EMPTY AND IM NOT FUCKING FINDING MYSELF LIKE YOU SAID I WOULD (woke up alone, played with myself where were you...we havent spoke since you went away, why wont you ever say what you wanna say) So until then I sit and wait for your sorry ass to make the first move (maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too...but you never do). Also like i have to hear from other people how you are?? (i saw your friend that you know from work, he said that you feel just fine) ANd you’re sharing OUR clothes with people?? wtf just swallow your pride and call me

L-Miss You: OKAY BUT I CANT JUST CALL YOU BECAUSE I HAVE PRIDE TOO also my mates are trying to make me get over you (now i’m asking my friends how to say I’m sorry, they say lad give it ttime there’s no need to worry, and we can’t even be on the phone now). So i’m just numbing your absence with partying and drinks but CLEARLY ITS NOT WORKING (should be laughing but there’s something wrong...shit maybe i miss you...when i feel it coming up i just throw it all away, get another few shots cuz it doesn’t matter anyway...such a good time, i’ll believe it this time). This is weird bc like you were my everything but im trying to get used to this and it fucking sux (oh how shit changes, we were in love, now we’re strangers). And tbh, its scary af bc what if this is it (i’m asking myself, is it over?). BUT ALSO LIKE WTF U COULD REACH OUT FIRST YA KNOW (i’ve been checking my phone all evening).

H-Anna: wtf Louis how do you not see how much this is killing me. I miss you so much and seeing you on tv or in pics drives me wild bc you’re not mine. (I don’t want your sympathy but you don’t know what you do to me...everytime I see your face there’s only so much I can take...I guess it would be nice if I can touch your body). And idk if you’re replacing me (don’t know where you’re laying, just know it’s not with me) and we’re in SUCH a weird place rn how do I tell u you’re the loml (don’t know what I’d say if I passed you on the street...don’t know what I’d tell you if you asked me for the truth) so I refuse to put this song on the album and let you know this and give you satisfaction from knowing how gone I still am for you bc I have 0 idea how you feel (hope you never see this and know that it’s for you)

L-Always You: SO THIS IS ME SWALLOWING MY PRIDE STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU SAYING IM SORRY FOR THAT NIGHT... ok but fr i miss u i miss u i miss u i miss u and nothing else compares like i can travel the whole world and all i think about is how much more fun it was with you and the memories we shared and i wish i could just say thx fr th mmrs and move on but actually no thx actually fuck you for making me not able to enjoy my life without you. So like...come home? and wrap your legs around me? also lmao i took El to a gay bar in amsterdam for her bday lmao i miss u come cuddle me and i’ll tell you all about it

L-We Made It: looks like we made it, look how far we’ve come my baby. They saidd I bett they’ll never make it, but just look at us holding onn, we’re still togetherr, still going stronggg. Also to the fans, miss our single bed and the nights we talked about our dreams :-* also Andrew my man luv u

2018-2019

L-KMM: our love was youthful and exhilarating and fucking electric and i think it still can be. dont know what i’d do without you now H

L-DLIBYH: We’re strong babe and we’ve grown and we aren’t gonna let life drag us down. I’m doing better, you’re doing better, this is what we wanted. And now any shit we go through, we’ll go through TOGETHER

L-Too Young: Okay but looking back, that was a lot of shit we went through and we were just babies and i’m sorry for not fighting harder (i cant believe i gave in to the pressure when they said a love like this would never last so i cut you off cuz i didnt know no better) baby i tried, i tried to protect you but like it was just so much and i hate that you got hurt and i wont ever let that happen again. ALso go us for being mature and COMMUNICATING (face to face at the kitchen table, we can finally have a conversation that I wish we could’ve had before). ANd i know you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry so here let ME say i’m sorry that i hurt you darling. Like we were too young to know we had everything BUT now we’re old(er) and can realize that when we’re together, we DO have everything now and omg is this our happily ever after and we can have a daughter and name her Darcy

L-Habit: do i need to spell it out for you iiiiii aaaaaaaaammmmmmm sssssssoooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy. But tbh i let you go because it felt right because mentally you were already out the door and i needed to give you room to grow babe. And i needed the space too (you gave me the time and the space i was out of control and i’m sorry i let you down). but like also i’ve learned i can’t escape you Styles. You’re always in my fucking heart and my fucking mind and in every essence of my being and somehow I knew that 9 years ago and it took me this long to realize how powerful this really is (guess that that i know what i already knew, i was better with you and i miss you now). Ooooh also my favorite line i wrote (took some time cuz i ran out of energy of playing someone I heard I’m supposed to be and honestly i dont have to choose anymore) like who am i kidding, im done pretending i just wanna be yoursss now

L-Defenseless: I can’t help it okay theres something about you that doesn’t let me stay away. I need you and I know that rekindling this relationship isn’t going to be easy even though it feels so so right. It’s going to be hard work (sleeping on our problems but we’ll solved them in our dreams, wake up early morning and it’s still under the sheets) and we need to communicate and solve our problems but here I am, raw and unfiltered and emotionally naked in front of you ready to lay it all on the table (not sure how to say this right, got so much to lose. NEver been so defenseless). So like this branch I’m reach out to you and you be honest with me too babe (you dont have to keep on being strong for me and you. Acting like you feel no pain, you know i know you do...I can’t get inside, when you’re lost in your pride but you don’t have a thing to prove). Be open with me. Lets talk. Let’s solve problems. Lets have an adult relationship. I’m asking for a little vulnerabiltiy babe. It’s just me. Theres nothing to be scared of

L-Walls: And here you have me in my purest form. No lies, no secrets, no insecurities to hide behind. Losing you was fucking painful but i got through it. I’ve been through hell and back and I’ve fought. And without you, I grew into the person I am. And any further growing i’m doing is gonna be with you. bc it was all for you babe. and honestly i can take anything life throws at me now. I’m strong baby. I’m fucking strong and fucking brave and fucking resilient and...fucking yours. ***** wtf is the I just hope i see you one day and you’ll say to me oh oh********

H-Golden: You are the literal sun and I’m not ready. YOU’RE SUCH A GOOD PERSON (you were way too bright for me, i’m hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky). I’m scared to go through this alone, I need your comfort and your guidance (i can feel you take control of who i am and all i’ve ever known). But you’re scared to go through this with me bc you dont wanna get hurt and i’m too open so where tf does that leave us. ******this could be about coming out especially with the London AND NY secret shows where Harry added the lyric I’m hoping someday you’ll open*******

H-Adore You: You dont have to say you love me, you dont have to say nothing, you dont have to say you’re mine. I’d walk through fire for you. Just let me adore Lou. Like its the only thing I’ll ever do. read: Louis is a great person to just admire what he’s like. ALso I dont need anything back. I just dont want to hide my love for you anymore. I don’t need answers or promises. Just let me adore you. ********the music video is also basically a Louis appreciation post. He was the boy with the smile that the world took away from him. He found Harry lost and loved him and nurtured him and made him confident and allowed him to be who he wanted to be. But in doing so, Harry became big and unsatisfied and wanted to explore the world and was clearly interested in Hollywood and Rockstardom especially evident in his behavior 2014-2015. And Louis wasn’t about that life and didn’t want to hold him back. So he let him free. But they realized that they don’t work apart. Wherever they’re going, they’re going together, as the boy sails into the unknown following the fish. I see it as Harry’s version of “this one is a thank you for what you did for me” ************* I see it, I appreciate it, and I love you for it

H-Lights Up: ****fight with Louis. (What do you mean I’m sorry by the way) About coming out? About fame? (Step into the light, so bright sometimes) Either way, L is the guy driving the motorcycle in the video who makes H feel comfortable and safe until they get pulled over because SOMEONE wont let them love*******

H-Falling: What if i’m out, what if i’m someone you won’t talk about? Okay maybe I lied I do want you to claim me. Would me coming out of the closet make that hard for you? I CAN’T GO THROUGH AN IDENTITY CRISIS WITHOUT YOU LOU. I picked someone supportive and now I’m spoiled and I dont know how to be with myself. You want back in my life but what if I dont deserve it? (you said you cared and you missed me too...what i’m someone i dont want around). What if you’re better off without me? (i get the feeling that you’ll never need me again). I know youve been through so much shit because of me, things you’ve never even told me about and im afraid...that I wasn’t worth it. Am I being selfish? because either way, i want YOU (what if you’re someone i just want around). Does that make me a bad person?

