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heliads · 3 years

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Twinning

Peter Maximoff has just met the most amazing girl on the planet- a mutant with the ability to mimic other people’s faces and powers. However, when a fight ends with Y/N losing her abilities, Peter will have to go after her and convince her to stay.

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The X-Men have only been here for about ten minutes before Peter Maximoff realizes that things aren’t exactly going to plan. They were dragged out to the middle of nowhere because Professor Xavier was convinced that there was some bedraggled group of mutants that needed saving. He was right, of course, but apparently he didn’t see into enough minds to discover the ambush waiting for them.

Now Peter and his friends are fighting against a large group of soldiers, far larger than they’d anticipated. He dodges a bullet again and again before eventually giving up, speeding over to Jean in the blink of an eye. She startles for a moment when he appears out of nowhere. Peter gives her about half a second to recover from the surprise before yelling something to her over the din of the fight. “Are we supposed to be losing?”

Jean shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember a crushing defeat being listed in the key points of the mission.” Suddenly, an eager grin slips across her face, and she shouts something over to Xavier. “Professor, the situation is dire enough. We have to bring her out.” Xavier sighs. “Are you sure about this?” Jean nods, smiling wickedly. “If we wait any longer, she’ll take a visit herself. Tell the Twin that it’s time to play.”

Peter frowns at Jean. “Who’s the Twin?” Jean casts him a beaming look. “One of the best people you’ll ever meet. Here she comes now.” Peter glances around the battlefield, trying to find whoever Jean is talking about, and then he sees her. There’s a figure making her way across the clearing, darting through soldiers as if they’re nothing more than stalks of grass. Anyone else would have been terrified to find themselves in the middle of a large cluster of enemy fighters, but instead she looks positively delighted.

Just as the Twin reaches Jean and Peter, the soldiers start to rain heavy fire upon the building where the other mutants are being held, the ones the X-Men were sent to rescue. The new girl turns to Jean, a sudden intensity burning behind her eyes. “Give me your hand.” Jean doesn’t hesitate for a second, thrusting out her palm. The Twin flings her own hand onto Jean’s, concentrating hard as if attempting a feat of intense difficulty. For a moment, nothing happens.

Then the girl’s eyes open wide, and Peter stares. They’re glowing with a strange energy, an energy that looks almost like Jean’s. As Peter watches, the energy spreads across her entire body, crackling over her veins. The Twin hovers in the air as she seemingly absorbs the energy, then comes crashing back down to the ground again. Peter reaches out an arm as if to catch her, but the girl has already straightened up once more.

She extends an arm to the sky and a torrent of magical power crashes out of her palm, racing across the battlefield to slam into the enemy guns and take them down. Beside her, Jean continues to use her powers, which look identical to the sudden abilities from the Twin. This girl hasn’t taken Jean’s powers, she just suddenly has the skill to have the exact same abilities.

Peter chuckles softly. “I think I get why they call you the Twin.” The girl turns to Peter, flashing him a grin almost as bright as the magical energy still pouring from her hands. “Nice to meet you too. I’m Y/N.” The enemy soldiers are scrambling back, desperate for a brief respite to fix their crumbling weaponry, and so Peter, Y/N, and Jean are granted a lull in the fighting.

Peter nods. “I’m Peter.” Y/N’s eyes flash. “So I’ve heard. You’re the fast one, aren’t you?” Peter allows himself a cocky grin. “I like the sound of that.” Jean groans next to him. “You two are bad enough by yourselves, don’t make me listen to you two banter. I’m going to give up and just ask the soldiers to shoot me.” Y/N pretends to pout. “And here I thought we were friends. So mean.”

Jean rolls her eyes, but considers Y/N for a second longer. “Is that a new face?” Y/N nods. “Got bored of the hair and changed the face shape. I’m taller now, too. By the way.” Peter frowns. “A new face?” Y/N fires a warning shot at the soldiers brave enough to attempt a second wave, then turns to face him once more. “The Twin thing doesn’t just extend to my powers. I can also change my appearance at will.”

Peter is fascinated. “Just like that?” “Just like that.” Y/N says, screwing up her face in concentration once more. Before Peter’s eyes, her hair seems to leach of its color, turning silver like a river running bright with rainwater. Peter’s eyes widen. “That’s so cool.” Y/N grins, allowing her hair to turn back to another color. “I know, right?” Peter considers this. “It is cool, but it was better when it was silver.” Peter stays just long enough to see an exasperated look start to form in Jean’s eyes and a slight blush on Y/N’s face before he turns, rejoining the fight faster than anyone else can see.

The battle is over soon after that. Now that Y/N’s taken the stage and there are basically two Jeans along with Peter and the rest of the X-Men, a motley group of soldiers with guns can’t stand a chance. Xavier directs them to stay a little longer, making sure the soldiers won’t try anything else before helping the refugee mutants onto the plane and settling into seats themselves. Peter slides into a seat next to Y/N. If he’s going to be stuck on the plane for the next hour or so, he intends to get to know her.

Y/N looks up with a smile. “If it isn’t my second favorite speedster. How are you?” Peter pretends to look affronted. “Am I not your favorite? Who else is there?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, challenging. “I’ll show you if you give me your hand.” Peter holds out his hand, palm facing upwards. Y/N takes it, snapping her eyes shut as she channels his power. There’s a slight pricking sensation, almost like a needle, and then the same rivers of energy seem to flow over Y/N’s body. This time, however, they don’t glow like Jean’s powers. Instead, they’re a bluish silver, like Peter’s abilities.

When Y/N opens her eyes, Peter notices that they’ve changed color again. This time, they’re a warm hazel, the same shade that Peter sees in the mirror every morning. In fact, in the split second it’s taken Peter to realize that she’s imitating his eyes, the rest of her face has changed. It’s like staring at a reflection of himself- every detail, down to the stitching on his jacket, is replicated perfectly on Y/N.

Peter lets out an incredulous laugh. “You know, I’ve heard they say that imitation is the best form of flattery, so I’m going to take this to mean that you think I’m very, very cool.” Y/N rolls her eyes, letting Peter’s face wash away from her again like the swipe of a cloth. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Peter grins. “Why not? You said that this is your favorite speedster, right? That’s technically just me, so all I’m hearing is that you think I’m the best.”

Y/N laughs. “You’re unbelievable, Peter Maximoff.” Peter leans back against the wall of the plane. “Maybe so. What are you going to do about that, Twin?” Y/N thinks about this. “I’m going to go hang out with someone I can stand.” She winks at him, then disappears in a flash. It’s strange seeing his own powers used on someone else, although to be honest, Peter’s not sure that he minds it on her.

Peter must have been staring for a little too long, because Jean takes a seat in the place where Y/N just stood. She raises an eyebrow at him, and Peter has a sudden sensation that he’s a fish about to get eaten by a shark who can sense weakness. “I didn’t think you’d take to Y/N that quickly.” Peter feigns indifference. “It’s a little odd seeing your own face on someone else.” Jean shrugs. “At least she asked you first. She’s never done that with any of the rest of us. We just walk in a room and find out that she’s there because you’re suddenly looking at yourself. It’s nice of her to make a change for you.”

Jean’s looking at him like there’s a second meaning to all that, but Peter is unwilling to look too deeply into it. He just spreads his hands, hoping to come up with some witty retort that will stop Jean from peering at him like she can read his mind. Which she can, he supposes, but that’s not the point. “It’s not your fault, Jean. I’m very endearing to everyone I meet.” Jean scoffs at this, but Peter can sense her backing off on the topic. To be honest, Peter is perfectly fine with that. If he spends any more time thinking about the mutant down the hall named Y/N, he’s fairly sure that Jean might be able to discern some fairly compromising information from his head.

Peter’s known Y/N for about a month when the next attack hits. This time it’s different- the soldiers are back with a vengeance, but they’ve managed to enlist a mutant to turn against Xavier and the rest of the mutants at the school. Peter lines up with the rest of the X-Men to take a stand and defeat the soldiers once and for all. He’s pleasantly surprised to notice Y/N coming to a stop next to him. She’s wearing a different face, one with darker eyes and shorter hair. “What, they’re letting you join the melee early this time?” She grins at him. “Too many risks otherwise. They don’t like the idea of soldiers finding out about me lest they try something like the Sentinel program, but the stakes are high enough that I’m sprung early.”

Peter smiles, casually straightening the collar of her jacket. “Try not to kill anyone unnecessarily. They might send you back.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s always a problem with me.” Peter’s about to laugh and come up with some joking retort, but the rattle of gunfire begins to echo across the field they’re standing in and he turns back to the battle with a sigh. Conversations are over, it’s time to defend the school. Hopefully they can get this wrapped up quickly so he can talk to Y/N again.

Unfortunately, Peter doesn’t see Y/N for the majority of the battle. Xavier sends her over to deal with the rogue mutant, thinking that it would be best if one of his strongest fighters battled what is clearly the crown jewel in the soldiers’ attack plan. He’s not wrong, of course, but Peter wouldn’t mind being able to fight side by side with the Twin. He would most certainly show off, and the only people who can be impressed by that now is Scott. How disappointing.

True to his hopes, the battle ends somewhat quickly. It’s longer than the last one, as they can’t count on Y/N for a Hail Mary to knock out all the soldiers’ guns in one fell swoop while she’s dealing with the enemy mutant, but it’s good enough. Judging by the lack of destruction in the school and the tightly bound, unconscious mutant leaving the premises, Peter assumes that Y/N was able to deal with him easily.

However, when Peter tries to find Y/N and congratulate her on the defeat of the enemy mutant, he can’t find her anywhere. She’s not wandering the battlefield like the rest of them, she’s not in the medical wing, she’s not in any of the rooms. In fact, even hours later, Peter can’t find her at all. Eventually, Peter can’t stand the suspense and he finds Jean, not even bothering to walk at a normal speed in his haste to find Y/N.

Peter skids to a stop in front of Jean. “Have you seen Y/N? I can’t find her anywhere, which is really strange. Do you know where she is?” Belatedly, Peter realizes that she’s not alone but talking to Xavier. Peter moves to step away and let them finish their conversation, but the Professor turns to Peter with a concerned look. “Don’t leave just yet, Peter. You’re right to worry- we can’t find her either. She isn’t on the school grounds.”

Peter stares. “She left the grounds? Is she alright?” Xavier lifts a shoulder. “She is relatively unharmed, yes. No grave danger to her life.” Peter does not feel remotely reassured by this. “But something happened, right? She wouldn’t just leave for no reason.” The Professor shakes his head. “Just before she subdued the rogue mutant, he hit her with a blast of energy. I didn’t know his powers, or I wouldn’t have sent her to deal with him, but- Well, it removed her powers. We think it’s just temporary, but she panicked and fled.”

Peter feels like the roof has come crashing down over his head. “What do you mean, it removed her powers? Is she alright?” Xavier sighs. “I only got a brief glimpse into her head before she left. She was worried, thinking that she was hurt and that’s why she couldn’t use her powers, but she fled the school because she thought we wouldn’t want her there anymore if she wasn’t a mutant.” Peter feels sick. “But that’s not true. Of course we want her!”

The Professor’s voice is chiding. “Yes, we still we want her. The only problem is that Y/N was in a state of intense panic and didn’t believe it herself. We would go after her, but the energy blast removed her powers and made her revert to her original face. No one actually knows what she looks like because she’s been changing her appearance almost every day. We can’t find her because we don’t know who she is anymore.”

Peter stares. “That’s it? You’re not going after her because you can’t remember what she looks like?” Xavier starts to say something, but Peter just shakes his head, something like disgust building up in his throat. “I’m going to go find her.” Jean reaches out an arm, blocking his path. “You don’t know where she is.” Peter looks at her. “Then tell me where you think she is, and I’ll go. I’m not leaving her.” The Professor sighs. “The last time we were able to track her was a brief appearance in the surrounding town. She couldn’t have gotten far, it hasn’t been that long.” Peter nods. “I’ll bring her back. I promise.” Xavier sighs again, although this time something almost like hope is written across his brow. “I know you will.”

Peter dashes away, moving faster than anyone in the school could possibly see. He reaches the surrounding town in a matter of seconds, coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of a street. Now that he’s actually left the school, Peter realizes how daunting this task could be. However, Peter has rarely considered the risks of things in his life, and he certainly isn’t about to start now. Not when Y/N’s out here, alone and feeling hopeless.

Peter ends up running again, checking up and down every street. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for- some sign of Y/N in every person he sees, he guesses. After fruitlessly combing every street, Peter stops again, letting himself pause in the middle of a crowded thoroughfare. Most people around him look at him in surprise, as if noticing he was there for the first time, but one doesn’t. One girl, one absolutely beautiful girl who looks hurriedly away as if pretending she didn’t see him at all. Bingo.

Peter jogs up to her, voice catching in his throat. “Y/N?” The girl turns away again. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Peter’s voice is softer now. “Yes, you do. You’re Y/N L/N, and you go to my school.” The girl glances over at him, one eyebrow raised, although she hurriedly looks the other way as if chiding herself for giving him even this brief speck of attention. “That’s a strange way to describe someone.”

Peter, with all the nerves of someone about to take a leap of faith, reaches down and wraps his hand around Y/N’s. She lets her shoulders soften, although when she speaks again her voice is anything but relaxed. “You shouldn’t have come looking for me. I’m useless now.” Peter shakes his head. “You could never be useless. Not now, not ever. You’re more than just your powers, you realize that?” Y/N looks at him, true pain radiating from her eyes. “You can’t say that. Xavier only needs me because I can imitate other people’s powers, and now that I can’t do that anymore he has no need for me.”

Peter grabs her other hand, forcing her to a stop. “And what about me? I need you.” Y/N lets her gaze remain on his. “How did you find me? You don’t know what I look like.” Peter shrugs. “I looked for the cutest girl in town, and I guessed correctly.” Y/N laughs, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. “You’re impossible.” Peter winks at her. “Impossibly charming. Now, are you going to come back with me to the school or do I have to follow you around some more?”

Y/N sighs. “But I don’t-” Peter holds up a hand. “If you’re going to say something about how you don’t have your powers and you shouldn’t return, you’re wrong. Everyone’s worried about you.” Y/N’s gaze seems to cut right through him. “Everyone?” Peter nods. “Everyone. Especially me. Besides, the Professor said that your powers will probably return, and this is just temporary. That being said, I’d want you there, powers or no. I’m here for you, Y/N, not the Twin. You’re way more than that.”

Y/N smiles at him at last. “I suppose so. Okay, I guess I’ll come back.” Peter beams at her. “Excellent. Can I speed up the return journey?” She nods. “Just don’t drop me.” Peter flashes her a grin. “I’d never dream of it.” Moving faster than anyone can see, Peter picks up Y/N in his arms, taking off in the direction of the school. If he presses a kiss to her forehead before he starts to run, well, he’s the only one who would know.

peter maximoff tag list: @awaywiththe, @amourtentiaa, @elaineygrace

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff imagines #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff oneshot #quicksilver #quicksilver imagines #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver oneshot #xmen #xmen imagines #xmen x reader #xmen oneshot #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #marvel oneshot

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tolstoyamericanrevolution · 3 years

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Turn Christmas: Hidden in Finery

A Robert Townsend & Arielle Nathan story I was meant to publish awhile back but forgot about so happy late December 17th!!