H-TBSL: ****Probably when they starting talking again but it was v casual and they didn’t really discuss their relationship yet*****. I MISS U BUT I WONT TELL U THAT and its nice to talk to u again i missed your voice but if u call me baby i will kill u bc that word has weight OKAY. Like i know you just call everyone babe and darling and sweetheart but baby is FOR ME and only for me when you wake up with me and cuddle me and if you think you have any right calling me baby without giving the luxury of being in a relationship with you then piss off because that shit hurts dude. (i know that you’re trying to be friends, know that you mean it...it’s hard for me to go home to be so lonely). ALso it’s not my fault i’m like this, you literally captured my heart when i was 16 like wtf do u expect (dont blame me for falling, i was just a little boy)

H-Sunflower Vol. 6: we were babies and i was so enamored by you and you’re so bright and beautiful and i want to watch you all day and make you smile and i want you to touch my hair and call me curly and i hope im not making you uncomfortable with my heart eyes but like how are you so perfect. I hope you think i’m cool, i’m really trying but like you’re SO FUNNY and charming and everyone loves you i hope im not embarassing myself. And now it’s like 8 years later and i think i can have you again and i want you so bad but i dont wanna seem too eager and im trying to have dignity and not text you first but like also i want nothing more than to talk to you. Do you think i’m cool now? did you like my new hairstyle? Do you think i’m funny on tour? I want everything i want to be domestic again and kiss in the kitchen and i want to cook for you and as;ldfa;sdhaf i want to buy you flowers everyday and shower ur cute face with kiss. boopx28

H-Canyon Moon: Hell yea i got ma man back and i have a girlfriend named Jennifer ;) and we are domestic and even though I HATE being away from him for work (so hard to leave it) we have the 2 week rule yall then i can wrap my legs around him and after so so so long I’ll be h.o.m.e. Also did i tell you his eyes are so so blue like sky who i dont know her

H-TPWK: So we’re really doing this. We don’t need to have it all figured out. We can just be us. and happy. and dance. The world loves us babe. (Giving second chances, I don’t need all the answers and if we’re here long enough we’ll see it’s all for us and we’ll belong)

H-Fine Line: You’ve got my devotion but man I can hate you sometimes....We’ll be a fine line. Between what? love and hate? public and private? out and in the closet? each others’ and ourselves? Idk. But i’m going to swallow my pride (my hands at risk I fold) because no matter what, the worst possible outcome is not having you. And I never wanna go through that again. I know we have work to do on our relationship (spreading you open is the only way I know you). And there’s lot of unknown here (there’s things that we’ll never know) but what i do know is that i cant resist you (you sunshine you temptress) and i cant be without you ever again. I think it’ll be hard as hell. But when have we known love as anything but hard? And when have we known our love as anything but worth it? We’ll be a fine line baby. But i know, i knowww with every part of me that we’ll be alright. Because these past 10 years, we’ve been through A LOT. ANd it could have ruined us and made us cynical and cold and closed off. And I think at one point it did. But you know what we did? We fought it. We fought it together. Then we fought it individually. And we became BRAVE. And a brilliant man once said, “love is only for the brave”.

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ship requests

“hi! Could I get a ship for pjo/hoo and marvel? im 5'5, I have a curly mullet, and jet black hair, im also super pale and have big dark brown eyes, I also have 2 scars on my lips from falling and 1 on my chest from surgery! Im a pansexual, asexual demigirl, I go by she/they, im usually very quiet until i get to know you better then I wont shut up and am super loud, I tend to be very sarcastic and sometimes a lil mean, but I make sure to apologize if I hurt someone feelings!! I always end up being the therapist friend of the group and them over myself, im not an outdoor person and I really just like to look down on the city of a tall building and admire the view, I love to go outside and ride my bike, I speak a lil Spanish and French!! I love reading, writing and art, mainly art like painting, sketching, and music!! I love music and listening to it while looking at the city view!! tysmm!!”

a/n: Thank you for your request! I added the request from the asks, since it was more elaborated^) Hopefully, you like it

Marvel:

I ship you with Sam Wilson

Okay, I think it’s a perfect match, tbh! He definitely needs someone by his side who doesn’t need therapy and can provide him emotional support back, since he’s always there for everyone as well.

He definitely knows when you need some alone time, and he can do his own work, read or fix something along your side when you’re working on some art piece. He would also admire your talent 24/7, because he’s not exactly surrounded by artistic people

You would make fun (in a friendly way) of the other avengers, and would always support one another’s jokes

Spending rainy days in the tower, reading in silence, and then bursting in laughter, talking about the weirdest things, which he might not understand, but 110% percent adores

Him always saying that your scars make you look like some badass movie character

New York was about to dive deep into the night, but, of course, the city that never sleeps was still full of life and lights. On the roof of the high building it was much quiter than on the busy pavements, and the view was simply breathtaking. And that is why you were sitting right there, headphones in one ear, legs crossed, wind slightly blowing the curls out of your face.

"Are you allowed to be here?" - a sudden voice shook your nerves, and you jumped up to your legs. None other than Sam Wilson was standing righ in front of you.

"Are you allowed to cause heart attacks?" - you fired back. Sam slightly smirked at your answer. "But seriously, what are you doing up here? You need any help?"

"Just... Watching, I suppose" - you shrugged.

"Well, it is very pretty up here. Even better while flying" - he smiled

"Can imagine. Why aren't you doing your super-hero stuff, or whatever you're supposed to be doing?"

"You see, I also need a couple hours of rest a day, in order, you know, not die of exhaustion. " - the smirk remained on his lips throughout the whole conversation, and you let out a small laugh.

"I see, well than, maybe you want to... join for a couple minutes, if you need any company"

"You bet I do"

Percy Jackson:

I ship you with Reyna Avila Rramirez-Arellano

First and foremost, she would be so into your hairstyle, always pulling your locks slightly, playing with your hair, when nobody sees her, because she's supposed to be tough.

Her teaching you some new Spanish words and practicing with you, making compliments in Spanish

She would trace lines along your scars gently, because she definitely thinks that scars make people beautiful and unique

She would ask you to go and watch her training, because your oppinion and approval matter to her, even though pretty much nobody else's does

When you start talking to her, telling about many things, being passionate and loud, she would simply glare at you softly, listening, opening up step by step

"I like your hair" - you and Reyna were on the grass, your head on her laps, fingers tangled in the curls.

"I like your nose" - you answered, looking through half-closed eyes. It was warm, everyone else was somewhere else, it was just the two of you, and Reyna warmed up a little as well. Her hair was loose, features relaxed, armour off - it was rare to see her like that, and you loved it.

"I like your lips" - she said, and there was a faint smirk playing on her face. You pulled yourself to your elbows now facing her.

"I like your lips too" - you gently tugged Rayna's hand, admiring the contrast of her tanned skin against your pale. Your faces were closer and closer every second. "You're gonna get a sunburn" - whispered Reyna when your lips were about to unite. You laughed and dropped on your back again. "I like your laugh" - said the girl still barely above whisper.

You were smiling, feeling so many tenderness for the seemingly tough girl - "And I like you"

Ahhh, I hope it's okay. I relly ship you and Reyna now, you would match so perfectly!! Sending love <3

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thetransguard-archive · 4 years

Note

couldnt find the promt posts but: joenicky monster/supernatural au? i absolutely adore ur writing btw💕

you cannot hand me the word supernatural and not expect me to think of buzzfeed unsolved RGEHFBRWFHKJL im sorry this turned into a ghost hunter’s au i just don’t know how to write vampires or werewolves or whatever else constitutes supernatural

nicky does not believe in ghosts.

so why is he standing in front of a long-abandoned house, carrying several hundred dollars worth of largely useless equipment, wearing a shirt emblazoned with a big cartoon ghost? he tells himself it’s a favour being returned. his room mate, lykon, is endlessly more enthusiastic then he is, mumbling to himself as he fiddles with the camera that was paid with money that probably should’ve gone to rent.

“don’t look so worried nicky,” lykon says, as they step inside the threshold. his best friend flashes him a wide grin which is immediately contradicted by the alarming creak of the floorboard under his foot. “we’ve got holy water and everything else. we’ll just check to see if there are any ghoulies in here, they can’t hurt us.”

“you know i think this is a load of horseshit. i’m more worried about the house collapsing on our heads.”

“don’t be dramatic, dude. it’s in perfectly good shape.”

as they start setting up lights, laying out their sleeping bags for preparation of sleeping the night in this place, nicky is forced to admit there’s a sort of melancholy beauty to the place. it would have been a very nice house, once, not too ostentatious like the other houses they’ve “investigated”, with high ceilings and large windows, and stunning art covering the walls. landscapes, bowls of fruit, studies of fire and light and the night sky. but not a single person. nicky notices the same sprawling signature on all of the art, and steps closer to see if he can make out a name-

“nicky! let’s start recording.”

lykon begins unrolling the backstory of this house and the ghost allegedly haunting it, and nicky interjects throughout, punctuating the otherwise dead serious narrative with bursts of skepticism and humour, the way they’ve always done. lykon’s little ghost hunting channel is small now but getting bigger every day, and nicky can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, verbally sparring with his best friend. lykon’s a believer and nicky isn’t, and while they’ll argue fiercely on camera they agree in pretty much every way off screen. apparently this house used to be home to an artist who’d been slowly making his way up in the art world before being murdered mysteriously. with no convictions, the story went that people were compelled to stay away from the house, wouldn’t be able to write without doodling, and smell fresh paint. also the standard doors opening and closing on their own, lights turning on and off, footsteps and the like. nicky was not exactly enthused to spend a night on the dusty floor, but hey. it beat sitting on the couch watching reruns of the same bland reality tv shows.

nicky’s halfway through a longwinded joke when lykon jolts like he’s been zapped, hand gripping nicky’s forearm, eyes darting around in sudden fear.

“what? dude, let go.” he elbows lykon in the ribs gently to get his attention back. “hello? what happened.”

“swear i heard a laugh, from upstairs, maybe,” he replies, face furrowed in concentration. he flashes a smile at the camera. “alright, i think we got all the background done. lets investigate.”

predictably, they find nothing. well, nothing of worth to nicky, but lykon insists that the room that used to be the studio feels colder then the rest of the house, they hear noises from inside the room once they leave it, and the spirit box spits up a few noises that lykon insists are words. a pretty standard investigation, then. they pack up their stuff and tuck in for the night. lykon spends half of it jumping at every little noise, but eventually drifts off as the exhaustion of the drive here finally gets to him. nicky turns over in his sleeping bag, hoping to salvage at least a few hours of rest from the night, but-

is that paint?

nicky breathes in as hard as he can, and it’s unmistakeable, that scent of chemicals that reminds him very vividly of the disaster that was year seven art class. he sits up, rubs his eyes. lykon doesn’t stir and nicky sniffs again. it’s still clear and strong, and now that his ear isnt pressed against the pillow, he can hear faint clattering, like the lid of a paint tin being wedged off. it’s coming from upstairs, where the artist’s studio would be, if he had to guess.

oh, fuck.

there’s a perfectly rational explanation for this, he reasons to himself, even as he crawls out of the sleeping bag to cram on some shoes and get a torch and a camera. he should probably wake up lykon, but something inside him is telling him, wait, to just see for himself first. maybe we disturbed the paint when we were in there earlier. an old house like this, it’s probably just settling. hell, there’s probably raccoons in the roof, or something. ghosts aren’t real.

the studio is... not how they had left it. it had been such a sad space, everything covered up in white sheets, shelves of paints covered in dust. now, the room is strangely warm, like the summer sun had spent a few hours streaming in through windows that were now uncovered, the night visible through dusty panes of glasses. there is an easel set up, with an empty, clean canvas about the size of a dinner table on it. and on the floor, a thin, fine paintbrush rocks back and forth, like it had just been dropped.

this was entirely too much weirdness for nicky’s brain to handle, but he wasn’t giving up on his hard line stance on ghosts just yet. strangely enough, he doesn’t really feel afraid at all.

“if this is a prank,” he says, deliberately loud in the empty room, as he bends to pick up the paintbrush. the tip of it is still wet, and the paint looks black on his fingertips. “if this is a joke, lykon, i swear-”

hi, nicky.

the words appear abruptly on the canvas, a rushed hand like whoever’s writing isn’t sure if they can keep it going. nicky almost drops the paintbrush he’s holding, but steps closer. the paint is still wet on the canvas, and it’s the same dark shade as the stuff on the brush. he shines his torch at it. it’s a very dark blue, not a black like he’d first assumed, the colour of a twilight sea.

“what the fuck,” he mumbles to himself, touching the canvas. it’s just fabric on wood. what the fuck.

did i scare you? i didn’t want to do that.

"i’m not scared,” he says, feeling oddly giddy. “this is a very strange dream.”

i promise it’s not a dream. tah-dah! ghosts are real. i am one of them.

as whoever it is writes, they doodle around their letters with incredible skill, little birds and flowers and suns circling their words. it’s strangely endearing. the paint smell gets stronger and nicky finds that he does not mind.

“what’s your name?” he asks, remembering that he is technically a ghost investigator and he should probably be doing some investigation. his phone is left forgotten in his pocket, though. he doesn’t know if he should be recording this or not.

joe, joseph, but it’s yusuf, really. the art world of my time was not quite ready for a name like mine, but i suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.

“you’re the artist, then.”

who else would i be? as far as i can tell i am the first, last and only death of this house.

“you were murdered.”

yes, but can we not talk about that? it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

the last full stop of yusuf’s sentence is darker then normal, like he’s pressed harder. nicky touches a finger to the canvas.

“i’m sorry. i won’t bring it up again.”

thank you.

nicky takes a step back, the room is lightening around him. he hadn’t realised it earlier, but the windows of this room all face east, which is why he supposes yusuf chose it to be his studio. on some level, a part of him is wondering why he isn’t screaming and running to get lykon right now. he really isn’t afraid, though. yusuf hasn’t meant him any harm.

“why did you choose to talk to me? we were up here earlier.”

it’s harder when more alive people are in my room. you take up so much energy. the handwriting pauses, like yusuf is considering. and most people are so afraid. i’ve tried talking to others before, but they get so scared. you didn’t seem frightened at all.

“that’s because i didn’t believe in any of this stuff.” nicky presses a finger to yusuf’s words, just to check. his finger comes away dark blue. “part of me still think i’m dreaming, though.”

well, you can’t see reflections in dreams, i’ve heard. there’s a mirror behind you.

nicky turns to see a sheet drop off a large standing mirror in an ornate frame, and sure enough, he can see his face, a pale shape in the darkness of the room. he steps closer, and skids a finger over the glass, leaving a smear of paint behind. not a dream, then.

he feels a gust of air, warm, behind him and he turns. nothing but the canvas. when he turns back, that’s when he sees him.

he’s about the same height and build of nicky, standing just behind him and to the side. handsome, a full beard and a rueful smile and curls, and eyes that are the kindest nicky has ever seen. and the most startling thing- he is opaque. his head and shoulders are more or less solid, but his torso peters out into nothing at all.

“ghosts are real,” he says, to the spectre in the mirror, dumbfounded, and yusuf’s half-smile widens to a proper grin. he does a little wave in the mirror and something in nicky’s chest swells. he smiles back.

“your friend downstairs is waking up.” a breath, barely a whisper in his ear. and sure enough, noises from below. he can almost hear the sound of his name.

“i won’t tell him about you, if you don’t want me to,” he says, and yusuf shrugs, flickering.

“i don’t mind, but i'd rather you not. the more people come in here, the harder it is to... exist.”

nicky can hear footsteps on the stairs now, and he blurts out, quickly, before this bizarre moment is over, before he is thrust back into the mundane of his normal life. “we’re leaving now. can i come back, sometime?” and the thing is, he really wants to, wants to know this strange, sad ghost with messy handwriting and beautiful art, and kind, kind eyes. he has so many questions. what’s it like, being a ghost? are you lonely in this house? and, why do you not have any paintings of people? yusuf meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles again.

“i’d like that.”

“nicky!” the door opens and nicky blinks, his hands dropping to his sides. lykon sweeps his gaze around the room looks at him with a raised eyebrow. the canvas, nicky is stunned to realise, is now as clean and blank as when he’d walked in.

“c’mon man, you know we’re not allowed to mess with this stuff.” lykon steps forwards and plucks the paintbrush out of his hand, the tip still wet with paint, and sets it on the easel. “you said it yourself, nothing in here now. we’ve gotta get going.”