The problem of forgetting you are trapped is when the trap twists itself around your ankle, and you dare to show your distress. At Rivington’s, she had forgotten about it all, the redcoats and the beatings from Captain Hennely’s wife. In the daze of candlelight and a humorous conversation, she forgot about the war outside her door. She forgot about her role as prisoner & friend, governess & respectable guest she forgot about all the titles given to her when James Rivington made a joke or John André mused a poem out loud.

Arielle forgot about her family being miles away in Philadelphia when Robert smiled at her.

That rare secret smiles that she tugged close to her chest. Robert Townsend had many ways of smiling- the polite line for drunk customers who ranted about everything and nothing, that reserved smile of amusement when Rivington would refer to him as “Robby Boy” or her favourite- well favourite two.

The sly one that would catch the glint in his eyes when something amused him- genuinely unrefined. It could be a joke or a complaint made by a person, or perhaps it was a thought that crossed his mind. Those rare melancholic free thoughts as he laughed to himself about a uniform three sizes too big on a young officer or the invisible ink debacle. Arielle liked those smiles.

The one she loved, was that gentle smile unaided by a raise of his eyebrows or a slant of his chin. No, instead it draped over his lips in momentary content. His witty smiles were regular affairs that fluttered her chest- these gentle ones; a rarer variety as if budgeted and allotted in his monthly account books—emerging when he felt in control when the world stopped spinning, when everything felt in order- as if Robert had not sacrificed all his prospects in a high stakes gamble. That of a spy; that of life and death.

When he first gave her that smile, her heart melted. She realised that the love she thought she had felt previously was nothing because she wanted to imprint this moment in her very being. She was longing for some reception, for some encouragement. Arielle could still recall the way his eyes softened when the coffeehouse was closing, and he glanced up from his books and smiled—not seeing her as out of place in this world of his but rather a comforting part of it, amongst the candles burning low and the day's numbers recorded.

This sense of belonging was not here tonight. Andre was away at dinner and Rivington was entertaining a table of ladies. The one man she did care about was tending to his wares—streets away which at this table felt like oceans away.

Bitterness coursed her chest, gripped at her tongue, forcing her to taste anxiety in her bones and the resentment of this cage. This cage that had deceived her so well until the cards were laid in front of her. Numbers racked up in debt, the men around her smelt like gin and rum, like a pulsing wound under bandages. Toxic and jaundiced.

Captain Hennely, the fool, was in debt and racking it up fast as he insisted on another betting coin. Arielle watched him with abject horror- leading him to snap at her “Shut your damn eyes constantly!” “Judas of a woman!” the two alternating every two minutes. When he lost a round, he slammed his fist down in front of her. If he chose not to bring it down on the table, he could quickly bring it down on her, to her stomach and thighs, causing her heart to patter in her throat.

Arielle could not just leave, to find another table even when she longed for anyone else's company. For if she tried to move he would snap about having to keep an eye on her. That someone should see his victory should learn the value of coin over-etching it out in budget plans.

The man he gambled against was a wolf of a man. Conniving and greedy for anything that glittered. Rivington once told her that he got violent with anyone who tried to cheat him. Oft, dragging them to the nearest alleyway to crash bone against bone. Townsend’s nod told Arielle this wasn't just James’s typical exaggerations. This man focused his gaze on her neck, on her necklace like a fox upon a goose.

Upon the pearl and aquamarine choker, a gift from her parents, the first necklace of significance she was allowed to own; Not to share the diamonds and pearls with her sister or mother from the family safe. Not the gold chains of girlhood. This necklace was her sixteenth birthday present, a present that told her she was now allowed her safekeeping items. The pearls were small white river pearls that circles her neck in singular role while in the center was a cushion-cut aquamarine secured in gold plated brass while hanging from it was a baroque seawater pearl, with its pear shape, that felt like a tear, the size of her thumbnail- small, delicate yet strong.

This necklace may not have been the most costly, but it had sentimental value, it demonstrated when Arielle has first trusted with value herself and now this man wanted it. Hennley failed his bet and had no money to give. Taking the opportunity, the man demanded her necklace to settle all debt- so he could play another night again.

She began to refuse, this was not his to give it was hers- it was her possession. “I apologise sir but this is mine, it is not for sale”. It was then she realised she was still entrapped that she was the property of the crown, that a last-minute cry saying it belonged to her father meant nothing.

He slammed his hand in front of her, the same way Hennley did. Demanding it outright or else that captain would be no longer, and she wouldn’t want that. Oh, see how I care Arielle thought spitefully, at first. Drag him by his guts for all I care this is mine. Her barred teeth in a snarl meant nothing. For every time, her emotions began to get out of check, that another guest may notice- this same captain pinched her hand. “It doesn't belong to you, it belong to the Crown and as you’re exchequer I demand you hand it over”

Protests died on Arielle’s lips as tears pricked her eyes. Her neck felt cold as her possession was stored safely in the man’s hand. “It will fetch for a fair price” he murmured as he passed her. Straight to the market. Away from her hands. Standing sharpley she demanded a coin- a carriage she was going home. Henley handed her a coin reluctantly “be prudent with your travel” he had such a nerve.

No one met her eye, Rivington continued chatting, Andre was still gone and Robert was far away while she was left feeling like a bartered whore- none of her possessions bound to her by ownership let alone honor. Her anxiety fretted- what else will they take from her?

The accounts were in check, the stock for the Christmastide sales was prepared. When Robert Townsend came back to Rivington’s the following day everything felt alright. He was prepared for last minute officers trying to barter the price of rum. He had everything from second hand goods to newer ones. Abraham often critiqued him for his loyalty to his business. Accusing him of not engaging with the Ring fully in order to save his own income. Fool.

That was the only answer Robert would give to it. It is not like he spent nights awake pondering if there was any merit in his words.

There was one thing out of place, however, Miss Nathan’s regular expression of glee, often smiling with some wit on her tongue. Her choleric rants. Her general ability to hold court in the room. That is what made her and Rivington work so well. He would work one half of the room and her th either. Yet while James was intentional- Robert thought it was just Arielle’s nature to challenge, twist, debate and laugh.

Instead she appeared late; strange. Her dress plainer than her regular vibrant colours or patterns. No jewellery around her neck. The most telling was the way she sulked around the room. Eyes dark refuting anyone who came near her. Watery and untrusting. Perhaps that was what concerned him, Arielle was as volatile as he was. One minute light hearted next minute serious, melancholic then temperamental. While he was private however; her face was a stage informing everyone of her mood. Robert didnt know how he felt about the twisting in his chest when he caught her eye.

It felt strange not to have a presence by his elbow, peering down at whatever he was working on. It was all very strange indeed.

Yet; Mr Townsend could not go and talk to her. Risk showing the world their closeness. No instead he would have to make inquiries. The hint came when Captain Hennley- he never bothered to catch his first name, scoffed past her and she scowled, teeth bare like a fox disturbed.

Pouring a glass of port, he delicately placed it next to the man.

“Gambling good, sir?”

“Could be better,”

“is that so?”

“Aye, some wolf like bastard bet me out of my money” Robert cringed but continued.

“I hope you found a way to remedy it” He tried to sound neutral, not generally given to inquiries.

“Oh I did- he wanted the girl’s necklace, she has been in a wicked temper ever since, the King doesn’t pay me enough for this”

Over the next couple of days, Arielle felt herself go from bad to worse. It was not the material object of the gif that mattered. It was this idea of not having any grounding of being trapped. She suddenly became more aware of her limits, of her confinements. Of how much she missed her family. The necklace was a symbol.

Who was her ally?

The bustle of officers, actresses and curious traders made for decent observing; they were like headless chickens on the 24th. Arielle failed to take notice of the man behind her. His hand dropped to her shoulder, startling her with a squeak. “Hush now” came Mr Townsend’s voice “Do not startle all of York City.”

Even now, she felt herself chuckling. “Come”. He was gesturing to the cellar. Leaving first; curious Arielle disappeared from the crowd into the back. Two seconds later, he held out his arm. “Where are you escorting me to, Mr Townsend?” “You will see.”

Robert guided her to his room and with the wit she had left she turned “Now this is not very proper”.

“Look what is on the bed.”

There was a small brown paper package wrapped neatly in twine. It was not very thick, and she could tell there was cloth under it. “Am I to open it” “Well it is a gift, I believe that is what you do with them” Too curious to retort Arielle undid the tie and noted underneath one of his handkerchiefs- the one subtly embroidered with white cross-stitch. Unfolding it, she felt something cold. By God, it was impossible.

Sparkling back at her was her necklace.

“It is not a replica; it is the same one...I traced down Captain Hennley’s contact and made some inquiries the man he sold it to is in debt to me for sharing stock so in exchange for settling our debts I got it back” Robert explained, each word gave her this urge to embrace the living daylights out of him and never let go.

“Before you ask why you were far too miserable for this establishment and I could not have it affecting business” “business? What one?” “the one of my mental state.”

So he was concerned about her. She had an ally.

“I suppose it is a Christmas present.”

“Don’t tell any of the other Quakers” Robert cooed with an amused expression.

“Now, let me put that on for you” gently moving her hair out of the way he clasped it around her neck, his breath warm against it. If Arielle could have melted, she would have. Then he knelt down placing an intense, warm kiss to the back of her neck.

The gesture made her think of customs. In Sephardi culture, a groom as a sign of engagement would gift anything of value, a coin, a ring or a necklace. It was a sign of the marriage that he could support them. It was not limited to the Ashkenazi ring or coin. It could be earrings, or it could be the hunting down of the string of pearls around her neck.

“I won’t tell the Quakers if you won’t tell the Jews.”

With a grin, she added “or else we might be engaged.”

Startled, Robert sharply inhaled before laughing “I think I could think of worse things.”

“Run along, go light up the room again.”

Instead of moving, Arielle sprung up and embraced him. Her head in his shoulder, arms tight around him. Robert’s arms were soon around her. A quiet, warm embrace. Murmuring a thank you, she caught the sight of him.

Robert Townsend was smiling, gentle and unaided.

#12 days of turn #12 days of christmas #turn: washington's spies #turn amc #Robert Townsend #gifts #Arielle Nathan #𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 #𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 #𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 #𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 & 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

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Dead or Alive: Donny Donowitz x Latina!Reader

You don't have to be Latina to read (we do be needin the rep though XD)

TRIGGER WARNING: Xenophobia/Racism, Mentions of segregation

Requested by @sansasdove

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

______________ Donny and Utivich were sent out to an isolated town, while the rest of the basterds finished up a mission a miles and miles south of there. They'd meet back up a few nights later, in their hideout in the woods. Meanwhile, Donny and Utivich were tasked with finding a new troop assigned to the basterds by the OSS. The only problem was they didn't know your name, rank, or what you looked like. All they knew was that you were a marine in the Pacific at some point. "You think that's her?" Donny narrowed his eyes, looking in the direction where Utivich had (tried to) discreetly gesture toward. "Are you pointing at the lady with the baby?" "Wh-" Utivich then realized the likelihood of that lady being their contact, and turned red as he stammered, "N-no... They wandered around the town, trying their best not to get any unwanted attention. After a while, Donny started grumbling, "Well no one fucken told us who the hell we're looking for!" "What about her?"

Donny glanced up, and it took him a moment after he smirked to nod, "Yeah she's cute." "No...I meant...do you think that's her?" "Oh! Well..." His hand rested on the back of his neck, as he cleared his throat, "Sure, sure...uh..." He noted the way you stood by an old tavern, newspaper in hand, appearing innocent to the untrained eye. "The kid stands like a goddamn marine." "Donny, wait!" Donny walked past you slowly, almost unnoticeably glancing toward you. Your eyes scanned over the newspaper, beneath the brim of your hat. You acknowledged the newcomers with a slight, almost imperceptible nod, and remarked beneath your breath, "I've been compromised. Don't follow." Donny stalled for a moment. "Leave. Now. I'll catch up." You spoke through gritted teeth, hidden behind the newspaper. Donny went ahead without a word, understanding the implications of associating with a compromised spy. He pulled Utivich along without explaining anything. They turned a corner, and Donny glanced back one last time, seeing if he could spot anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a nazi staring at you, and approaching, barking something in broken French and intermittent German. Your stone-cold narrowed eyes, and defiant, fearless face remained unbothered as you slowly lowered your newspaper, seemingly annoyed by the nazi's interruption. That alone told Donny you knew exactly what you were doing. But, night came, and morning passed. There was no sign of you at all. "Donny..." That was the first thing Utivich said since then. Of course, he was usually a quiet, composed kind of guy. Sarcastic and witty whenever needed, but only when he had something to say. He didn't now. He just hated the unsettling silence. Even more so, since Donny hadn't said anything either, which was even more unsettling. Donny looked up, but what could really be said? If something had happened to you, then...another good, young life was meaninglessly lost in an seemingly endless war. And if something hadn't happened to you, then it was certainly coming, and Donny wasn't prepared to let that happen. Why? Well... in that infinitesimal instant that he glanced at you, he looked into your eyes, and he saw so much life. Something unexplicably cheerful, even in the face of the worst the world had to offer. A smug, determined intent to fight, to love, to go on. Something Donny only saw in the eyes of the innocent, and the brave. Somehow, you seemed to be both, all at once. He turned back, marching toward the distant village. "Where are you going?" "I'm not goin' back to camp without that troop." "But-" "We're finding her Smitty. Dead or alive." As they'd soon find out, those were the terms and conditions given to the nazis that were hunting you. Donny was so hung up in finding you, he and Smitty were caught. They were tied up, and thrown beside you, in a line on a ledge overlooking a swift, lashing river, facing a nazi patrol in the forest. "I told you not to follow." You sounded more disappointed than angry, which struck Donny, though he didn't dare look at you. Smitty turned, "We didn't." You turned to look at his sergeant, "I could've handled this." "But you didn't," he quipped. "You got a problem with me, sergeant?" You challenged him, with a slight smirk he couldn't really resist. One of the nazis that had captured you had just about enough. The orders on finding the basterds were to keep them alive, and bring them in for interrogations and of course, torture. Orders for finding a common nuisance believed to be an informant were as follows: dead or alive. So, the nazis had some leeway when it came to your fate...so they thought at first. Though, they did need at least some kind of answers. The nazi noticed a silver chain around your neck. He reached, and frowned when he realized what he'd pulled out of your shirt was a dog tag. Seething, he remarked, "Y/n L/n." He narrowed his eyes at your name, then spat at you. In his foul ignorance, he confused you with a Spaniard, he accused you of being a traitor to the axis. He strung together what little Spanish he could from dealings between Germany and Spain, "Traidora. Eres una española," (which was completely wrong) he swung and struck you in the jaw. Donny pulled against the ropes used to tie him and Utivich up, "HEY!" You looked up at the nazi, as two more dragged you back to your feet. Blood dripped down your nose, and out the corner of your mouth. You spat right back at him, staining his face and uniform with your blood. "I am not a Spaniard." You held your head up high, proud of who you were, who your parents were, and their parents. You muttered under your breath, glaring right at him with eyes that would scare just about any nazi, "Hijo de puta."