“sì, of course. i was just... looking around. it’s a beautiful room.”

his room mate just gives him a look. “uh okay. whatever, man. let’s go.”

before nicky leaves, he picks the paintbrush back up again, tucks it into his pocket. says to the empty room, slowly filling with light and colour from the rising sun, “i’ll be back, yusuf, i promise.”

the faint ghost of laughter as he walks out feels, somehow, right.

#the old guard #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #lykon #kaysanova #joe x nicky #usercacau #usershan #userlyde #userkayla #tuseradriana #anonymous #ask #reply #OOF what did i just write........... i dont know <3 #maybe i have backstory for all of them. maybe. what about it #my writing #mine #the ghost au

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

Text

dirtbags // 2: Lola

Summary: High school AU, 1984, Winter. It’s hard to make friends when you’re the new kid starting halfway through Junior year, but slowly Lola seems to be making a few. It’s much easier to have a rumour started about you, especially when you tend to make questionable choices at parties, but that’s much less fun.

A/N: 8173 words. Lola’s dad is the MVP, trust me. i meant to put this out a week ago whoops!! also im allowed to reference my own Queen oc as a treat. @bluehourmotel, @misscharlottelee and again, interludes are A Softer World quotes.

[ m a s t e r p o s t ]

the best revenge is living well. the second best revenge is fire ants.

The fact that after being in town for a total of two weeks, Lola’s closest friend is the gas station attendant a full fifteen minute drive away from her house is kind of sad. Not that she’s disappointed to be Mick’s friend, he’s got a dry sense of humor but a good heart and he’s refreshing honesty, but she’s been at this new school for about a week and a half, has already made out with at least one person, has possibly convinced said-person’s cousin that she’s trying to corrupt him, and started to make a name for herself - whether it’s good or bad is yet to be seen -, and yet Mick Mars, nineteen-year-old gas station attendant, apprentice electrician, and aspiring guitar player is her closest friend.

But she’s always been kind of terrible at making friends her own age.

“You have lost all respect from me,” Mick told her on Monday morning after the party, over the counter of the gas station as he’s ringing her up for her smokes and iced coffee before she went to school, “you could have picked anyone to mack on at that party, and you chose Tommy fuckin’ Lee?”

“He was nice to me, what was I meant to do?” Lola declared, realizing too late that that statement revealed absolutely too much about herself to a near stranger. Mick, however, just gives her a flat look.

“You need higher standards.” He doesn’t seem too phased by her. Lola takes this in stride, and nods, agreeing with a sigh.

“What time do you finish work?” She asks, changing the subjects quickly as she’s pulling out a bill from her back pocket, “dad said he’s happy to let you have a look at that weird light switch that doesn’t do anything that I was telling you about.”

“I finish at ten tonight, I’m working a double,” he groans at the very thought of it. Lola gives him a sympathetic look, and tells him to only come around if he’s up to it, otherwise leaving it for another day.

That’s the day that Lola realises the whole school knows about her and Tommy at the party, that she has Art with Charlotte before lunch, and also that Charlotte can’t look her in the eye.

Tuesday the school realises that she’s not just Lola Who Gives It Up For Free At Parties, but that she’s Lola The New Girl and that they don’t know anything about her beyond that. There’s a guy in her wood working class with long black hair and a dangerous smile that winks at her; she flips him off, knowing all he cared about was knowing if the rumours were true. She’s got AP French last period with that ginger from the party who wouldn’t stop laughing, Eileen; she’s a lot more serious, sober. The cheerleader, Heather, won’t stop giving her these weird, calculating looks.

Wednesday there’s a new rumour, that she was expelled from her last school. The population of the school hasn’t decided what exactly they think she was expelled for yet. Turns out she has English with that guy from her woodworking class, he just hadn’t turned up for their lesson on Monday; he sits at the back like Lola, in the other corner, and the teacher calls him Nikki in a tone like she’s already disappointed. Lola can see why, he fell asleep at his desk. Art last period with Charlotte; she still barely looks at Lola.

Thursday. Heather asks in AP French if Lola’s heard what everyone’s saying about her; her tone is sweet and dangerous in equal measure and Lola doesn’t trust what’s about to come out of her mouth. The new rumour is that Lola was expelled for sleeping with a teacher; something about the glint in Heather’s eye is cruel, and Lola asks her sweetly if she’s more jealous of Lola or the teacher. That shuts Heather up fast, and Eileen’s cough behind them sounds more like she’s trying to hide a laugh. But it still gets to her; Lola focuses so hard on ignoring the girls gossiping loudly about her at their station behind her in Home Economics that she burns the apple danishes she was attempting, and she throws the burnt pastries, and the tray they’d been cooking on, into the bin until she realises her mistake and sulkily fishes the tray out again. Thankfully, the teacher didn’t notice.

Friday, and Lola hasn’t paid much attention to Vince, whose house she’s been to but who she hadn’t properly met until their classes had P.E at the same time; he’s in the year below her, but still manages to sidle up to her while they’re both waiting for their teachers to prepare the field for whatever torture they’re masquerading as physical exercise today. She tells him to fuck off; there’s something about the way he conducts himself that she doesn’t like, like he’s putting on a show of being shallow and vain and the life of the party. Instead, Vince’s voice goes quiet and he tells her that Tommy’s a good kid with a good heart -

“You give this speech to everyone you caught making out at your parties, or just me, ‘cos you think I’m a bitch and I’m gonna hurt one of ‘your bros’?” She snapped, lip curling, and Vince’s brow creases into a frown, “I’m not his fucking girlfriend, we made out a little, you don’t have to act like I’m going to break his heart, so piss off.”

A moment passes, and he appears to don his shallow, playboy mask when he asks her slyly if the rumours are true. She shoves him hard enough that he skitters back a few feet, and Lola earns her first after school detention.

The thing is, she and Tommy are already on the same page about this, it was a what happens while drunk at a party stays at that party. Or at least, it’s meant to. Either way, Charlotte’s protectiveness, and Vince’s... attempt at protectiveness was unwarranted. Maybe it’s because Tommy, for whatever reason, has started hanging around Lola at lunch.

She doesn’t sit in the cafeteria like the rest of them, or even on that little section of the roof the intimidating pack of punks, rockers, and smokers have found a way to get to. Lola sits against the fence near the science building, close to the carpark that’s always open for some stupid reason, as though she’s contemplating bolting.

“Don’t you have friends?” Lola’s tone is kind of hard, and perhaps her words are on the nose, and a little cruel, but it’s Wednesday, and this is the third day in a row he’s found her and spent the entirety of lunch with her. They don’t speak much, Lola smokes and picks apart whatever her dad’s latest cooking experiment is before she eats it, and Tommy practices twirling his drumsticks.

“I have friends, do you?” Tommy responds, more than a little defensive, rubbing at his brow where he’d just managed to hit himself mid-drumstick-twirl, taken aback by her question. Lola gives him a flat look. “Someone told me you were expelled from your last school,” Tommy’s gaze shifts to the carpark, to the last car and it’s telltale rocking and fogged up windows.

“They say why?”

“Nah,” Tommy shakes his head, scowl softening as he gets back to practicing, “it true?” Lola’s picking out and eating the apple chunks from the slice of pie her father had packed for the day, still watching the car with the mildest of interest. She shakes her head. Tommy hums noncommittally. They spend the rest of lunch in silence.

“He keeps hanging out with me!” The following afternoon, Lola gripes to Mick on his smoke break after she gets out of school for the afternoon.

“You keep hanging out with me,” Mick points out, peeling the label off of a bottle of soda.

“And?”

“I don’t tell you to fuck off.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Because,” and Mick heaves a heavy sigh, like it pains him to admit, “we’re friends, Lola,” but he pauses and amends, “God knows why.”

“Fuck you, I’m a delight,” Lola huffs, and pulls her oversized denim jacket tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the afternoon breeze. If this were pretty much any other state, they’d be knee-deep in snow; thank God for LA, snow’s pretty for five minutes before it’s a pain.

“Do you tell him to fuck off?” Mick asks pointedly, as if exhausted that he has to spell it out for her. Lola’s quiet, but her answer’s clear. Mick clears his throat with a cough. Lola’s scowl deepens.

She brings it up to her father that night.