You stood strong, resilient, looking him in the empty, hateful voids he called eyes. The nazi glared right back, though a shadow of panic and fear loomed behind his shallow blue eyes, as he stammered to find words, and hid his fear in German curses and mumbles. The nazi was ready to attack you again, but Utivich and Donny started to put up a fight. When some of the nazis threatened to kill them, the nazi's colonel finally emerged from his tent, ordering his men to stand down. "Wir sollen die Basterds lebendig machen." 'We're to bring the basterds in alive.' The nazi that had attempted to torment you turned harshly to his colonel, demanding to know "Und das Mädchen?" 'And the girl?' His colonel tossed a gun at him, nonchalantly commenting with a disinterested shrug and sigh, "Werde sie los." 'Get rid of her.' Donny turned between you and Utivich, "What's happening?! What the fuck's happening?!" You understood what was happening, but telling Donny would only put him in more danger. Besides, you could see the sheer emotion in his eyes. He wasn't scared for himself, he was scared for you, and you knew it. You stood silent, and glared ahead at the mob of nazis, right at your dim fate. Donny could tell from just that look. A resigned, brave soldier? It was something he was all too uncomfortably familiar with. He and Utivich lurched forward, in spite of the ropes, toward the nazis, "COWARDS! YOU FUCKING COWARDS-"

While everyone was distracted trying to control Donny, they all stopped and turned, hearing the rushing river splash unusually loudly. You were gone. The nazis rushed to the edge of the ledge, and peered toward the river below. The colonel looked at the other nazis, shouting, "STEHEN SIE NICHT NUR DORT. OFFENES FEUER." 'DON'T JUST STAND THERE. OPEN FIRE.' Each of them rushed over to the end of the ledge, and started to fire into the murky rapids. After a seemingly endless torrent of bullets...there was nothing. No body floating, no cloud of red in the water. The colonel turned, snatched the dog tag from the soil, and read the name. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, as his eyes went wide with rage, "IHR IDIOTEN." 'YOU IDIOTS.' Utivich turned to Donny with a bloodied smirk, "Well I understood that." The colonel's commanding officer wanted you brought in for questioning. In fact, so did everyone in the German army who was someone. You were a ghost story in the Matanikau River, when you were still stationed in the Pacific. When you emerged in the European theater...well...all of Berlin was sacked, and all of Paris was turned upside in an effort to find you.

"Find. Her." The nazis wasted no time, they all knew that he'd show them no mercy. The nazi that had been responsible for the confusion...well, he begged, shaking in his boots. One shot to the forehead was all it took to quiet him down. His colonel kicked his body to the side. He stayed behind, sitting by a fire, as the sun set, watching Donny and Utivich intently. Eventually, he began to noticeably shift around, constantly checking his watch. He wasn't used to being kept waiting... None of his men came back. All the while, Donny taunted him, meaning time went by a thousand percent more slowly. He reminded the nazi who the fuck the basterds were, telling him it wouldn't be long before Aldo the Apache was coming down the hills. Donny swore it wouldn't be long before Hugo Stiglitz got his hands on the nazis. It wouldn't be long before... He detailed how he and the basterds had quite literally ripped local nazis to shreds. He even gave names. Names that colonel definitely knew. He screamed for Donny to shut up, barely able to control his murderous impulses, even knowing high command wanted Donny and Utivich, or any basterd for that matter, be taken in alive as a trophy, and for information. He really couldn't do much more than beat Donny up, and Utivich for good measure. But at the end of the day, the only one that was terrified was the nazi, and each second seemed to be slower than the last, while Donny and Utivich looked at him smugly. Eventually, around midnight, after hours and hours, and after Utivich was sure there was no way out, he hung his head down again. Just then he heard an agonizing, almost sobbing, gargling sound coming from the now calmer river. The remaining nazi stood up, his gun trained on the basterds, as he marched cautiously toward the river bank, every few steps, looking back at Donny and Utivich making sure they hadn't moved. "Give it up, kraut. Your boys're no match for ours." Donny taunted him again. The unmistakable sound of a muffled scream, and a knife made both Donny and Utivich turn toward the river. It wasn't exactly who they were expecting. You were standing there, dripping from the river, your clothes soaked in cold water and stained blood. "You're alive?!" Donny's voice was happier and more relieved than he intended to let on, as you cut them free, "Yes, sir." "How'd...how'd you do that?!" Utivich looked at you with star-struck eyes. "I'm a marine," you winked with a smile. "Marine, huh." Donny twisted his hands around his aching wrists, trying to relieve the soreness from being tied up so long. "Lance Corporal Y/n L/n, at your service, sir." You saluted him. "Nice to meet'cha kid," He smiled, genuinely, though his soft glance had to be cut short by the realization that you were all still in the middle of a war, and possibly a man-hunt. "And nice of you to salute and all, but we better get movin'." You nodded, and tossed something at him, catching the light of the moon in a fleeting silver glint. "What's this?"

"Their colonel's dogtag." You eyed the ones that Donny kept around his neck as trophies, "I see you got a collection going there." Donny smiled, as his heart skipped a beat. You'd fit right in with the basterds...

Your first mission with the basterds was not quite what anyone would expect, but then again, neither were you. For an impromptu rescue, it wasn't too bad. ************* All three of you sat kilometers away, a few hours later, still under the guise of the dark night, by a small fire, attempting to remain hidden, though all of you were freezing cold, especially you. Donny gave you his coat, and Utivich gave you his hat, trying to keep you from catching anything. "Heard ya made a mess of Berlin and Paris." You glanced up at him cheekily, "They sent me to you for a reason, sir."

"Call me Donny," he smiled warmly, between the steely moonlight, and the golden embers of the fire. Utivich asked, "So...you heard of us, but how come we ain't heard of you..." "Some of us are good at making things look like an accident," you teased him a little, and Utivich laughed. Donny turned a little red, and nodded subtly, damning himself for seeing the stars adorning your hair, and the night sky in your eyes. His heart was pounding, and he didn't even try to deny why. Who would, when they saw you the way he did? You were all silent for a few moments, then Donny asked you what he asked any of the other basterds when they first met. "So, uh...why'd ya enlist?" You were quiet for another moment, then looked back at Donny. Your eyes seemed tired. Not from the long day, or even from the impressive tactics... Tired from memories, doomed to be repeated, as you sighed, "You ever see those signs?" "What signs?" He raised his eyebrow, then glanced at Utivich, who seemed equally as puzzled. "The ones in nice stores and parks and schools. Places like that. The signs that go 'no dogs, no black people, no mexicans allowed.' Doesn't even matter if you're Guatemalan, Dominican, Bolivian or Argentine, anything...They don't give a fuck. Those signs." Utivich looked at you, his heart was heavy as he nodded quietly. He was from a particularly open, urban place in the west...and even then he'd seen things like that. Things he didn't want to see when he went back home... He knew what it was like to have people hate you for what you were... Your name, your language, your family. Most of the basterds knew. Aldo and Hugo may not have known first-hand, but they'd be damned if they let anyone get away with that sort of bullshit while they were around. Donny's heart sank a little, as he murmured, "Fuck a duck..." He looked up at you, nodding slowly, "Yeah I've seen those." "Yeah, well I didn't see those in any bases. The one chance I got at being treated like a human, and it's gotta be when I don't know if there's a tomorrow. Get it?" His heart broke, in a way he didn't see coming. He shook his head, and you sighed as you shifted a little closer to the dying fire, "Anyway, this fucking war's been on for what, three years, now? I wanna end this before my kid brother has to. Guess that's another reason right there." Donny understood that too. He had nothing more to say other than what was on his mind. "You're a good kid, Y/n..." "Thanks," You glanced up at him. And for a moment...a moment he would've missed if he'd blinked...you didn't have that trademark bold, striking look in your eyes. For a moment, you glanced away, shyly, with a small, quiet, innocent smile. Utivich noticed. He looked at Donny with a smirk, but said nothing. He knew to leave well enough alone.... "Ya know, I got a kid brother too. His name's Mikey."

You smiled softly, and pulled out a locket, tightly wrapped around your finger. You didn't open it, but you let it dangle a little, "Carlos." Donny chuckled, "Smitty there is the kid brother. At home, and at camp." "So that's how it's gonna be, Donny?" Utivich tilted his head with a laugh. You chuckled, "And how's that working out for you, Utivich?" He shrugged a little, though he was clearly amused, "Great. So far...I've only gotten one purple heart, which may be the lowest out of all the basterds....But my mom's still going to kill me when I get home." "Why?" "I enlisted, see? Didn't get drafted." He smiled at you. He was, as you'd soon learn, a real sweet, honest guy. Sometimes you wondered how a guy like that even made it into a team like the basterds... But then you'd see him in the battlefield, or getting a few scalps, and you'd remember why. "My sisters tried to talk me out of it. My older brother couldn't enlist because he's got asthma. He just married too, so it would be real upsetting... Anyway... What can I say...Of course they didn't want me to go, I'm my mom's youngest kid." "A baby," Donny remarked, which Utivich ignored. "They wanted me to go to college, but honestly? I don't regret a damn thing, Y/n." You smiled, understanding that need to be free to choose. Soon after, you all decided to was best to put the fire out, for fear of the smoke giving away your place. You were sure they were asleep. You shivered, still damp from the river. You were wide awake, your arms wrapped around yourself, watching as your breath turned into a cloud before your eyes. You sneezed softly. "Hey..." You heard a voice, warm, and quiet. Donny wrapped his arms around you, and you instantly sank into his chest. He smiled a little, speaking quietly so Utivich wouldn't wake up. "Can't have ya getting sick on us now, can we, kid?" You didn't protest much, as you couldn't remember the last time you were so tired. So Donny smiled sleepily, and held you tightly as he fell asleep. (He may like being big spoon but who knows ;) ) He couldn't tell you how panicked, and lost he felt when you disappeared on them for those long hours....But he'd tell you that some other day. Some day, when you were far away fom there. When you were safe...

******* You all arrived at the hideout finally, extraordinarily late, even for Donny. After you were introduced to the legendary basterds, Aldo took you aside for a little talk. He asked you what happened out there. You were days late, after all. Being a spy, you naturally spun a tale so convincing, it damn near worked, as a way to cover for the boys' little mishap, and to save face for them. Frankly, Aldo just nodded, saying it was fair enough, and let you on your way. He then joined Donny and Smitty, who were both looking for something to kill their headaches with (of course after being punched that many times in the face, it was understandable). "I know Y/N's coverin' for you both." Utivich, slightly startled, turned around with a jump and panicked. "What? We didn't tell her to do that, we-"

Aldo didn't care for explanations, "Now, I don't give no goddamns, but if I didn't know any better, I'd think she was tellin' the truth." He chuckled a little, "But, I know you two are some damn trouble makers." Utivich nodded, and sighed, "Ok, you got us." Donny turned slowly to Utivich, and narrowed his eyes, "Snitch." Aldo shrugged, "And anyway...even if her story did check out, it don't explain to me why and how you got yourself a black eye, Donowitz. And why my boy Utivich here's got his lip busted open, does it." "Aldo..." Aldo sighed, "That kid's let the boys in her old teams take all the credit in public. But here, well, she gon' make one hell of a basterd, ain't that right Donny." He winked, and smirked. Donny sighed, "That obvious, huh?" There was no use in denying it anyway. It would only be a matter of time before the basterds started to notice the way Donny looked at you. Aldo shrugged, as he tossed a bottle of pain killers at Utivich, "Just a lucky guess, son." He started to make his way out, but turned around for another minute, "Oh, and Donny?" "Yeah?" "Go on, you fucken basterd." Aldo shook his head, grinning. Donny smiled, as he walked out, and made his way over to you. Somehow, you made him feel a way he never felt before for anyone. When you were around, Donny was calm. He'd never admit it...but after what happened the day you met...he felt safe when you were near. Maybe your reputation preceded you... Maybe that was all...

But then again, when Donny talked to you, he wasn't as loud as he normally was. When he looked at you, and walked toward you, he didn't try to make himself look and act the like biggest, baddest basterd around. He didn't need to. When you were around, he knew he didn't have to worry. He knew he'd somehow make it home. When you were around, the question was no longer dead or alive... When you were around, and he saw that smile, and those eyes, he knew he'd be alright. Who the hell wouldn't, when they had you?

#Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #Donny Donowitz #donny-donowitz #donny donowitz imagine #donny donowitz x reader #smithson utivich #Smitty #donny donowitz x latina!reader #latina!reader

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years

Note

Some fluff hc for shouto with a s/o who lip sync love songs to him

todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: pure fluff

word count: 1,665

A/N: i loved this request so much as soon as i started actually writing it out, like ngl at first i was like OMG HOW DO I WRITE THIS, but i figured it out. anyways i now how over 200+ followers and that has me Q U A K I N G so i wanna do something fun for all you people i manipulated into liking me LOL, i hope you enjoy anon! please let me know if you do :D (edited because song lyrics messed up on mobile)

if you had to be known as something in class 1-a, it would be for your ability to effortlessly perform karaoke ((even if you weren’t that good of a singer, you were entertaining)) and the classes bimonthly lip-sync challenge extravaganza champion

you had won five out of the eight competitions, not that you were keeping tracks or anything

you just loved the energy of a good lip-sync, it was basically acting for people like you and your peers who were not made to be movie stars

so it really did not surprise anyone when you joined the baku-squad to randomly approach your fellow classmates, and school mates and break out in a flashmob type performance, only with lip-syncing (minus bakugou because he refused to even participate in these actions)

so the second you began unironically lip-syncing at every time of the day, your boyfriend shouto was both ready, and not ready in the slightest

it started off small

when you and shouto had planned a date to go off-campus and plain and simply “get lost”

shouto knew immediately he had made a mistake when he asked you if there were any plans tonight so the two of you could go out, and you squealed pulling out your phone and picked a great song

“Do you got plans tonight, baby? I was hoping I could get lost in your paradise. The only thing I’m thinking ‘bout is you and I, And I-I-I can’t get you off my mind, Can’t get you off my mind. I can’t seem to get you off my mind, yeah. Let’s get lost tonight, Let’s get lost tonight, Baby, you and I can’t seem to get you off my mind. Let’s get lost tonight.”

you dramatized your actions as Shawn Mendes voice filled his room.

“well, if I’m being honest, maybe I should date him instead…”

“TODOROKI-KUN!”

it then happened again a few days later, you had been baking with the girls in preparation of midterms because sweets always helped make the suffering the tiniest bit more bearable.

you, however, needed to study, and despite shouto’s everyone’s disproval, you still were actively participating in baking when you and mina weren’t busy trying to contract salmonella by eating the different batters when momo and tsu weren’t looking

“y/l/n, you need to study…” shouto spoke as he watched you spill the contents of the flour bag into a measuring cup for momo

you shook your head defiantly, already knowing that your boyfriend was going to come down and tell you to leave and so you were ready, so you merely raised your phone,

“But girls, they wanna have fun. Oh girls just want to have, That’s all they really want. Some fun. When the working day is done. Oh, girls, they wanna have fun. Oh, girls just wanna have fun.”

you playfully danced around the kitchen as your lips never stopped moving in synch to the lyrics, and you made your way over to shouto, a grin on your face

pressing a kiss to his cheek you giggle, “I’ll be up once we put everything in to bake, I promise!”

as soon as you had returned to shouto’s room to study, he was giving you a very judgmental look as you kissed him, a smirk on your face as you clicked play

“y/l/n, I swear if you play what I think you’re going to–”

“Oh no, not I, I will survive. Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I’ll stay alive. I’ve got all my life to live, And I’ve got all my love to give and I’ll survive. I will survive!!!!!!!”

you wiggled your eyebrows at shouto who accurately assumed what song you’d lip sync for him

shouto stared at you, a complete deadpan

as you laughed in supreme joy of getting the boy annoyed, the laughter turned into shrieks as shouto launched himself towards you, tickling your sides

“I WILL SURVIVE!!!” you cackle in between gasps of breath as he kisses you softly

weeks later, you held yourself in attempt to bring warmth to yourself in your cold room because even with two blankets and the heater on, you were cold

stupid winter

deciding to risk getting caught by night owls like kaminari and sero, you snuck into shouto’s room where he was writing a letter, most likely to his mother because he hadn’t had the time to go see her recently

“wow, the old man is still up!” you say in honest shock and complete playful mockery

“now I regret staying up so late, I have a crackhead in my room.” shouto responds back and your jaw drops

he was so good being witty, it was unfair

“shouto, I’m cold.”

“I don’t feel cold.”

“wanna dance with me?”

“I don’t really want my feet to be stepped on…”

you puffed your cheeks out in mild frustration as a knowing smirk sat on shouto’s face, he had gotten too good at detecting when you would serenade him with another lip-sync, but even if he had deflated your joy in annoying him, you still played the song

“yeah, im still playing with it, deal with it!”

“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the heat with somebody. Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody, With somebody who loves me. Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the heat with somebody. Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody, With somebody who loves me.“

you smile contently as shouto allows you to snuggle up close to him as the two of you sway slowly in his room and you realize quickly how less cold you feel

“are you using your quirk?” you whisper into his chest unsure if the heat now flooding your system was created by shouto, or caused by him

“hm, no. do you want me to?”

you smile and shake your head, “I’m perfect right now.”

it’s your guys’ graduation ceremony, and as an old tradition, your class was going to go out all together. it was mina’s choice and so she chose for the class to go dancing at some club for 18+-year-olds.

you stood ready in your favorite partying outfit knowing that tonight was going to be one of the final nights where you would not be obsessed with hero work and would be with your high school family like this

you were scrolling through your phone looking for a song that you wanted to lip-sync to shouto before you all left because it had been weeks since you had an epiphany and you hadn’t gathered the nerve to tell him it yet

“Hey, y/l/n-chan, can you go get todoroki? he’s the only one not down here yet.” mina asked and you nodded your hand

“you guys can go.” you insisted as you had found the perfect song, “we’ll catch up!”

the class nodded knowing that the two of you weren’t the type to hookup during the time and so they left taking most of the part excitement with them

gathering your nerve, you climbed up the stairs to shouto’s room, your phone grasped in your hand

you walked in on shouto wearing a pair of plain black slacks and a simple white T-shirt that was snuggly fitted, and you choked on your tongue at his appearance

shouto glanced over at you and smiled, “what song is it? I’m not really aware of any hurry-up-now-please songs.”

with a shaky finger, you pressed play on the song, tucking away the phone and walked towards shouto who turned and looked at you in near disbelief

“Wise men say only fools rush in, But I can’t help falling in love with you. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin If I can’t help falling in love with you? Like a river flows surely to the seaDarling, so it goesSome things are meant to beTake my hand, take my whole life tooFor I can’t help falling in love with you. Like a river flows surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes, Some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too, For I can’t help falling in love with you, For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

you break away from shouto who you had wrapped your arms delicately around his shoulders as you managed to sing along with the song, a blush staining your entire face, tears misting in both of your eyes

“I-i’ve fallen in love with you.”

and poor shouto has no idea what to say, so instead, he reacts

he places a kiss to your lips as he holds you close

“I’m in love with you, too.”

I honestly had sooo much fun with this??? I love doing lip-synch during finals week because the stress of everything really makes songs entertaining to perform!!! songs are listed here by order of appearance: is Lost In Japan by Shawn Mendes, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper, I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor, I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me) by Whitney Houston, and Can’t Help Falling In Love by Kina Grannis. (((its the cover from Crazy Rich Asians and I love that cover, fight me)))

bonus!

it had been four years since graduating and shouto was getting ready to propose and the entire class 1-a was waiting for shouto to arrive

“how do you think he’s going to do it?” uraraka sighs dreamily as she stares at her engagement ring on her own finger

“better not be fucking stupid.” bakugou mutters from the opposite end of the room

“I don’t know about you guys, but if shouto doesn’t propose by lip-synching ‘Marry Me’ by Jason Derulo, or ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran, I think I deserve to take y/n from him.” kaminari joked as he remembered that old playful thing you and everyone else were semi-obsessed about

“I’ll take some of that action!” mina laughs

everyone quiets up as shouto walks in, “so, I have an idea. I hope you guys like it…”

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki headcanons #todoroki fluff #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha headcanons #mha #mha x reader #mha headcanons #mha todoroki

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freedomartspress · 4 years

Text

Three Poems — Tongo Eisen Martin

Kick Drum Only

All street life to a certain extent starts fair

Sometimes with a spiritual memory even

Predawn soul-clap/ your father dying even

Maybe I’ve pushed the city too far

My sensitivities to landfill districting and minstrel whistles/

White supremacist graffiti on westbound rail guards

-all overcome and reauthored

The garbage is growing voices

Condensed Marxism

modal gangsterism for a warrior-depressive

Underpass in my pocket

because I am a deity

or decent bid on the Panther name

revolutionary violence that chose its own protagonists

or muted stage of genius

A merciful Marxism

Disquieted home life

Or metaphor for relaxing next to a person

Who is relaxing next to a gun

I stare at my father for a few seconds

Then return to my upbringing

Return to the souls of Ohio Black folks

Revolution is damn near pagan at this point

You know what the clown wants? The respect of the ant.

Wants a pen cap full of bullets

Wants to see their ancestors in broad daylight

I am not tired of these rooms; just tired of the world that give them a relativity

My only change of clothes prosecuted

The government has finally learned how to write poems

shoot-outs that briefly align…

that make up a parable

white bodies are paid well, I posit

do white men actually even have leaders?

all white people are white men

white men will only ever be metaphors

all I do is practice, Lord

A rat pictures a river

Can almost taste the racial divide

Can almost roll a family member’s head into a city hall legislative chamber

Knows who in this good book will fly

I have decided not to talk out of anger ever again, Lord

Met my wife at the same time I met new audience members for our pain

We passed each other cigarettes and watched cops win

A city gone uniquely linear

Harlem of the West due a true universe

“I will always remember you in fancy clothes,” my wife said

so here I sit… twisting in silk ideation

My rifle made of tar

My targets made of an honest language

This San Francisco poetry is how God knows that it is me whining

Writing among the lesser-respected wolves

Lesser-observed militarization

Dixie-less prison bookkeeping/I mean the California gray-coats are coming

lynch mob gossip and bourgeois debt collection

I mean, it’s tempting to change professions mid-poem

in a Chicago briefing, a white sergeant saying, “blank slate for all of us after this Black organizer is dead.”

standard academics toasting two-buck wine at the tank parade

bay of nothing, Lord

nuclear cobblestones, gunline athleticism

and the last of the inherited asthma

children given white dolls to play with and fear

facial expressions borrowed from rich people’s shoe strings

I can hear hate

And teach hate

And call tools by people names

And name people dead to themselves

no one getting naturalized except federal agents soon

carving the equator into throats soon

I’m sorry to make you relive all of this, Lord

pre-dawn monarchy

friends putting up politician posters then snorting the remainder of the paste

minstrel scripts shoveled into the walls by their elders

my children sharpening quarters on the city’s edge

For these audiences

I project myself into a ghost like state

For these gangsters, I do the same

every now and then, we take a nervous look east

Sleep becomes Christ

Sleep starts growing a racial identity

do you ever spiral, Lord?

has the gang-age betrayed us?

be patient with my poems, Lord

So much pain

there is a point to crime…

There has to be if race traitors come with it

Lord, is that my revolver in your hand?

Better presidents than these have yawned at cages

Have called us holy slaves

Filled the school libraries with cop documentaries

Baby, I don’t have money for food

I have no present moment at all

I Do Not Know the Spelling of Money

I go to the railroad tracks

And follow them to the station of my enemies

A cobalt-toothed man pitches pennies at my mugshot negative

All over the united states, there are

Toddlers in the rock

I see why everyone out here got in the big cosmic basket

And why blood agreements mean a lot

And why I get shot back at

I understand the psycho-spiritual refusal to write white history or take the glass freeway

White skin tattooed on my right forearm

Ricochet sewage near where I collapsed

into a rat-infested manhood

My new existence as living graffiti

In the kitchen with

a lot of gun cylinders to hack up

House of God in part

No cops in part

My body brings down the Christmas

The new bullets pray over blankets made from old bullets

Pray over the 28th hour’s next beauty mark

Extrajudicial confederate statue restoration

the waist band before the next protest poster

By the way,

Time is not an illusion, your honor

I will return in a few whirlwinds

I will save your desk for last

You are witty, your honor

You’re moving money again, your honor

It is only raining one thing: non-white cops

And prison guard shadows

Reminding me of

Spoiled milk floating on an oil spill

A neighborhood making a lot of fuss over its demise

A new lake for a Black Panther Party

Malcom X’s ballroom jacket slung over my son’s shoulders

Pharmacy doors mid-slide

The figment of village

a noon noose to a new white preacher

Wiretaps in the discount kitchen tile

-All in an abstract painting of a president

Bought slavers some time, didn’t it?

The tantric screeches of military bolts and Election-Tuesday cars

A cold-blooded study in leg irons

Leg irons in tornado shelters

Leg irons inside your body

Proof that some white people have actually fondled nooses

That sundown couples

made their vows of love over

opaque peach plastic

and bolt action audiences

Man, the Medgar Evers-second is definitely my favorite law of science

Fondled news clippings and primitive Methodists

My arm changes imperialisms

Simple policing vs. Structural frenzies

Elementary school script vs. Even whiter white spectrums

Artless bleeding and

the challenge of watching civilians think

“terrible rituals they have around the corner. They let their elders beg for public mercy…beg for settler polity”

“I am going to go ahead and sharpen these kids’ heads into arrows myself and see how much gravy spills out of family crests.”

Modern fans of war

What with their t-shirt poems

And t-shirt guilt

And me, having on the cheapest pair of shoes on the bus,

I have no choice but to read the city walls for signs of my life

The Chicago Prairie Fire

First, I must apologize to the souls of the house

I am wearing the cheek bones of the mask only

Pill bottle, my name is yours

Name tagged on the side of a factory of wrists

Teeth of the mask now

Back of the head of the mask now

New phase of anti-anthropomorphism fending for real faces

Stuck with one of those cultures that believes I chose this family

I am not creative

Just the silliest of the revolutionaries

My blood drying on

my only jacket

just as God got playful

the police state’s psychic middlemen

Evangelizing for the creation of an un-masses

An un-Medgar

Blood of a lamb less racialized

or awesome prison sentence

Good God

Elder-abuse hired for the low

dog eat genius

Right angle made between a point

On a Louisiana plantation

And 5-year old’s rubber ball

3 feet high and falling

like a deportee plane

to complete my interpretation

(of garden variety genocide)

I am small talk

about loving your enemies

A little more realistically

About paper tigers

And also gold…

I need my left hand back

I broke my neck on the piano keys

Found paradise in a fistfight

Maybe I should check into the Cuba line

Watching the universe’s last metronomes

some call Black Jacobins

Just wait…

These religions will start resigning in a decade or two

Some colorfully

Some transactional-ly

In a cotton gothic society

Class betrayal gone glassless/ I mean ironically/ my window started fogging over too

Wondering which Haiti will get me through this winter

Which poem houses souls

Which socialist breakthroughs

Breakthroughs like ten steps back

Then finally stillness

Stillness

Then stillness among families

a John Brown biography takes a bow

I’m up next to introduce Prosser to Monk

I remember childhood

Remember the word “Childhood” being a beginning

Scribbling on an amazing grace

I rented this body from some circumference of slavery

Remember being kicked out of the Midwest

Strange fruit theater

Lithium and circuses

Likeminded stomachs

The ruling class blessing their blank checks with levy foam…

with opioid tea

Sentient dollar bills yelling to each other pocket to pocket

Cello stands in the precinct for accompanying counterrevolutionaries

My mother raised me with a simple pain

A poet loses his mind, you know, like the room has weather

Or first-girlfriend gravity

Police-knock gravity

Mind-game gravity

Or revolution languishing behind

The sugar in my good friend’s mind

“The difference between me and you

Is that the madness

Wants me forever”

A pair of apartments

Defining both my family

And political composure

Books behind my back

Bail money paved into the streets

Playing:

Euphoria

Cliché

Bracing for the medicine’s recoil

Sharing a dirty deli sandwich with my friends

Black Jacobins

Underground topography

Or grandmother’s hands

Psychology of the mask now

Teeth of the mask again

—

Originally from San Francisco, Tongo Eisen-Martin is a movement worker and educator who has organized against mass incarceration and extra-judicial killing of Black people throughout the United States. His latest curriculum on extrajudicial killing of Black people, We Charge Genocide Again, has been used as an educational and organizing tool throughout the country. His book of poems, Someone’s Dead Already was nominated for a California Book Award.

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magicalmisstemi · 5 years

Text

Setting Intro

Introduction

“And belongs on a plain of its own not to the world above and not to the world below it simply exists it always has and it always will.”

Mira Garria is seen as one of Alyria’s many wonders, it’s too small to be considered its own world and yet too big to be considered a singular main city(a city owned by a particular race) and is often described as a collection of main cities.

Mira Garria is also one of the most diverse “Cities” in the sense that it isn’t owned by just one race but different races that all identify as Miragarrians, I may go into the main ones later. Mira Garria is usually has very mild spring time weather and when it doesn't it is usually very cold and snowy.

The sky in Miragarrian has miniature floating island above, The River actually flows underground.

The population differs from region to region. Mira Garria also has the highest level of public transport usage, like very few have personal transport. Bunny and rabbit accessories are common

I might as well put it out there Mira Garria is heavily influenced by wonderland now let's move on.

Location

“Just take a deep breath, close your eyes and pretend like the ground isn't falling down from under you.”

No one knows officially where it is located. There are means of transportation that can take you there such as buses and tunnels but no one actually knows how to get there. If you want to go there you need to send an early memo then either catch a bus or go wait in a specific spot where you magically get teleported there.

Important cities

There are multiple cities however there are two important cities:

Dove, this is located in the center of Mira and is the most crowded place their it is also known as the neon city. Its has a very lively nightlife and some people call it the underground drug capital of Alyria even if it is who is to say. The city has narrow crooked streets and is mostly suitable for needle cars.