“Do you reckon Tommy’s trying to be my friend?” She asked, gaze intense as she focuses on slicing apples into little cubes. Leo, her father, who was kneeding a blend of spices into a ball of dough that would end up being a pie crust, paused.

“The kid who has been hanging out with you at lunch?” He thought for a moment, “the one from the party?”

“I told him it was nothing serious-” Lola tried, exasperatedly cutting the apples a little rougher, but her father’s warm, gentle laugh cut her off.

“Yes, I think he’s trying to be your friend,” he told her, which Lola hadn’t exactly wanted to hear, but the information was easier to digest coming from him than it was coming from Mick, “he obviously likes you -”

“But I told him -”

“I know, you told him it wasn’t serious, but dear, that doesn’t mean he likes you less as a person - you’re a very cool cat, I can see why he’d want to be your friend,” he gives her finger guns, and Lola can’t help but laugh softly at his attempt to be hip.

“Christ, dad,” Lola huffs, smiling fondly, but he’d managed to cheer her spirits considerably.

“I burnt my danishes today,” Lola’s voice goes quiet as she goes back to focusing on her task, and her dad makes a noise of intrigue, “got distracted and crisped the whole tray.”

“You’ll get ‘em next time; just fifteen minutes, remember?”

“Fifteen minutes, no distractions,” Lola agreed, almost by rote, thankful that he doesn’t ask about what had distracted her. She can still hear the whispered gossip and giggles that had come from the cooking station behind her in Home Economics.

Her dad knows that her peers think she was expelled from her last school, but she keeps her mouth shut about the fact that today they’d decided it was because she had relations with a teacher; he knows almost everything about her, but he didn’t need to know about a whole school calling her a slut. He’d blow it out of proportion, and it isn’t getting to her since she knew for a fact it wasn’t true.

They finish the apple pie with it’s rosemary and lemongrass crust in good spirits. The flavours don’t go together as well as Leo had hoped, but it’s another step closer to the perfect apple pie he’d been trying for. Leo packs her two of the leftover slices for lunch, as a not-so-subtle hint.

On Friday, Lola hands Tommy a plastic container with a piece of apple pie, with a rosemary and lemongrass crust in it.

“Is it poison?” He asks. Lola doesn’t look at him, picking the individual apple pieces out and eating them one at a time.

“The crust tastes weird if you eat it with the filling,” Lola’s voice is flat as she explains instead of answering, “but the apples are sweet.” She eats another cube of apple, then breaks off a corner of the golden, perfectly cooked crust, now cold and stiff from spending the night in the refrigerator.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Eat it or don’t, I don’t care,” Lola tells him, hunching further in on herself; like this, she can’t see the way Tommy’s expression has broken out into a smile.

“Thanks Lola,” but the smile is evident in his voice, confirming all of her suspicions at once. Tommy took her at her word when she said the rumours weren’t true, even if the rest of the school believed them, so Lola supposes she’s actually okay with the fact that her second ever friend in the entirety of California is the marching band geek in the year below her who she made out with at a party once.

Also maybe she’s just kind of terrible at making friends.

you and me baby! we are the future! and the future is bleak.

“Wait, you’ve never met Nikki Sixx?” Tommy asked, sitting patiently with his back against the fence, his hand resting on her knee as she fills in the the nails of his left hand with black sharpie, “didn’t you go to his gig the other week?”

“I didn’t know anyone,” Lola pointed out, and Tommy makes a thoughtful noise.

“You’d love him, he’s so fucking cool,” he assured her, which made Lola give pause; Tommy also thinks Vince is fucking cool, and she wants to throw Vince out a window, “he was the one on bass.”

“The one in the leather pants?” Lola couldn’t help but smile at the memory; she’d appreciated it at the time, and could appreciate it now. Tommy, however, rolled his eyes.

“The girls love the leather pants,” he gave a quiet sigh, before adding, almost to himself, “wish I had leather pants.”

“Leather pants would look good on you,” Lola pinches at his thigh for a moment, and goes back to filling in his nails. missing Tommy’s pleased, flustered little smile.

“You know Freddie paints his nails like this,” Tommy says instead, changing the topic of conversation.

“Freddie?”

“Mercury. From Queen; you know Queen, right?” And he sounds kind of skeptical, like if she doesn’t know them, they can’t be friends anymore. Lola pauses again, her hand soft on Tommy’s where she’s filling in around his ring finger’s cuticle.

“I wanna climb John Deacon like a fucking tree,” she mutters, which startles a laugh out of Tommy, his hand jerking up to cover his mouth, making Lola leave a black line against his knee, through the rip in his jeans. When she looks up at him, however, her eyes are shining with mirth, “come on, man, you must have seen the video of them performing in Montreal last year!” And she licks her lips, watching Tommy’s blush grow steadily darker. After a beat, Lola bursts out laughing, shattering the tension and shifting to sit beside him, idly doodling on her own hand with the marker as Tommy shakes his head with amusement.

Lola starts humming Back Chat to herself, and Tommy leans his head back against the wire of the fence, listening for a moment.

“You and Charlie would get along great too,” he considers, and Lola doesn’t stop humming, nor does she look to him, “she likes Roger, but probably just because she thinks he’s pretty.” Lola can hear his eyeroll without even seeing it, and she’s not sure why, but she files that information away in the back of her mind; she’d never gotten an especially shallow vibe from Charlotte, but there was a uncertain undeniable appeal to Roger Taylor’s pretty-boy charm.

“Didn’t his girlfriend leave him for Bowie?” Lola asks mildly, barely pausing to speak between humming notes.

“Rocket Mercury?”

“Her name’s Rocket?” Lola snorts, finally looking at him, and Tommy’s lips twisted into an amused grin.

“Her name’s Ash, but everyone calls her Rocket,” he says, like he’s in the know, and Lola stays quiet, nodding and trying not to laugh, “and yeah, I think so, she’s been with a few people since him I think; Bowie, this girl from this English band Hawkwind, Elton John maybe? Or someone around him I think.” Tommy nods, and Lola’s kind of intrigued as to why he knows so much about Queen’s drummer’s partner, but something else has caught her attention.

“A girl from Hawkwind?” Tommy doesn’t seem to notice the way Lola’s voice has softened, or how her expression has dropped to something carefully neutral. She’s drawing a little flower on the knuckle of her thumb.

“One of their dancers, Stacy, maybe?” Tommy’s own tone is light, like he doesn’t even realise Lola’s hanging onto his every word regarding this one little detail about a woman she doesn’t even know, “was kind of a scandal, but it was years ago; she’s Freddie’s sister after all, maybe it’s genetic.”

“Genetic?”

“Liking girls and guys, you know?” And he pauses. Lola’s frozen beside him, the marker pressed hard against her skin, breath caught in her throat. He throws it out so casually, so easily. Her hands are shaking. The words so kind when he says them, so unlike what she’s used to hearing. Tommy’s already moved on to the next thought. “actually, I’m not sure if Freddie’s like, legit her brother, but anyways, she and Roger are back together; I’m glad.” As if a sixteen-year-old’s opinion on a rock legend’s love life mattered, “he seems happier with her, all his best live shows were when they were together.”

“I’d kill to play half as well as him,” it’s almost wistful when Tommy says it, interrupting Lola’s thoughts, his gaze trained on the sky, as if imagining he’s on stage himself. Lola lets out a long, quiet breath, recentering herself as she looks to him.

“You wanna play drums?”

“I can play drums,” Tommy tells her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but not nearly as good as Roger Fucking Taylor, can you imagine?” But Lola’s more focused on the -

“I thought you just played in the marching band, can you play, like, full -” and she sits forward, gesturing like she’s tapping on a full drumkit, eyes shinning. Suddenly, in the face of her rare, unrestrained smile, Tommy feels himself growing nervous, like he’ll let her down if he’s not actually as good as he thinks he is.

“I’ve got a kit in my garage,” he admits, and Lola pauses, letting her excitement simmer, as though realising it had gotten the best of her, breaking her cool and aloof facade.

“That’s cool as hell,” she does add, however, and Tommy beams.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, all flustered at even the slightest praise, “man, you’d really like Charlie, I know she looks all fancy and intimidating, but she’s a real softie inside.”

“You are really pushing hard for me to be friends with your cousin,” Lola notes, giving him a sidelong glance, and Tommy’s nose scrunches up, caught out.

“She thinks you’re trying to corrupt me,” he grumbles, “but if you guys met she’d know you’re not.”

“I am corrupting you,” Lola smirks, “next week I plan on peer pressuring you into smoking.”

“I’ve smoked before!” Tommy’s up in arms, like the implication that he hasn’t done something as low-level cool as smoking offends him.

“Dude I was kidding, I gave you half my cigarette yesterday,” Lola reminds him, and the bell rings.

While Lola was more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie, it appeared that Charlotte was not, and less than two days after her conversation with Tommy, Lola finds herself sitting by Charlotte’s side in their shared art class.

It’s the last class of the day, and Charlotte’s the one who sits by Lola. There’s no preamble, barely acknowledging the decision, just opening her notebook and focusing on the theory the teacher had already started to jot down on the whiteboard.

When they’re given free time, however, to work on personal projects, Charlotte opens her sketchbook and sharpens her pencil, and without looking at Lola, begins speaking quietly.

“Tommy thinks we’d get along,” Charlotte sounds completely innocent and perfectly harmless, but Lola remember how Charlotte had looked at her, part deer-in-the-headlights startled at the realisation, and knee-jerk protective fury, at Vince’s party when she realised who Lola had been kissing.

“So I’ve heard,” Lola doesn’t look up, but Charlotte’s pencil stills on her paper. After a beat, Lola turns to see Charlotte giving her a curious look. Propping her head up on her hand, Lola gives a thin, amused smile, “he also thinks I’d be good friends with Nikki Sixx; was he the one you yelled at, at the gig?”

Instead of being flustered or going red at the mention of the moment, Charlotte’s expression lights up, as if the idea somehow delights her, and slowly she’s nodding. All her earlier reservations and hostility was quickly leaving her.

“Yeah, actually I told Nikki you reminded me of him, actually -”

“I remind you of Nikki?” Lola’s grin widened, and she shifted to face Charlotte further.

“He’s kind of a tool -” Charlotte blurted after a moment of contemplation, and Lola’s eyebrows raised in amused surprise. Charlotte’s quick to backtrack, “I mean, I’m not saying you are- well, I don’t know you, but I mean, Tommy -” Charlotte frowns at that, expression falling as she considered quietly, “actually, I mean, I love him, but he’s not the greatest judge of character; he thinks Nikki hangs the stars, despite never really speaking to him,” she pauses and heaves a sigh of realisation, “that probably why he thinks so highly of him -”

“I thought they were friends,” Lola’s genuinely surprised, given how kindly Tommy had spoken of him.

“Half the school is terrified of Nikki, half seems to be in love with him; Tommy’s in the second half.”

“And which half are you?”

“I’m the only person who seems to think he’s just kind of a pest,” Charlotte’s response is surprisingly mild, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying.

“He’s talented, though,” Lola offers, and Charlotte looks back to her, as if brought from her own thoughts. There’s a pause, a lull. Lola puts down her pen, and turns more fully to Charlotte, stretching her arm out over the desk, and resting her head fully on it, like a particularly smug cat stretching out in the sun. Charlotte is slower to put down her pencil, but does so after another moment, pristine fingernails drumming against her sketchbook for a moment.

“He was talented,” Charlotte agreed, thought it sounds like she doesn’t quite want to, “my ex actually got me into his kind of music, he was a fan of Nikki’s too; I’d tell Nikki I enjoy his music but it’d go straight to his ego,” and she casts Lola a sidelong look, lips stretched into a smirk, which Lola returns.

“I am a little bit of a tool,” Lola finally admits with a self deprecating grin, and Charlotte shakes her head.

“You’d fucking love him,” Charlotte tells her, with a strained, sort of resigned huff of laughter, like the concept of them meeting was a little bit horrifying, and already exhausting.

“You like his kind of music,” Lola circled back around to quickly, “never pictured you as a hard rocker, you’re very...” and she trails down, looking at Charlotte’s pristine cheerleading uniform, and thick, black tights, the only thing protecting her legs from the Winter air. The blonde shifts a little uncomfortably under the scrutiny, brow furrowing.

“I know,” Charlotte says flatly, crossing her ankles, far too self aware in the moment, “you expect me to just be listening to nothing but Abba and Madonna all day?” She sneers, suddenly haughty again, and Lola licks her lips, intrigued; she can tell she’s pushed a button, and debates for a moment if she wants to press it further.

“Not all the time,” Lola said, sitting back up slowly, “but I mean, I’m kind of partial to Does Your Mother Know, there’s no shame in loving Abba,” she shrugs, and Charlotte lets herself visibly relax.

“Never pictured you as an Abba fan,” Charlotte actually grins.

There’s a distinct lack of hostility in the air between the two girls by the time the class ends, after spending the entire class gushing over various bands across a surprising range of genres, and Lola quickly finds she appreciates how wrong her initial impression of Charlotte had been.

As they’re leaving for the day, or well, Lola’s leaving, and Charlotte’s heading to cheer practice, the conversation lulls as Charlotte grows thoughtful.

“Hey, just... Tommy’s kind of a hopeless romantic,” and even as she speaks, she knows Lola’s growing irate at Charlotte’s hesitant tone, “and honestly, the girls he goes for usually don’t... they don’t usually give him the time of day, and he obviously thinks the world of you, I just don’t want you to -”

“I’ve told him that I don’t want to date him; he’s the one who keeps hanging around me,” Lola’s own tone appears to surprise Charlotte, now that she understands the root of the other girl’s protectiveness, “we’re...” and the word catches in Lola’s throat for a moment, knowing that speaking it makes it true, “friends.”

Lola glances at Charlotte out the corner of her eye, and sees the way Charlotte’s lips twist into a pleased little smirk.

“I was just making sure.”

love is stupid. happiness is admitting we aren’t better than stupid.

Leo Fields, thirty-nine years old, owner of soon-to-be-named Leo Diner’s in suburban LA, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, who worked in the luxurious Parker House restaurant in Boston and quit after ten years there, including three years as Sous Chef and one year as Head Chef, only to open his own 50s style diner a mere ten minutes away in Salem, has and will always claim his favourite food is Easy Cheese.

Once, a long time ago, Lola had asked him why.

She’s asked him a lot of things, why he’d left his high-end restaurant to essentially flip burgers, why he kept his hair long, what his tattoos meant -

Lola’s eight, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs while Leo was crushing garlic to add to their dinner, his hair tied back into a large bun atop his head.

“People will try and tell you that just because something is expensive, fancy, or higher class,” Leo had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at that, putting on a voice to make his daughter laugh, “that it’s better; they are wrong. If something brings you joy, it is better than all things that do not bring you joy, no matter how fancy the things you don’t like are,” he’d told her very seriously, “better is not real, better is what you believe; better for you means healthier, and that’s real, but when people use better to mean good, they mean that it’s good in their mind, and maybe you agree, but maybe you won’t.” And he scrapes the garlic into the pan and oil cooking on low as he then began dicing onions.

“I use all my fancy training and knowledge to make foods I think are better, but now I get to also serve them with a smile, and I get to talk to the people I’m giving the food to, get to know them, let them know they’re welcome here,” he tries to smile while his eyes are watering from the onions, almost finished cutting them. “People in my old fancy restaurant didn’t want that, they wanted you to think they were better than you, and if you thought their food wasn’t good, that’s because you’re not fancy enough, and you’re not welcome here.”

“But that’s wrong,” Lola said with a slight frown, looking to her father for confirmation, and after he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, he beamed.

“Exactly,” he nodded and scraped the diced onions into the pan too, moving easily about the kitchen to pull mince from the refrigerator, “people liking something different to you is actually great; if everyone in the world liked Easy Cheese, we’d never be able to buy it!” And Lola laughed at that, the example making it easy for her to understand his point, “but making them feel bad for liking those things, that’s bad; that’s why I have my hair long, why I have my tattoos, they’re part of who I am, they’re part of my family’s history and where I come from, and I like them. If someone else is rude to me because of them, then I know right away that’s not someone I want in my life. People like to think they’re better than other people for stupid reasons sometimes.”

“Like if they’re fancy or not?” Lola asks, and Leo gives her a fond smile and nod.

“Like if they’re fancy or not.”