Scacco, this is located further away from Dove more into the countryside and is usually called noble city, this is because it is where the government is located and where most the nobles live obviously. Scacco is much more greener than Dove, the ground is marbled to look like a chess board and there are flowers growing on the wall of the houses. The air in Scacco is also cleaner and it has a lower population density.

Nobility and Government

The Nobility are divided up into four houses there are multiple sub houses under them;

House of Hearts, House of Spades, House of Clubs And House of Diamonds.

House of Hearts:

House colour, red

House symbol, Heart Shape House motto,“The importance of kindness and empathy should never be underestimated." “One cannot survive without a core.”

The people of the house or hearts are usually dressed very formally in a mix of red and black. They believe in kindness and that the priority of a nation is its people, they tend to be very optimistic and extroverted.They value high level of creativity and Inventive nature.

House of Spades:

House colour, Blue

House symbol, Spade shape

House Motto, “let logic always guide you and keep your heart out of your mouth.”

The people of the House of spades value knowledge and wisdom over everything else. To them the education system and military is one of the main priority.They mostly wear a mix of Royal blue and purple. They tend to see themselves as realist and don't believe in sugar coating anything from time to time they can come off as harsh.

House of Clubs:

House colour, green

House symbol, clover

House motto, “Be witty, cunning and always ready for a challenge."

The people of the House of clubs are very cheeky. They are believed to be very sly and cunning. They value determination and believe strongly in trade and business. They wear mostly green and silver and though tend to be very nice when you first meet them it is advised to be cautious while talking to them

House of Diamonds:

House colour, orange

House symbol, diamond shape

House motto, “Happiness is fleeting so make every second of it count."

The Diamonds are more flashy. They tend to wear a lot of orange and gold.they also focus heavily on relations with other races. They are strong believers of unity and happiness. The believe your happiness and well-being should be put before anyone else's without discounting theirs as well.

Mira Garria is ruled by a queen however the queen has to be elected out of four candidates from the four noble houses.

Important stuff

A noble is born with a card. If you have normal number card you are a basic noble and considered a “paun”. However, some nobles are born with blank cards this means that basically you have a more profound role that could either be; a knight, a bishop, an ace, a jack, a king or a queen. There can only be one of the last two in each house.

There is a special ceremony where the blank cards are revealed and the queens are crowned this happens when the owners of the blank cards are all at least 16.

After the queens are crowned they have to start preparing to campaign. To campaign a queen must have a full court meaning they must have:

30 personal knights

4 aces

2 bishops

8 personal Jacks

1 king

When this is complete they are eligible for a place on the throne.

When one queen wins her full title is for example “Queen Elise of the house of hearts of Mira Garria” they are still queen of their house as well as queen of Mira Garria.

The others will still be referred to as queens as well but not of Mira Garria but of their own house i.e “Queen Robin of the house of Clubs”

King and Queen are merely political titles the gender of either doesn’t matter and they do not have to be married one king and queen couldn't even stand each other and refused to live in the palace together.

Bishops are personal advisors to the queen.

Aces tend to be treasures meaning they handle the money and discuss with the queen when it comes to passing laws.

Jacks are servants they tend to be androgenous but they can be any gender

In a situation where the queen doesn't have a complete court she still has the option of getting a Hatter or A joker however they are very rare and extremely difficult to find much less convince to join your court.

Hatters are referred to as “Mad Hatters”, they tend to stay hidden in cities. They are believed very mentally unstable yet a great asset to have in your court as the have a certain flexibility. Many don't see them as mad simply belonging to a different world with different values than theirs. They also have extremely powerful magic.

Jokers are also very flexible and tend to stay hidden as shapeshifters. Jokers are believed to have been there when the world was being created and are seen primarily as trickster spirits.

The Card are extremely important. Not only are they used aSs a method of identification and a symbol of power but they hold extremely powerful magic that should only be accessible by their owner. Each card has different magic to match the aura of their owner.

The Queens are also expected to work together it is believed that each queen though they aren't the one chosen has something interesting to bring to the table.

@mediocre-prose @avouleance-vessurel @fantasy-shadows

#my writing #worldbuilding #violetvineyard #wip:c.o.a alyria #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #wip:chronicles of alyria #wip #fantasy wip

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sirius · 5 years

Text

Chaos Theory Part 9

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 6316

A/N: Ahh okay this week is going to be super busy for me!! I have two more chapters that I want to release before Christmas, and two more Young gods chapters as well!! It’s going to be a challenge, but I think I can make it. I’m not actually all that happy with this chapter, but it’s important so it’ll have to do. Anyway, enjoy <3

Chapter Nine:

On the morning of the first task, you hardly sleep a wink.

You had watched as the room had gone from complete darkness to those misty, almost whimsical shades of blues and greys without really appreciating it. Instead, you had laid awake in bed, marinating in your own thoughts and anxiety.

In a few hours, your best friend and your sort of boyfriend would be fighting a dragon, and the kind of dread that grows from that is like a fungus spreading across your scalp; it’s uncomfortable, nauseating and terrifying all at once.

The gravity of this entire ordeal has never felt heavier as you lie on your back, staring up at the ceiling, sliding the beads on your bracelet round and round in tight, little circles. You feel like your stomach is climbing its way up your throat, a greasy wave of nausea puttering around at the back of your mouth as you pray to any god that’s listening for Harry’s protection.

Sirius’ words come back to you, whispering in your ear, haunting you as you lay on your back gripping the bed sheets; All I know for certain is that whoever put your name into the Goblet did it for a reason…

You blink, scratching hastily at your wrist. If someone really, truly was going to attack Harry during the Tournament, you would have to do everything in your power to stop them, to ensure Harry was safe, to protect, not only Harry, but those around him like Hermione and Ron and Cedric, even Fleur and Victor, they were all at risk here...

Nightshade crawls up your bed and nestled herself under your arm in a comforting sort of way, purring loudly. You absentmindedly scratch her head, staring blankly at the ceiling as you try to calm your racing thoughts.

It’s a task that is easier said than done in your experience.

Beside you, you hear a soft sigh issue from Hermione’s bed. You wonder, vaguely, if she’s had difficulties sleeping, too. Perhaps she was losing sleep agonising over this, too, turning restlessly in her bed as the minutes rolled by.

You both were invested in this as much as Harry and Cedric were; both of you had spent hours helping Harry with his Summoning Charm and - without anyone knowing of course - you had offered to help Cedric with his task. Cedric, being the noble and fair hearted boy that he is, refused to drag you into something that could get you into trouble, but you made sure the offer would still stand, regardless.

Peering through a crack in your curtains, you notice that the curtains surrounding Hermione are still drawn. Gently prodding Nightshade on her tummy, you peel yourself away from your bed and tip toe across to hers, tugging gently on the curtain.

“Hermione?” You whisper, softly, so as to not wake the sleeping forms of your dorm mates, “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Hermione replies, gently, “Yes I’m — I’m awake.”

You bite down on your bottom lip and carefully open the curtains, poking your head in through the gap.

“Can I...can I come in?” You murmur, sheepishly. Hermione smiles benignly and pats the side of her bed. You crawl in beside her and she pulls you into a warm embrace.

“Worried about Cedric and Harry?” She asks, though it’s more of a statement than a question.

You nod and she squeezes you a little tighter, comforting you without using words, “Aren’t you?”

Hermione pauses, hesitating. You crane your neck to peer up at her and she bites down on her bottom lip. When she speaks, her voice is so soft, it’s almost like a breath of fresh air, “No, I’m not worried...I’m terrified.”

The two of you lay in silence, holding each other close and watching as the light in the room begins to change, getting thicker and warmer, bathing the room in bright, golden light. It’s a stark contrast to the cold dread that drips down your spine like stalactites, but the warmth blossoming between you and Hermione as you lay silently in her arms is enough to distract you from your own thoughts.

Right now, it’s all you need to drift off into a light doze, allowing yourself to relax in your best friends arms for a fleeting moment.

***

When you wake up again, it’s 8am and the spot beside you has grown cold.

You blink lazily; your eyelids feel like sandpaper grazing against your eyeballs. Your body yearns for more sleep, but you know you can’t...not yet...not until the first task is over...

Stifling a yawn behind your fist, you peel yourself away from Hermione’s bed and dress into your school uniform rather sluggishly. After ensuring that you look somewhat presentable, you manage to drag yourself away from your room, down the stairs and out of the common room, mindlessly greeting your friends as they pass. Neville had even tried to strike up a conversation, but you weren’t in the right frame of mind to carry it.

It’s almost like you’re about to throw yourself at a fire-breathing dragon instead of Harry and Cedric; it certainly feels that way. Your stomach feels like it’s been transfigured into a lump of cold steel as you walk toward the Great Hall, not even caring where you’re heading. The fear is persistent and determined to tear the last shreds of your hope and optimism from your rib cage like some sort of hungry, wild beast.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts, you don’t even realise you’ve arrived at the Great Hall until you’re standing in front of Harry and Hermione.

“(Y/N)?” Harry says, softly, your name on his lips drawing you out of yourself.

You blink once, twice, thrice, noting the similar expression Hermione and Harry are wearing. They stare at you carefully, as though they’re afraid you might shatter before their eyes.

Does everyone really think I’m just pretty and emotional?

Irritation bites into you but you let it slide, biting down on the inside of your cheek and feeling the flesh swell in response as you drop into the spot next to Harry.

“How did you sleep?” You ask Harry, pushing your fears aside as you stare into his nervous, green eyes.

“Horribly,” Harry grumbles, playing idly with his food, “But at least I have a plan. Let’s hope it works.”

“I’m sure it will, Harry,” Hermione coos, softly.

“You were loads better at the summoning charm last night,” you piece together a gentle smile you hope looks reassuring.

“About that...” Harry begins, awkwardly, “Uh - thanks for helping.”

“Well, of course,” Hermione snips as though it were the most obvious fact in the world, “We’re your best friends, Harry. We’re here for you!”

You reach under the table and cover his hand with yours, thumbs tracing the smooth hollows between his knuckles. Harry stiffens for a brief, fleeting moment, hesitating before he relaxes into your touch like water flowing around a river stone. He raises his troubled gaze from his plate to your eyes, and for the first time, you see genuine fear creeping into them.

At that moment, all the veiled secrecy that has been welling between the two of you doesn’t matter. Harry could have all the secrets he wants but that will never change how you feel about him. He’s your best friend, now and always, and you will do anything to help him, protect him, support him.

“Always,” you breathe, so gently you’re not sure if he’s heard you. Harry dispels your doubts with a half-hearted smile. He intertwines your fingers.

They stay interlocked for some time, hidden beneath the table like a shared secret and a promise of comfort, breaking apart only after breakfast concludes and you’re both forced to untangle your fingers and start toward your first class. On your way to History of Magic, you spot Cedric and his group of friends chatting excitedly as they head toward their own class, and you excuse yourself from Harry and Hermione, rushing toward Cedric.

“Cedric,” you call, and he spins around at the sound of his name, a dazzling smile filling his lips when he spots you.

“(Y/N)” he beams as you approach him, eyes shimmering like morning stars.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Troy Hammond greets, cheerily. You high five Troy, exchanging quick pleasantries with him before turning to Cedric.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” You ask, ignoring the teasing chortles of Cedric’s friends.

“Of course,” Cedric smiles reassuringly.

“But we have Transfiguration first up,” Troy says, “McGonagall will be pissed...”

“I’m sure she’d be willing to forgive me if I choose to let off some steam before my first task,” Cedric replies, smoothly, the edges of his lips quirking a little. Troy arches a brow.

“I see what’s happening,” Troy smirks, glancing between the two of you and nudging his friends, “(Y/N) Arden is leading our sweet, innocent Cedric astray!”

Cedric rolls his eyes as his friends burst into teasing laughter, “Ignore them, (Y/N). They’re just jealous they can’t have you...”

Troy shrugs, “I mean, you’re not wrong. I’ll be the first to admit that - when Golden Boy Cedric here started ranting obsessively about you - I was a bit jealous.”

Cedric flushes an adorable shade of pink, “I was not ‘ranting obsessively!’”

“Please, Cedric,” one of Cedric's friends pipes up. You recognise her as Kamala Siad, “The way you were talking about her, I thought you were going to propose!”

You bite your lip, warmth blooming beneath your cheeks. Cedric rolls his eyes again, his cheeks the same, romantic tint of pink as a burning sunset.

“Whatever. I’m going to go help (Y/N) now...”

Before his friends can think up any more witty remarks, Cedric takes your hand and leads you away.

“I think you may need some new friends,” you giggle as you arrive in the rose gardens, his hand still snuggly wrapped around yours.

“Tell me about it,” he groans, wincing. You smile softly at Cedric, gazing up at him and admiring for the millionth time how handsome he looks when he’s embarrassed.

“Is it true, though?” You ask, voice gentle against the autumn breeze, “Do you...do you talk about me to your friends a lot?”

Cedric interlaces your fingers with his; they fit together like two pieces of the same heart. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the pressure point between your thumb and index finger.

“I can’t deny that I’m constantly thinking about you,” Cedric��s eyes sparkle as though they contain all the secrets of the universe, “So...maybe it does slip out every now and again.”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and nibble down on a goofy grin, cheeks warming like sunlight on a cold day. He gazes into your eyes, pupils like obsidian against glittering sapphire, his smile pulling back to reveal a row of perfectly even, white teeth.

Such a beautiful smile...

“So...” Cedric begins, slowly, “Was there anything you wanted to talk about?”

“Not really. I just...I wanted to see you before the - uh - first task...”

Cedric nods in understanding, averting his gaze to a nearby tree, his smile faltering for the briefest of moments. Fear and anxiety flit across his expression, passing like a shadow before he composes himself. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze and Cedric catches your gaze again.

“I appreciate it,” he murmurs, a genuine smile playing on the edges of his lips, “Really, I do. Every moment I spend with you makes me stronger.”

He pulls you into a hug and you sigh against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. His lips brush against the crown of your head, planting a long kiss to your hair and breathing you in like oxygen. After a long moment, you pull away, keeping your hand in his, and Cedric points at something in the tree.

“Ravens,” he smiles, and you follow his gaze. Sure enough, two ravens are perched on the branch. For a moment, you get a strange feeling that they had just been watching you, but the feeling vanishes when Cedric continues, “They mate for life, y’know...”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In most cases, they’re so loyal to their mate that if a female’s mate dies, she won’t find another male partner again. Ever.”

You glance back at the two ravens, now playing with each other in the tree. One of them stops, as though realising it’s being watched, and cocks it’s head at you, it’s beady, black eyes clashing with your own.

You turn away, staring up at Cedric, “That’s kind of romantic, in a weird way...”

“I think it’s sad,” Cedric muses, “I mean, That’s the last thing I’d want for my wife or partner. I’d want them to be happy, y’know...”

You turn back to Cedric, wondering what you’d do if Death took him away from you in the same way it took your mother away. You squeeze his hand a little tighter, as though trying to protect him from Death’s grip.

“Kind of morbid, don’t you think?” You mumble, anxiety sprouting between your ribs like weeds.

Cedric chortles and pulls you to his side, slinging an arm over your shoulders, “You’re right. Let’s change the subject.”