Leo’s not sure if Lola even remembers this, but he does. So when Lola, seventeen years old, standing in the kitchen, eating a ham and Easy Cheese sandwich after school, tells him that Charlotte, the girl in her art class, Tommy-from-the-party’s cousin, complimented her jacket, the pin-and-patch-covered, black, denim, proto-crust-punk, heirloom he’d loaned to her since she’d asked to wear it when starting a new school, and had barely gone a day without it, he can read into her smile even when it’s hidden behind her sandwich.

“Sounds like she has good taste,” Leo leans his hip against the counter top, legs feeling the warmth of the oven where he’s got a loaf of herb and garlic bread baking away.

Lola spends a full twenty minutes enthusing about Charlotte’s taste in music, eyes bright and tone animated. He only interrupts her to hand her a packet of prosciutto and a bundle of asparagus, so she could help him prepare for dinner, but it doesn’t slow her down, hands working quickly, while Leo boiled potatoes and simmered some garlic in butter on a low heat.

Both Lola and Leo know why Lola’s been so hesitant to make friends since moving, and she knows he’d never push her into friendship, but Lola also knows it hurts him to see her lonely.

“Hey dad, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lola says after a long pause, finally taking a breath after she’s finished recounting her day to him, “you know Queen, right?”

“Do I know Queen?” Leo jokingly scoffed, “Lola, I’m the one who introduced you to Queen.” He reminded, and Lola gave a small smile, but her heart wasn’t in it; she wasn’t usually nervous, but talking about this sort of thing still made her heart race a little. Seeing her hesitant expression, Leo’s own softens, and he turns down the potatoes to turn his full attention to her, “what about Queen?”

“I didn’t know Freddie’s sister was with the drummer,” Lola starts, fiddling with the final piece of asparagus. She’s quick to follow it up before she can chicken out, “and I didn’t know... she’s like Bowie, and Fred, and... and me, you know?” Lola finally wraps up the final vegetable and places it on the glass baking tray with the rest, before she looks to her father who was watching her pensively, hoping he understands what she’s trying to say.

“That’s little Rocket Mercury you’re talking about, isn’t it?” He asked as a smile stretched across his lips, “I heard that about her, I always thought she was so cool, she worked on Spinal Tap, you remember I took you to see Spinal Tap a few months ago?”

Lola’s heart eases in her chest at his words, his warmth, the way he seems to reflect positively on the news. While Lola knew she didn’t have anything to worry about, since the whole reason Leo had taken her and moved across the country was her mother’s less-than-kind reaction to the news of Lola dating a girl, the memory of it all still made her nervous.

Leo’s entire face lights up, and he makes a loud exclamation, like suddenly remembering some vital information, snapping Lola out of her dwelling.

“How have I never played you any Dusty Springfield?” He announces, picking up the glass tray from the table and placing it to the side, “I’ve got some of her records in my collection,” the oven timer goes off and he asks Lola to watch the potatoes so they don’t overboil while he takes out the bread and puts the asparagus in, “Dusty’s like you too; she’s a pop-star from the sixties, lovely voice, told the Evening Standard she liked girls and boys all the way back in nineteen-seventy.” He says as he sets the timer for the asparagus, and Lola wraps her arms around him from behind, if only to hide how wide she’s smiling.

“She pretty?” Lola asked, grinning against his soft, woolen sweater. Leo gently pet her hands where they were wrapped around his middle, giving a warm laugh.

“Very; it’s no wonder girls and boys liked her too.”

Lola had never seen her father flinch in the face of change, and for that she would always be grateful for him. The only time she’d ever seen him lose his cool was when he’d come to her defense against her mother’s bigotted views; apart from that, she’d never known anyone more willing to go with the flow.

Take last week, for instance, Mick had taken Saturday off from the gas station to go look at the fixture Lola had mentioned not seemingly connected to anything. Leo had finally had the red and white, checkered floor installed earlier that week, and the booths had been reupholstered over Thursday and Friday in a shiny, inviting, deep peach, to compliment the warm aesthetic completed by the pleasantly sunny walls.

One of the many things about Lola is that she know when people look at her father, they never expect him to be the embodiment of sunshine; six-foot-something, built like a tank from doing a majority of the manual labor around his diners on his own. His traditional, Hawaiian tattoos were on full display today, across his chest, arms, and legs, wearing a singlet and shorts despite it being the middle of winter, after spending all morning hauling an industrial freezer into the kitchen, with what little help Lola could offer. He wears his long, wavy black hair in a ponytail down his back; the only thing that ever betrayed the warmth of his personality was the crows feet by his eyes, the laugh lines around his mouth, and the kindness in his eyes themselves.

Leo Fields, teddy-bear in the body of a GI Joe, took one look at Mick Mars, the weary, rather scrawny teenager with barely any face visible for his long, shaggy, dyed black hair, and gave him a bright smile, ushering him inside. He introduces himself, and immediate asks what kind of music Mick listened to.

“I fucking hate Kiss,” Mick had said immediately, knee-jerk hostility, the way he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other being the only giveaway to how intimidated he felt.

“They can be a lot some times,” Leo had shrugged, gesturing to the jukebox, “I’ve already put a few of my favourites in, you wanna see if anything catches your eye?” Mick moves quietly, as if afraid to make a noise, even stepping in combat boots he barely makes a sound, and Leo makes mention that he’s going to freshen up, and that Lola knows what switch needs to be looked at.

“Hendrix?” Mick says with a hint of pleased surprise, right before Leo leaves, and Lola’s father gives a nod.

“Put it on, man, turn it up loud; it’s Electric Ladyland in there, right?” And at Leo’s question, Mick nods. Leo gives a delighted thumbs up, and heads upstairs to the flat above the diner.

“That’s your dad?” Mick asks, voice low after Leo’s disappeared, hitting play on the Jimi Hendrix record. Lola’s sitting on the counter, swinging her legs; she knows looks like him, same face, same long, dark hair, same copper complexion, it’s usually the staggering difference in their respective physicalities that seemed to trip people up, so his confusion wasn’t a surprise.

“That’s my dad,” Lola agrees, with a slight nod, looking around the warm and inviting diner that still smelled like new vinyl from the seats. She’d light a candle or two later.

Lola knows the rumours going around town about the diner, about how it’s owner was a chef, about how it’s hopefully going to serve better food than the last owners, but also how everyone knew very little about the new owner beyond that. It made her giddy, like she had a secret, to know that her father was capable of blowing their expectations out of the water with his food alone. Back in Salem, Leo’s was known for restaurant-quality food at, well, diner prices. All the fries were hand cut, there was always home made pie or slice or cookies on sale, the beef patties were made with real mince and mixed with Leo’s special blend of herbs and spices, and fish was delivered fresh, daily.

Lola knew her father knew what it was like to be discriminated against based on his looks, and how hard he’d fought to prove his skills as a chef, so in turn, he hired based on attitude and experience, and trying to give those who may not have had a fair shot an opportunity. Leo had always paid well, treated his workers with kindness, and tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. The diner had only ever made a modest profit, despite it’s popularity, but it had never been about the money for her father.

Back at Lola’s old high school, if you were popular, you looked for a job at the mall, but if you were an outcast, a loner, or a stoner, you applied for Leo’s; her dad had the ability to bring out the best in people, no-one wanted to disappoint Leo.

Her dad would never go anything as gauche as brag, but he has always prided himself on the quality of his diner and his food, glad to be putting his years of training and experience to use for people who’s appreciate it.

Mick clears his throat, snapping Lola out of her thoughts.

“Light switch?”

Mick thinks the switch probably connected to an exhaust fan the previous owner had removed, which baffled both Lola and Leo, seeing as how they’d had several exhaust fans installed, and the idea that this place had it’s one removed is unthinkable; how had they ever gotten the smell out?

After, Leo invites Mick up to have a look through his record collection, to recommend some for the jukebox, while he attempted a maple and walnut soufflé.

The moment Mick mentions he wants to join a band, Leo lights up, peppers him with questions, what type of music he likes to play, his influences, what type of band he’d like to form. Seemingly unused to the overwhelming interest and positivity regarding his aspirations, Mick is almost startled into being forthcoming, and quickly warms to Lola’s dad.

While the soufflé’s in the oven, the three of them sit on the roof and smoke, while Leo reminisces about seeing Cream live, a few months after Lola was born, and how he’d swaddled her in his concert shirt, only for her to take a liking to it, and had used it as a blanket up until she started daycare. At hearing this, Lola ducks her head to hide her smile, knowing she still had that shirt, though it was more hole than shirt at this point, hanging in her cupboard.