The two of you begin to amble down a gravel path, breathing in the scent of roses that blossoms in the autumn air.

“About the Tournament...” you start, anxiously, “I know that Harry didn’t put his name in the Goblet of Fire.”

Cedric raises his brows, “Did you see someone else put it in?”

You chew your bottom lip, “Well, no.”

“Do you have any evidence?”

“....no” you mumble, sheepishly, and Cedric nods.

“How do you know, then?” Cedric asks, gently and unassuming, in a way that passes no judgement in your faith but just out of sheer curiosity.

You stare at Cedric, watching as sunlight streams through his hair and catches in his lashes, bringing out startling hues of blue and grey.

“I just know,” you murmur, “I just...I trust Harry. We’ve been through a lot together so I-I know when he’s lying and - and Cedric, he isn’t lying about this. I think someone put his name in the Goblet so they could plan an attack on him without it looking suspicious.”

Cedric nods again, slowly, as though chewing your comments up and dwelling on them.

“I’ll keep an eye on him for you,” he says, “Make sure he’s okay out there.”

You nearly choke on a sob of relief, lashes fluttering as your heart sings for him, like straining strings to a violin only he knows how to play.

“You would do that?” You breathe, biting your lip. Cedric raises a hand to your cheek, cupping it gently. A comforting, homely warmth tingles beneath his hand as his fingers splay across your skin.

“I’d do anything for you,” he murmurs, “Besides I couldn’t just abandon someone who needs my help.”

Your lips spread into a wide smile, tears pricking the spot behind your eyes as you stare at this boy who would risk it all for you, for your friends, for anyone who needs a helping hand, and you can’t help yourself as you throw your arms around his neck and reach up to the tips of his toes, ready to crash your lips together in a kiss that you’ve dreamt about in every single honey-glazed dream you’ve had of him-

“Miss Arden! Mr Diggory!”

You and Cedric jerk apart. Professor Sprout is standing beside you, dirt-stained hands on her hips. A hint of a smile plays on the corners of her lips, as though she were trying to fight back her amusement.

“Professor Sprout!” You exclaim in embarrassment and surprise, “Um we were just-”

“Consoling Hogwarts champion before the first task,” Professor Sprout interrupts, now not bothering to hide her smile, “I understand he must be feeling quite nervous at this stage...”

Cedric runs a hand through his glossy, brown hair, “Erm...yes. Yes, I am.”

Professor Sprout turns to you, a warm kindness in her large, brown eyes, “Well, I believe offering emotional support to a fellow student is worthy of some points. Ten points to Gryffindor,” her eyes sharpen slightly as her voice suddenly goes stern, “But I suggest that you don’t do this again, in case myself or another Professor aren’t feeling so...generous.”

You and Cedric glance at each other, biting down on a broad grin. Cedric winks at you when Professor Sprout isn’t looking. Professor Sprout stares at you expectantly.

“Well,” she prompts, impatiently, “Off you go, back to class.”

You give Cedric’s hand one last squeeze, a silent bid for good luck, and reluctantly pull away from him. Cedric starts to leave but Professor Sprout stops him.

“Not you, Mr Diggory. I’d - I’d like to have a quick word with you.”

You glance over your shoulder at Cedric, grinning at him. He beams back at you, and as you leave the rose garden, you can’t help but smile as you feel his eyes following your movements.

***

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I think you’re probably right...”

You blink at Ron, unsure if you heard him correctly. It’s possible that you misheard; the hum of excited chatter buzzing in the air around the make-shift stadium is loud enough to drown out Rons murmured confession, but by the look on his face, your doubts are instantly dispelled.

“You mean about Harry?” You ask, and Ron nods sheepishly.

“Maybe he - erm - didn’t put his name in...”

Ron trails off, but you can tell by the way his lips quirk that he wants to say more, “But...?”

Ron sighs, “But...”

“(Y/N)!”

Someone is calling your name. You glance around, scanning the hundreds of faces until you spot Fred Weasley sidling toward you.

“Hey,” you try to smile, but your sick on nervous energy that putters around at the pit of your stomach. Though the smile on Fred’s lips is enough to settle your nerves for a few, fleeting moments.

Fred nods at Ron, “What’s up, prat?”

“Nothing much, git.”

Fred ruffles Rons hair and Ron wrenches himself away, smoothing down his messy hair, disgruntled. They bicker in a brotherly fashion, tossing insults at each other as you sit between them, and you find your gaze drifting, thoughts running away from you.

You bite your bottom lip, staring out at the arena where Harry and Cedric will be fighting their dragons. You can almost imagine it; the ash on your tongue and the smoke in your nose, a scream trapped in your lungs and the nail-biting intensity of your anxiety clawing away at the base of your spine like some sort of hungry beast. The next couple of hours are not going to be fun.

“You looking forward to the Tournament?” Fred asks, signature smirk curving deviously across his lips. You scowl at Fred, provoking a laugh from the twin. He throws his hands up in mock surrender and your expression softens a little, “Fine, that was a dumb question.”

“You said it,” you grumble, stifling a smirk.

“I guess I’d be feeling the same if both of my boyfriends were competing against each other.”

Your eyes snap back to Fred, sharpening into an incredulous stare, “What are you implying, Fred Weasley...?”

“Nothing,” Fred shrugs, “I’m just looking out for my brother.”

You furrow your brows at Fred, glancing at Ron briefly, only to find him wearing a similar, perplexed expression as you. When Fred doesn’t continue or explain, you decide to let the comment slide by unattended to.

“Where is George, by the way?” You ask, glancing around.

“Selling snacks,” Fred replies, simply.

“Oh, are you going to start selling shirts, too?” You ask, tone sardonic, and Fred barks a laugh.

“I love it when you’re feisty,” Fred chortles, grinning, and you roll your eyes at his teasing remark, “And you raise an interesting point. We could start selling t-shirts, we’d get loads from those...”

You shake your head, biting the side of your cheek to stop yourself from smirking at Fred’s sarcasm.

“Profiteering from the chaos,” Ron grumbles, “Why am I not surprised?”

“I’m surprised by your lack of surprise.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips from your lips as you regard him fondly in the sunlight.

“You and George always find ways to cheer me up, you know?”

Fred shrugs casually, “I suppose our natural charm is difficult to resist. Ah, speak of the devil!”

You follow Fred’s gaze and spot George at the end of it, shouldering past people before dropping down beside you.

“Hey!” he grins, reaching across to fist bump you, and you pound fists, laughing as George makes exploding sound effects,

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing here with these two imbeciles?” George grins, ignoring the way Fred groans and Ron opens his mouth in silent protest.

“It’s not by choice,” you quip, teasingly smirking at Fred.

“It never is,” George sighs, then leans in close to whisper in your ear, “I suggest you run for it while you still can. By the way, I saved you a couple of bags of treats,”

George tosses a bag of treats at Ron’s head and it bounces off his forehead, tumbling to the ground.

“Oi!” Ron snaps, disgruntled, as you, Fred and George laugh at his expression. George drops a bag into your lap and you thank him with a flash of a smile, fiddling with the string that ties it together.

“Where’s Hermione?” George asks, scanning his surroundings for her.

“She’s with Harry,” you murmur, leaning forward, “I’m going to go see him afterwards.”

Ron shifts awkwardly in his seat, no doubt uncomfortable with the reminder of his continuous fight with Harry. Fred claps a hand on his knee and springs to his feet, thinking quickly.

“I’m going to find Lee and you’re coming with me, Ron,” Fred orders, dragging Ron out of his seat. Ron glances back at you, bewildered and perplexed, and you give him a helpless shrug and an apologetic look.

George slides closer to your side and drapes an arm across your shoulders.

“You alright?” George asks, surveying you with a touch of concern, “You’re looking a little...”

“I look a little what?” You ask, expectantly, almost daring George to finish his sentence.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, “But all I’m saying, is that - if you’re feeling nervous - don’t be. I’m sure Harry is quite capable, it’s what he volunteered for after all...”

“No, he didn’t,” you snip, firmly.

"You still believe that he didn't put his name in the Goblet himself, huh?"

“Merlin what is with you boys,” you snap, angrily, “First Ron, then Cedric, now you...”

George shrugs, “Well, how did his name get in there?”

You sigh. There’s something about saying the question out loud that makes it infinitely more difficult to answer, “I don’t know, George. I just know Harry wasn’t the one who put it in there...”

George studies you for a moment, eyes sweeping over every detail on your face, and you resist the urge to squirm under his intense scrutiny. He seems to be hesitating, biting his tongue in a way you had never seen the twins to do before.

“What is it with you and Harry?” George asks, rather bluntly.

You flush, cheeks warming uncomfortably, “Nothing...”

“Oh, because of whatever’s going on between you and Cedric?”

“Maybe...”

George nods, smirk strained at the edges, like he’s trying to tack it over his lips to hide all the words he’s struggling to say.

“You know, I’m happy for you. Cedric’s a great guy...”

You tug on your bottom lip bashfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His name has such a profound effect on you like it’s a charm designed to bewitch your heart and fill your chest with millions of butterflies.

“He is...” You breathe, smiling broadly as you reflect on the morning you had spent with him.

“Yeah...almost too good, if you know what I mean...”

You turn to George, brows knitted in confusion as you stare at him, “What’s that supposed to-?”

Click

The sound of a camera capturing the moment in a photograph rings in the air surrounding you and George, drawing your attention away from his peculiar comment to Noah Underwood, who had just snapped the unexpected photo. You shoot him a glare and he shrugs, impassively.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “It looked interesting. Don’t mind if I use it for the paper? Everyone will probably love to see a picture of their famous writer in the school newsletter.”

You shrug nonchalantly and George flashes a wicked grin.

“Sure,” George grins, “Do you want an actual photo of us posing?”

Noah gives a small shrug, watching as George angles himself toward the camera and draws an excitable expression across his face. You rearrange your face into a friendly smile, forcing yourself to relax. Noah’s camera flashes again once, twice, thrice, before he lowers the device and gives a firm nod. You frown at Noah, noticing the name scribbled into the side of the camera.

“So...you found your camera?” You ask, and Noah glances up at you before returning his gaze to his camera.

“Nah, this is just another one I bought last year,” Noah murmurs, not bothering to look up as he fiddles with his camera.

“Oh,” You bleat, “ By the way, Noah, this is my friend, George. George, this is Noah.”

Noah’s sharp, black eyes flick to George, gaze sweeping up and down as though assessing him, before turning back to you, “I know who he is.”

“See, (Y/N), I’m already so famous, I don’t even need an introduction,” George jokes, lips splitting and curling into a teasing grin. Noah rolls his eyes.

“Well, see you around,” Noah mutters, his eyes holding yours for a brief moment before flitting to George one last time. He scowls and sighs, striding away with fluid, easy movements.

“That kid is strange,” George murmurs in an undertone, watching Noah’s retreating form as he shrinks into the crowd.

Hermione arrives moments later, hurrying towards you with a look of concern and urgency. She drops beside you, utters a mumbled greeting to George, and leans in close to you.

“Harry’s ready to see you whenever you are,” she whispers, glancing at George, and you nod, sliding yourself out of George’s arm and heading off toward the tent.

As you approach it, Bagman’s voice booms through the air, echoing across the make-shift stadium as he addresses the crowd. As you pass several people, you spot Cedric looking more worried than excited, a slightly green tinge to his usually perfect complexion. You catch his eye and flash him your warmest, most genuine smile and Cedric visibly relaxes, fighting his own feelings of anxiety by flashing you a boyish smile, tight-lipped from nerves. He’s whisked away before you can even approach him, and, moments later, the roar of the crowd tears through the air as Cedric makes his appearance.

Finally, you arrive at the tent and slip past the folds, beaming when you spot Harry in the far corner.

“(Y/N)!” Harry practically sings, striding toward you. Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum barely pay you any mind as you throw your arms around Harry, squeezing him tight in what you hope is a comforting hug. You sigh his name against his ear, burying your head in the crook of his neck as he holds you close, “Merlin, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I’d always be here for you this morning,” you murmur, untangling yourself from his arms.

Harry gives a half-hearted smile, though it looks dim compared to the radiant smiles his lips usually pull into.

“Can you - I mean - I was wondering if you could stay with me until...” Harry breaks off, glancing shyly at his feet.

“Of course, Harry,” you smile gently at your best friend, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Always. Remember?”

Harry nods and leads you toward a cot he had been sitting on. The two of you sit in tense silence, listening to the crowd clap and cheer and Bagman’s commentary. Harry’s stoic expression remained somewhat calm, despite the challenges that lay ahead of him today, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how composed he seems, compared to your constant cycle of worry.

Harry was always good at putting on a brave face. He had done so whenever the four of you embarked on your adventures, always the first to lead the way. Nobility and chivalry were two of the many defining characters that Harry had, but his Gryffindor courage was perhaps his most commendable.

Still, you can’t stop yourself as you reach forward with a trembling hand and grasp his hand, squeezing it tightly as you listen to Cedric, then Fleur, then Viktor fights their dragons. And when the whistle sounds and the crowds fall silent in anticipation, you find that your muscles don’t want to let go.

Harry reluctantly breaks away from you, though your hand still latches onto his. As he moves to pull away, you give one last desperate tug, gazing up at him fearfully.

“Please, Harry, please be careful.”

Harry nods solemnly, green eyes wide with fear, and before you know it you’re flinging yourself into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck, paving a path through his dishevelled, black hair with your fingertips, clinging to him like you don’t want to let go. He holds you as though you were anchoring him, afraid to plunge into the depths of his own uncertainty and fear, and you want to stay like this forever and ever, wrapped in each other as you stand on the brink of uncharted territory, but then you remember yourself and you untangle yourself from his arms, pulling away.

And as Harry leaves the tent, you can’t help but feel like he’s carrying your bounding heart with him.

***

Your best friend and your sort-of boyfriend tie in the first task of the Tournament, and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

Honestly, it’s more relief than it is excitement; it only took a fight with a Dragon for Ron to see reason and apologise to Harry, thus ending their feud and reuniting the ‘Golden Quartet’, as the four of you are so commonly called. Just knowing that the four of you are no longer divided is enough to leave you grinning goofily and floating on air as you make your way toward the Gryffindor common room, Ron’s arm draped lazily across your shoulder.

“Honest to Merlin, if you two fight again, I’m smashing your thick heads together!” you say on your way back from the Owlery, earning a snort from Harry and a laugh from Ron, “Seriously, guys, don’t ever put me through that again or I might just break down and have a premature mid-life crisis. The three of you have already put me through enough with your little secret conversations!”

The air shifts into hesitation and awkwardness, and for a moment, you think you may have rained on their victory parade. The feeling leaves you, though, when the four of you enter the common room and greeted with boisterous cheers that are so loud, they nearly blow you over.

The common room has been decorated with banners (drawn by Dean Thomas, you recognize the art style). The food table is filled with cakes and sweets, the air shimmers with fireworks set off by Lee Jordan, a dance floor has been set up in the middle of the room, and the atmosphere hums with indisputable excitement at Harry’s victory.

“I’m going to get us some drinks,” Hermione shouts over the crowd and heads toward the drink stand.