Occasionally, when she looks to him, Lola sees Mick regarding her with confusion, and okay, maybe she can understand why; he knows her to be reserved and dry, but with Leo, she’s outgoing and talkative and smiles so wide he can see her teeth. There’s barely a hint of her aloof façade around her father, and as Mick spends more time with him, it’s clear he can see why.

“Mick’s cool,” Leo announces with a grin when Mick himself has left, putting foil over the leftover soufflé for later, while Lola washes the few dishes and is more than happy to agree with him.

They spend Sunday decorating the diner, making it look less sparse with photos and hanging and various bits of music and pop culture memorabilia, while the jukebox blared rock and roll. A few people pass by in time to see Lola and Leo in an air guitar competition, but neither of them really care. Leo’s looks more like home by the time the sun goes down.

there will always be someone better than you. but on the bright side, who cares?

Eileen sits next to her in AP French during the entire last week of school for the semester. Everything she does seems so perfectly calculated, this change in seating included, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Heather clicks her tongue, clearly annoyed that Eileen had taken the seat she had previously vacated the day Lola staked her own next to it, and judging by Eileen’s innocent little smile, that alone made it worth it.

Lola tries not to pay too much attention to Heather, pretty, mean, and popular, almost the exact stereotype Lola had assumed Charlotte to be before she’d actually befriended her. They only have French together, but Heather keeps watching her, Lola sees it out of the corner of her eye, but her glare has become more speculative, more thoughtful as the weeks have passed, and Lola’s not quite sure what to make of it. Whatever scathing personal attack Heather’s probably working on is her business, she doesn’t know shit about Lola, so Lola tries not to care.

Once Eileen sits next to Lola, the glare comes back in full force anyhow.

On Thursday, the last AP French lesson for the semester, Eileen offers Lola a stick of spearmint gum, and it feels kind of like a test. Lola takes the gum anyways, and Eileen smiles at her, surprisingly genuine.

“You’re Charlotte’s friend,” Lola says, and Eileen’s smile widens.

“You’re the girl who kissed her cousin,” she says. Lola’s whole expression falls, mouth flattening into a thin, unamused line, ready to go on the defensive.

“And?”

Eileen shrugs, says nothing more on the subject, instead, glancing at Lola’s hands.

“My mom would kill me for wearing black nail polish, but it looks so cool on you,” She says, and Lola bites back a jaded response about her own mother, looking to her own hands, and the fresh and shiny coat of polished she’d applied the night before.

“Your mom kind of sounds like an asshole, if black nail polish is enough to get her riled up,” Lola says, without even thinking about how harsh the words sounded, but once the words are out, she adds, “and I know from asshole moms,” for good measure. Internally, she’s berating herself; if she talks about her mom, she’s terrified that she’s eventually going to answer questions about her mom, like where she was, and why Lola hates her.

“She’s just a perfectionist, and I don’t think black would suit me anyhow, so it’s not really an issue,” Eileen responds, as if she barely cares that Lola implied her mother was an asshole, and Lola lets herself relax a little, “I’m partial to a french tip,” Eileen holds out her hands to show her own manicure, the pale pink and white practically gleaming, obviously salon done.

“I coloured Tommy’s nails with sharpie,” Lola says while looking at Eileen’s elegant fingers, and Eileen actually huffs a laugh at that.

“I saw; he’s very proud of them.”

Something in Lola’s chest tightens at that; Charlotte seemed to be a good enough judge of character, and she liked Eileen well enough, so that, for now, was good enough for Lola.

Perhaps that’s why Lola had taken so long to actually speak to Nikki Sixx, despite both Charlotte and Tommy being adamant they’d get along, Charlotte’s proclamation that Nikki was kind of a tool held her back.

It’s not that she doesn’t know who he is; she’s figured out the guy who sleeps through her English classes, is trying to make an acoustic guitar in shop, and who is part of her music classes - once she’d decided to show up to those - is the same person she’d seen on stage in leather pants back at the pub. The guy who Charlotte had yelled at. A tool. Apart from the week the rumours had started circulating about her, he never paid her much attention, so she never felt the need to introduce herself. If he was a tool, she could leave him well enough alone.

Until the first day of the Winter break, apparently. Though for the record, he was the one who spoke to her.

There were technically two music shops in the local mall, a ten minute walk from Lola’s flat above the diner; she’s glad to be close to the CBD, but it also means she can’t justify asking her dad for a ride when it would take her less time to walk than it would for him to find parking.

But Monday, December 27th, was absolutely fucking freezing.

The mall itself is teeming with people looking to spend the money they’d gotten over the holiday period, and the workers had already taken down the gaudy Christmas Tree that had sat in the middle of the food court.

Lola was there at her father’s behest, sticking up and handing out flyers announcing New Year’s Day as Leo’s grand opening, and that they were hiring. She gives everyone at the food court a flyer, sticks up several in various locations, and thinks about heading back to the food court for a second round, to catch any newcomers, or anyone she may have missed, when she spots the music shops.

Bass and Treble were owned by the same people, however Treble seemed to be geared towards more classical music, with pianos and violins and flutes and all manor of orchestra-esque instruments available, while Bass seemed to be committed to rock and roll.

Nikki Sixx finds Lola crouched in front of the display of sheet music on sale in Bass.

“Lola, right?”

Lola stands so fast at his voice that her head spins, but she tries not to let it show. She’s on alert when she looks at him, tense, already scowling, which only deepens when she sees who it is.

“Nikki Sixx,” his name is not a question when it leaves her lips, but he seems pleased rather than concerned, that his reputation apparently preceded him. He nods, and looks over at what she’d been examining.

“Anything good?” He asked, and Lola looks over her shoulder at the display. She’d been seriously considering a book of Elton John’s hits for piano before he’d come along.

“Still deciding; why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, taking his time to look nonchalantly at the various amps nearby, “you look like you’d be into this sort of thing,” he notes, acting all smug and coy and weird; Lola rolled her eyes, but didn’t answer.

“You were at my gig, we’re you? Hanging out with that guy from the gas station, right? Mick?” Something about his tone had Lola on edge and defensive.

“You guys were okay,” she says flatly, making it clear as she can that that’s barely a compliment; Nikki, however, smile widely.

“Glowing review, I’ll add it to our poster,” he smirks, before he finally looks her over, gaze zeroing in on the flyers in her hands, “speaking of -” and he snatches one, not that she’s protesting, that’s another one she doesn’t have to get rid of. Nikki’s reading the flyer and frowning, while Lola lets her attention wander to the various keyboards they have on display.

“Where’s this?” Nikki pipes up, sounding genuinely interested, while Lola’s idly playing scales with one hand on the closest, off keyboard.

“A few blocks away,” Lola still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the town’s geography, “across the road from The Kings Hotel, where I saw you play -”

“The old MacCready place?”

“It’s Leo’s now,” Lola says, arms crossed, sitting low in her hips as she regards Nikki, and the way he’s going over every little detail of the poster, “Charlotte says you’re a tool.”

“Charlotte just hates that she likes me so much,” Nikki doesn’t even miss a beat before answering, and when he looks up to catch Lola’s reaction, his grin is all teeth. Lola can’t help the slight smile she wears as she takes in his response.

“I can see why,” Lola’s not quite sure what she’s going for with her own response, but it comes out more teasing than cutting, and there’s something in Nikki’s eye, or in his smile, or maybe it’s in his easy laughter, that has her heart beating weird in her chest.

A moment passes between them, a shift in the tone, the energy of the interaction as Lola drops her immediate hostility; she’s been doing that a lot lately, but she tries not to dwell on it. It’s now she gets a proper look at him, at his ripped jeans and all black, leather jacket, hair sprayed to high heavens like he’s about to join Poison; he looks unkempt and mean, and Lola’s kind of really into it.

They’re checking each other out, sizing each other up, and they both seem to find something in the other they like, because Nikki’s grinning at Lola when gaze meets hers again, and she’s smirking right back.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she tells him, hip cocked for a moment before she saunters past him, knocking into him with her shoulder purposefully. When Nikki stumbles back, he huffs a laugh, and Lola calls over her shoulder, “Leo’s is hiring by the way, Leo himself would probably love a fucker like you.”

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #the dirt #motley crue #motley crue imagine #nikki sixx imagine #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee & oc #the pack #lola&charlotte #charlotte & lola

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