“And we’re going to dance,” you exclaim, grinning broadly as you snatch the golden egg from Harry and hand it to Lee, who nearly buckles beneath it’s weight. Pushing through the crowd of people swarming toward Harry, you drag Harry and Ron toward the dance floor.

Harry pauses on the outskirts of the dance floor, hesitant, “(Y/N)…”

You roll your eyes at Harry, “Harry, you just fought a fucking dragon. I think you deserve this…”

Harry glances around sheepishly, but Ron playfully shoves him toward you and he stumbles onto the dance floor.

Music floods the room, soaking into your skin and gushing through your veins. You can feel it fill every cell in your body, controlling your movements as you laugh and swing your hips to the rhythm. Ron bops along, cracking jokes at your lack of coordination, and you roll your eyes at him.

“And what exactly are you doing, Ron? The Oompa Loompa dance?”

Ron’s brows knit together in confusion at your reference.

“Hermione never told you about Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?” you ask, and Ron shakes his head, “Never mind. It was a muggle movie based on a book.”

Hermione finds you on the dance floor, holding two cups of butterbeer while another two cups float beside her. She hands them out to the three of you, and you all take a swig.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to be over there–”

“Oh, no,” you say, grinning devilishly, “You’re dancing with us, Hermione Granger.”

“No I’m not!” Hermione says, swiftly.

“Yes, you are,” you insist, firmly, “We’re dancing together, and we’re not arguing about this a moment longer.”

Hermione scowls, but her expression melts away when Ron takes her hand and yanks her into the circle.

“No point arguing with her,” Ron says over the music, “Just have some fun, Hermione! We’re celebrating Harry’s victory!”

Hermione’s cheeks flush pink as she sighs, her posture relaxing as she hesitantly begins to dance. Soon enough, she begins to lose herself in the music, and the four of you dance in a circle, laughing while the world revolves around you.

It hardly feels like the past few months have happened as you as the four of you dance away the stress and anxiety that had perched on your shoulders like a menacing demon. Normalcy settles in, tearing through the tension pounding against your ribs. You want to bottle these moments and smear them on your wrists like a fine perfume.

You glance at Harry and find his eyes already on you, drinking you in like fire whiskey. Beaming and intoxicated on liquid adrenaline, he resembles the same Harry you had sat across from in Fred and George’s treehouse in the summer holidays. Bold and brilliant and beautiful, relaxed and gazing at you as though you were the only star in his midnight sky.

You dance toward him, leaning into him, and wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as the two of you clumsily waltz together. You breathe him in, registering the scent of smoke and butterbeer and life, a kind of fragrance that not even the richest of wizards could afford, because it’s Harry and he’s here, in your arms, his hands resting on your waist, wrapping around you and holding you like he’s afraid you might fade to dust…

“I love you, (Y/N),” he murmurs into your hair, like a secret made just for you, the words tingling in your ears and kissing the scars on your heart, “I always have, and I always will.”

You pull away from him, tears welling in your eyes, to find Harry smiling warmly at you. His lips are pulled into a smile worth more than any diamond necklace, more than all the stars strung together in the sky.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, “You’ll always be my best friend…always.”

Harry’s smile falters a bit, trembling at the corners, but then it fills out again graciously, “I know.”

The two of you sway to the rhythm, letting it wash over you like a wave as you cling to Harry and Harry welcomes you into his embrace. Neither of you moves with any precise movement, you just allow the music to sweep you away, like leaves in a breeze, following the beat and allowing it to pulse through you, puppeteer your movements, your mind drifting away from you like clouds as your body moves on its own accord.

Nothing has ever felt so natural before, so reassuring in a way that cannot be translated into words. Harry seems to realise this, too, as every now and then he squeezes your waist as though to remind himself that you’re in his arms, not someone else's, and if you weren’t so relieved, you would have thought that was odd. Instead, you allow yourself to be carried away with the moment, collecting every minute of it like seeds and scattering it in the meadow inside your ribcage.

You know it won’t last forever. Harry is going to have to break away at some point, and he will have to talk with the other Gryffindors, listen to them congratulate him on his victory, and ask about that egg. But perhaps that’s the beauty of it. Perhaps that’s why it makes moments like these so precious; because they don’t last forever, so you have to cling to them while you can.

With this in mind, you push away the secrets that had been building up between the two of you, the strange conversations with Ron and Hermione and the odd looks that Harry had occasionally cast your way. Instead, you focus on this single moment in time, this one that you may never get back, and you hug him, hold him tighter, keeping him trapped in your arms like a bird in a cage, like your bounding heart locked away in your chest.

In Harry’s arms, you dance the night away, oblivious to the pair of ancient eyes watching your every move.

@marauderskeeper @weaselby418 @acciorinn @hervench@theseusscamandcr @depressed-octopods-art @steph-fowlie @lilulo-12 @randomfangirl17 @seunlight @thebesteleganttrashyouseen @elsie2018 @polkadotfairyposts @hylianhighlander @dracosdoves @siriuswitches @bernadineisreborn @lousimusician @randomoutsiders @smolldork @danidomm @xrosegoldwolfx @ashkuuuu @sly-vixen-up2nogood @reimiwritrs @tchalland @lucifersnipnips @notorious-fiction @peppermintspecks @sleep-i-ness

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cordonianchoicesqueen · 5 years

Text

Rewritten: The Royal Romance: Forgotten Falls (Part 20)

A/N: I know it has gotten a little old me apologising for taking so long to get this part out! I just don’t want writing to become a chore for me and to make sure I’m happy before I release each one - I think I came back to this part more than any other to tweak and change.

Summary: Riley and Liam sneak off to Forgotten Falls to spend some time together away from the rest of the world.

Choices Chapter: Book One, Chapter Ten, Diamonds Scene

Disclaimer: Characters and main storyline from Pixelberry’s Choices.

Word Count: 2200+

Warnings: NSFW smuttiness but still pretty tame

Link to Full Series: Rewritten

Tags: @krsnlove @cora-nova @hopefulmoonobject

Forgotten Falls

I took Liam’s hand and he led me through the partying crowd. Still barefoot, the sand was hot on my feet until we reached an area of trees and soft grass. We slipped into the brush, giggling. We both knew we would be in trouble – there would probably be a scandal – if we were seen running away from the event together. There was nothing I could do though. Liam had cast a spell on me and all I wanted, when he looked back at me with his gorgeous, sparkling, curious eyes, was him. After a short climb, we arrived at Forgotten Falls, a cove with a beautiful waterfall cascading into a glistening pool. I let go of his hand and stepped further into the clearing, dazzled by the natural beauty. The soft grass and warm sand found its way in between my toes as I smelt a mixture of floral tones float through the air. It looked as though it was part of a fairy-tale.

“Do you like it?” Liam said behind me. I could hear his smile in his words. I didn’t know what I had done over the past few weeks to capture his heart but I knew exactly what he had done to capture mine. He was attentive and curious about who I was. He was one of the most attractive people I had ever laid eyes on and the way his hand felt in mine was perfect. He was intelligent, witty and dignified. He understood responsibility. We were connected through loss of parents. We understood each other and could almost speak to each other without talking. There was no doubt in my mind that I was falling in love in the most magical way. “It’s…” I sighed and then urged. “So romantic that you need to kiss me right now.” I turned as he said, “If the lady insists…” I loved when he referred to me like that. Liam wrapped his arms around me, one hand on my lower back and one in my hair. He lent in to kiss me and I met his lips with earnest. His lips were smooth and tasted of champagne. He pulled back, resting his forehead on mine, “there’s a legend about how this waterfall came to be. It’s said that hundreds of years ago, there were two lovers from warring clans. They were forbidden from being together, but they would meet here, at this hidden cove, and make plans to run away together. When the day came for them to leave, they vowed to meet here at dawn. When dawn came, the woman waited and waited, but her lover never appeared. They said that he was caught by her people and killed... But she never had the heart to leave this spot. So, she knelt on the cliffs and wept, and her tears became the waterfall, until that’s all that was left of her.” We held hands as I softly whispered, “that’s a sad story.” “Tell me, Riley, what would you have done if you were the woman in the story?” he asked. “I would’ve gotten revenge! Believe me, it would’ve gone a little differently than just a bunch of weeping,” I narrowed my eyes at him. He laughed, tucking me under his arm as we looked at the falls, “I certainly wouldn’t want to be on your bad side… There’s one silver lining to this story…” “Oh?” I replied, enjoying how well our bodies fit together. “It’s said that if two lovers climb to the top of the waterfall and jump in together, they’ll get the blessing of the lady of the waterfall,” he explained. “Is this your way of telling me, you think we should be lovers?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think… I mean, I wasn’t trying to…” Liam flustered. I giggled, “So… you don’t ever think about it then?” “I didn’t say that,” he bit his lip. “I’m only human, Riley. Besides would it be presumptuous of me to guess you’ve had similar thoughts?” As I opened my mouth to tease him, Liam took off his shirt and dropped it on the ground beside him and I was thrown completely off guard. His body was phenomenal. How on earth did a prince have enough time to work out to have a body like that. “I… er…” flustered now myself, “I have had thoughts.” He laughed at my gaping jaw, “Are you ready?... You seem to be lacking a swimsuit… This is a very secluded place. Would you be scandalized if I proposed an alternative?” I shook my head smiling, “Way ahead of you.” I pulled off my shirt and shimmied out of my jeans, revealing myself to him in my lacy, blue underwear. It made me excited to see the desire in his eyes as he looked at me. “Much better,” I said, stretching. “I couldn’t agree more,” he breathed. “Now, we climb!” “Up the cliff face?” I asked, bemused. “There’s not exactly an elevator way out here. Are you up for it?” he challenged. I looked at the waterfall. My fear of heights had always held me back from so much. I had overcome it to go skiing and I would overcome it now. For Liam. I tried to think back to summer camps when we had climbed through rivers and let that calm me. “Race you to the top!” I yelled as I bolted towards the falls. The side of the cliff was alive with an array of different grasses. I grabbed a handful of vines and began finding footholds in the rock face. I breathed through my fear. “Hey wait up!” Liam called, catching up to me. “If you want me, you’ve got to catch me,” I teased through gritted teeth. I checked each foothold before placing my full weight and tested the vines. I confidently pulled myself up, feeling my muscles ache. As I reached the top, I breathed out heavily in triumph. Raising my arms in success, Liam tackled me from behind. We rolled to the ground, over and over until he ended up on top of me, pinning me down. As I looked into his eyes I flashed back to us in a similar position in the palace hedge maze on my first night in Cordonia. I had come so far since then and so had my connection with the man whose body pressed me down into the soft fauna. He still treated me delicately but not as though I was going to break to the softest touch. He was finding out just how strong I was. “Got you,” he whispered in my ear, out of breath. “I still won the race,” I giggled. “I’ll gladly admit defeat to you, Riley Brooks,” he said, brushing some leaves out of my hair. I wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled him to me, kissing him passionately. As my eyes closed I felt his body mould to mine, his teeth gently biting my lower lip. After a moment, Liam pulled away, again. Standing, he extended his hand to me. It didn’t matter how many times he offered me his hand, I would always accept it. “Ready to jump?” he asked. I peered over the edge of the waterfall and backed up. My heart felt like it was going to rip out of my chest. Fear seized me as I realised just how high I was from this angle. I thought back to a party I went to as a kid where we were expected to do an aerial assault course. I was fine whilst we geared up and went through the safety briefing. It was only when I stood at the edge that I began crying. “I didn’t realise how high up we are,” I said, feeling my eyes brim with fear. “It’s better if you don’t think about it,” Liam encouraged me. “Hold my hand.” His hand reached for me, hanging in the air between us. I didn’t know if I could do this. My heart thudded. I could feel every irrational fear in my body bubbling up into my throat. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, let this defeat me. I closed my eyes and slipped my hand into his. “I think some would call this a leap of faith,” Liam smiled. “On three?” On one, I slowed my breathing. I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds around me. The water tumbling down, a bird singing in the distance, the breeze in the trees. Two. I became aware of my body and how tight it felt. I breathed out, releasing the tension and tightening my grip on Liam’s hand. When he reached three, I propelled myself forward with him. Exhilaration filled me as we fell through the air, wind whipping my hair around my face. I held my breath just as we hit the cool, clear water. Our weight made us plummet like rocks to the bottom of the pool. We kicked off the bed, feeling seaweed twist around our ankles. Together we burst back into the light. “That was…” Liam started. “Amazing,” I surprised myself. We tread water in place for a moment, enjoying floating in the refreshing pool. I felt cleansed of worry and fear. Here, the rest of the world didn’t exist. Here, the world was mine. I could do anything! “Thank you,” Liam said. “For what?” I asked, still dazed. “For coming here with me. For actually getting to know me. For… For caring about me, Riley. I’ve never had anyone in my life like you. And now that I have you… I never want to lose you,” he smiled, nervously at me. My heart felt like it could explode again but for very different reasons. He wasn’t going to admit it now but he was in love with me. I could tell by his eyes. In that moment, I was his world. And he was mine. I wrapped my legs around him, my hands on his chest. I lent my forehead against his and he kissed me deeply. His hands ran down my back, his finger’s digging into my skin, never wanting to let go. I tugged at his hair and felt his tongue dip into my mouth, filling me. “Oh, Riley,” he groaned. “You can’t say all those romantic things to me and not expect to get kissed,” I giggled. “Fair enough,” he said as we swam closer to the edge of the pool where we could stand. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it… It’s just…” “Just what?” I frowned. “I don’t know what’s going to happen… but the last thing I’d want is for you to get hurt,” he sighed. I rolled my eyes, fed up of hearing this, “I’m the kind of girl who can take care of herself. I would’ve thought you’d know that by now…” “You’re right. I’m usually a quicker study, I promise,” he half smiled, not truly trusting my words. “It’s just… I care about you… More than you know… and definitely more than I should.” He looked down at me, taking my hand in his, gazing at me. I felt my heart beat start to race, I wanted to know him, every part of him. “Riley…” he breathed. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he tired. We shared a heated kiss that could never have been enough. His hands wrapped around my ass, lifting me up onto him. My legs wrapped around him as he raised me out of the pool and lowered me down onto the sand. His body flush with mine, he trailed kisses down my neck and bit my ear. It felt like he was everywhere at once, making me feel breathless. My hands trailed along his back. I could feel him getting hard against me, which only made me more excited. I breathed his name which caused him to let out a soft growl. Still dripping wet from the pool, he wrapped his hands through my hair as he kissed my lips, his tongue deep inside my mouth. His weight felt marvellous on top of me. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to feel him. I ran a finger along the edge of his shorts causing his to shiver. For a moment, he looked at me, his dark eyes full of desire. “We haven’t know each other very long, but every moment I spend with you, I can’t help but feel… Riley I think… I’m in lo—“ Liam was stopped suddenly as movement exploded from the bushes. Startled, we rolled apart and spotted a bird shoot off as a fox chased. Breathing heavily, we laughed, tension released between us. “You were saying?” I said, holding myself up on my elbows. “Never mind… It was nothing,” he shook his head. As if the last few minutes hadn’t happened, he stood up and brushed the sand from his body. His eyes, which moments ago were entranced were now filled with regret. A sadness encased my heart. “I suppose we should head back…” Liam said, turning away. I knew he was angry at himself for giving in to what he wanted. He was meant to put everyone before himself and choosing me was not the selfless thing. It was hard, though, not to let it get to me… to make me think he regretted time we spent together. “Yeah. We’ve been gone long enough that people will be starting to look for us- you,” I corrected myself. “No matter how much time we have together, Riley, it’s just never enough is it,” Liam sadly smiled as we redressed. “Not by a long shot,” I elbowed him teasingly. We, without speaking, naturally took one another hands and head back down to the beach party.

#rewritten #the royal romance #cordonia #cordonianchoicesqueen #choices #choices app #playchoices #choices fandom #prince liam #Riley Brooks #forgotten falls

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fivescuddles-blog · 6 years

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can't help falling in love with you | finn wolfhard

requested: "Can you do a Finn Wolfhard x reader and the reader is really cocky, sarcastic and witty? With the song I can’t help but fall in love with you?" - @parisgirl8009

summary: y/n and the gang hang out and finn ends up expressing some feelings!

warnings: i don't think there's any tbh

characters: finn wolfhard, y/n, gaten matarazzo, millie bobby brown, sadie sink, caleb mclaughlin

"Dude, calm down! It's only Y/N." Gaten reminded Finn, exasperatedly.

Finn looked at him with a delirious expression, placing his hands on his shoulders and shaking him hard. "Yeah! Exactly!"

Caleb shook his head and pried Finn's hands off of Gaten. "We hang out with her all he time. What makes this time different?"

Sighing, Finn dragged his fingers through his long curls and looked at the floor. "It's hard to explain.."

There were footsteps heard and Finn leapt to his feet, striking a 'casual' pose and staring at the door.

Millie entered, followed by Sadie, but both stopped dead once they realised everyone was staring at them.

"...what?"

"Oh, it's just you two." Finn let out a sigh of relief and continued pacing within the large room.

Millie smirked and pulled his cheek. "Thought it was Y/N, huh Finnie?"

Slapping his hand away, he glared at her. "Don't call me that! Jeez-"

A knock was heard at the door. Millie and Finn looked at each other before racing to the door, Finn trying desperately to get there first and Millie simply humouring him.

He flung open he door, causing the Y/H/C haired girl to jump, startled.

"Wow, Finn! That excited to see me?" You joked, winking at him, this causing a bright red blush to appear at his cheeks.

"Tch, um, no!" He stuttered out, cursing his blush.

You laughed and walked past him through the open door, leaving him at the doorframe dazed. He shook his head, regaining his senses and closing the door behind him.

Meanwhile, you had already struck up a conversation with Gaten and Caleb.

"Yeah, sorry I'm late, I just didn't want to come." You joked, causing Sadie to push you playfully as you all laughed.

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

Finn walked over and stood next to you as you laughed, taking in the moment. He looked at your face, noticing the the way your mouth looked when you smiled, and how your cheeks bunched up as you laughed.

And he laughed as well.

But I can't help falling in love with you

After you'd all settled down, you collectively decided to watch a movie. Browsing through your options, it seemed that High School Musical was definitely the best choice.

Millie and Sadie made a point of taking the first two seater, cuddling up together in the blankets and giggling as Gaten and Caleb took the two armchairs.

Leaving the last two seater for you and Finn.

Glaring at your friends, you pulled Finn by his hand and sat down onto the sofa, pulling the blankets right up to your chins and watching as Caleb pressed play to begin the movie.

Halfway through the film, you were utterly engrossed in the action, your eyes following Troy and Gabriella intently.

However, the same was not to be said for Finn.

He was looking at something just as captivating. Just as amazing and magical.

You.

Though he'd quickly spin his head in the direction of the television if he noticed anyone catching him, his long black curls bouncing with the speed.

Soon, the film ended and there was a chorus of groans and stretches as everyone began to stand and move from the postions they'd been holding for about an hour and a half.

The fluffy blanket tumbled to the ground off of your lap as you extended your legs forward.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Gaten's voice cut through the air.

"Well guys, I think I'd better get going."

Caleb nodded. "Well, you're my lift so I guess I should too then. "

Gaten chuckled to himself and threw his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave.

"Well, it's been nice knowing you guys! Au revoir!" You waved dramatically, wiping a non-existent tear away from your left cheek as they left for the door, giggling to themselves as they went.

Sadie suddenly chipped in. "Actually, I've gotta go too. Millie, you can stay the night at mine if you want? Your hotel's pretty near mine."

Millie nodded, shooting you a sly grin.

"Woah woah, wait. You guys are abandoning me too? With him?" You gasped, exasperatedly, pointing at Finn in despair.

They both giggled at Finn's offended face and rolled their eyes at you.

"Yes, Y/N. What a tragedy!" Millie laughed, before grabbing Sadie's wrist and pulling her out the door. "See ya, guys!"

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

Silence.

It was just you and Finn now.

There was a comfortable pause before anyone said anything.

"Soooo... wanna play some Mario Cart?" You asked, grinning at him widely.

He smirked at you. "Only if you promise not lose awfully every time. It gets boring winning every one."

"Challenge accepted."

A coupe of hours later and you two were still laying Mario Cart, it getting extremely competitive between the tow of you.

Every so often, Finn would glance at you admirably, watching the intense look of concentration on your face.

"Ha! I win!" You cried as you skid over the finish line just an inch before Finn.

"Dammit!"

You stood up and did an idiotic little victory dance, causing Finn to let out a short laugh. "Alright, alright. Don't get too cocky here." He grinned at you.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Suddenly, you slipped. You felt your legs give beneath you and the sensation of hurtling towards the floor.

Ouch.

You let out a cry of pain as your left hand flew to your right arm as the arm exploded in agony. Finn leapt up, a worried expression on his face, and bounded over to you, desperately trying to help you up.

Take my hand,

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help falling in love with you

Pulling you up gently, he checked your arm for injuries and bruises before sighing in relief.

"Okay, it doesn't look like it's anything major."

"It may not look it but it bloody well feels it!"

A laugh made itself out of Finn's mouth as he caught sight of your indignant expression.

"God, I love you."

There was a pause as Finn realised what he had just said.

It slipped out. It was an accident. He wasn't meant to say that. Worries invaded his thoughts as a dark blush settled itself on his pale cheeks.

"...love you too, Finnie."

He looked up to see you smiling at him happily. Leaning up on your tip toes, you placed a delicate kiss on his cheeks and pulled him into a tight embrace.

For I can't help falling in love with you

#idk this was kinda shit lmao #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard imagines #finn wolfhard x reader #mileven #byeler #byler #millie bobby brown #gaten matarazzo #caleb mclaughlin #sadie sink #stranger things #stranger things cast #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler #richie tozier #my post

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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

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You Can’t Cross the Same River Twice - Chapter 8

Trapper and Hawkeye do end up going out for drinks with Winchester again. And as funny as it would have been to take him to some shitty dive - to watch him squirm uncomfortably, surrounded by mill workers and longshoremen who hold him as deep in contempt as he holds them - Trapper doesn't do it. Winchester is Hawkeye's friend, and that means something. Plus, he gets to have the moral high ground by taking Winchester somewhere decent. So they go to the nice little neighborhood bar he and Hawkeye frequent. And Hawkeye even manages to finagle the use of the private back room somehow.

So they tell stories and talk shop and joke around. Winchester has a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that meshes well with Trapper's own - when it's not being turned against "the unwashed masses," that is. But they have a nice time mocking the various stuffed shirts on the hospital board. And Hawkeye's heard from BJ and Margaret and shares funny stories of how they're settling in to life stateside. All in all, it's an enjoyable time. Trapper'd do it again.

And then Hawkeye breaks out the deck of cards. The poker game is a friendly one - they're literally playing for peanuts - but it still manages to be cutthroat. Winchester isn't one to back down from a challenge - perceived or real - so he's easy to goad. And Trapper and Hawkeye have known each other for forever, it feels like. They know how to read one another. And they've run a table before, back when Henry Blake was skint and offering twenty-four hour passes as collateral. They'd had a very nice weekend in Seoul off the back of that game. So they run Winchester into the ground. But he's a good sport about it - well, if angry promises of retribution can be called being a good sport. He's at least still talking to them afterwards.

It becomes kinda a regular thing, the poker game. The bar's happy enough to let them use the room every other Thursday - even though Trapper's not a heavy drinker anymore and Hawkeye's still sticking to Shirley Temples. Trapper wonders what exactly Hawkeye promised in exchange. But he's not missing any family heirlooms or internal organs, so it's probably fine. At least Winchester has come around on the merits of Irish whiskey and he ups their tab significantly with top shelf hooch.

Other players get slowly added to the game. Trapper invites Dr. Westham, who'd been stationed in Tokyo before Winchester's time but they still know - and despise - a lot of the same people. Hawkeye brings along Nurse Freeman from the clinic and she has the poker face of an Egyptian statue and the card counting skills of a mob professional. And she'd been at a field hospital at the tail end of WWII so she has her own stories of the Pacific theater. In all honesty, it's a little like being back in the Swamp at one of their weekly "medical conferences." Although now they're playing to remember the war - or parts of it, anyway - instead of to forget it.

Still, it seems natural to walk in one evening and see Sidney Freedman sitting there at the table. Trapper half expects Sam Pak to pop out from somewhere.

Hawkeye's following close behind and Trapper hears his breath catch on seeing Sidney. But when he exclaims, "Sidney! What are you doing here?" he sounds joyous, not anxious.

"Hello, boys." Sidney gets up and they shake hands warmly. "Dr. Winchester has stayed in touch and when he mentioned your little bi-weekly poker game, I figured I'd take a vacation."

Hawkeye's surprised it was Charles who stayed in touch with Sidney. He was very clear in his disdain for psychiatrists. But mostly, Hawkeye's just glad Sidney's not here for him. Because sure, he's still messed up by everything he went through. They all are or they never would have formed this little card club - this place where they can talk about what they'd seen and done during the war - talk and be understood. But he's not lost the way he was at the end of the war. He's found a purpose and a life and a self. A new balance of normalcy. But he doesn't want to think about all that right now. Like Sidney, he's just here for a poker game.

And the game is fun, the banter witty. Even though Hawkeye can practically see Sidney whip out a mental notepad when he mentions the clinic or child patients or anything that brushes close to his previous trauma. But he's been friends with Sidney for a long time and knows that's just who he is. He can no more turn off his assessment of the psychological than Hawkeye can his assessment of the medical. So when the game winds down and after a brief, nonverbal conversation with Trapper - one that Sidney also makes mental notes about - Hawkeye invites him to stay over at their house instead of finding a motel or taking a very late train back to New York. And Sidney accepts.

Hawkeye's pretty sure Sidney had Trapper and him figured out way back in Korea. And he never said anything then, so Hawkeye's not too wary about directing him to the guest room while he and Trapper get ready for bed pretty much as normal. They do maybe tone down the kissing a little. Just a little, though. All Sidney does is smile an enigmatic smile and wish them good night.

Sidney's still at the house when Trapper comes home from work. And they'd told him to make himself at home. So he just asks Sidney if he's ok with lamb and green beans and baked potatoes for dinner - and if there's anything he can do to make things a little closer to Kosher.

"I made it through three years of army food," Sidney replies, deadpan. "I'm sure whatever you make will be fine."

"I don't know if I should be insulted or not," Trapper jokes.

"Insulted. Always." Hawkeye must have caught the tail end of their conversation there, coming through the front door. "Sidney's like Father Mulcahy. Behind that innocent face is enough snark to level a city."

Hawkeye's clearly in a cheerful mood.

"Good day at the office, dear?" Trapper asks.

"Yep! It was just a lot of preventative stuff, routine checkups. I think the biggest injury I saw all day was the paper cut I got filling out order forms. You?"

Trapper shrugs into the beans he's washing. "Couple broken bones and an exploded spleen. Plus the usual bellyaching from Dobbs. How bout you, Sidney? I came home and the living room had been re-carpeted in your notes."

Sidney sighs. "I haven't been completely honest with you two. I've been asked to write a paper on my methods of treating battle fatigue at the front during the Korean war."

"Hence your trip to our little 4077 outpost." Hawkeye's expression has closed off.

"A working vacation." Trapper's own tone is caustic.

"I'm not here to make notes on any of you," Sidney is quick to reassure. "But I think it will be. Helpful. To my own mental state to be back among you all. The 4077 was always how I gauged my own sanity. And writing about Korea has brought those days back in a way I didn't quite expect."

Trapper looks to Hawkeye for direction. He'll remove Sidney bodily from their home if Hawk wants. Hawkeye looks back, gaze level, and they come to a consensus.

"Well, I can't claim that either of us are any saner than we were in Korea, but you're welcome to stay for a while. And if you have any questions for me, you can just ask." Hawkeye gives a wry smile. "I can't guarantee I'll have any answers, though."

They all relax a little.

"Thank you. Both for letting me stay in your home and for offering to let me take a peek under the hood. But for now, is there anything I can do to help with dinner?"

So the rest of the evening passes and they don't talk about anything more serious than the world series.

Hawkeye had been. Cautious. About having Sidney stay for longer than a night. But he's a considerate house guest. Helpful around the house and not a stifling presence. He even spends an evening with Charles so that Hawkeye and Trapper can have some time to themselves - and his sacrifice is very appreciated. But Hawkeye's been holding his breath, waiting for Sidney to start in on the surely lengthy list of questions he's saved up. So he's not surprised when Sidney sits down across from him at the kitchen table and asks if they can talk.

He is surprised when Sidney opens with, "So what do you remember about Steve Newsome?"

"Uh," Hawkeye has to think a bit. "He was a good surgeon. He'd been in some of the really heavy stuff early on but ended up transferred to Tokyo. The 4077 called him up as a temporary replacement and he was great in OR the first shift. But somewhere in the second batch of wounded, he just... got lost. Couldn't make a decision on whether to amputate or not. And then he just. Walked out of the operating room. BJ and I tracked him down and he was just sitting there on the ground. Face blank. And when we got him to talk, he just kept saying he couldn't get the blood off his hands. His clean hands. That's when Potter had you called in. Also, I think he was from Chicago."

Sidney's taking notes in a real, actual notebook so hopefully something in the little Hawkeye remembers is helpful.

"Do you know what triggered his difficulties in OR? Something about the patient?"

Hawkeye struggles to remember. "No, I don't think so. He wasn't like me where it was one single thing that reminded him of another single thing. I think he just. It was too much. Everything he'd seen and done in the past was layered over everything he was seeing and doing in our OR. He couldn't stand up under that weight." It makes Hawkeye wonder what would happen to any of them if they got shoved into another MASH in another, future war. He hopes they'll never have to find out.

Sidney nods and makes more notes.

"Can I ask why you're asking me about Newsome? Didn't you treat him in Tokyo?" Surely Sidney knows more about the man than anyone from the 4077.

Sidney sighs. "While I was the one to come collect him and I did an initial intake interview, he was moved to another psychiatrist for treatment. My caseload was too heavy to spend much time thinking about him. But now that the war is over and I've been asked to provide this paper, I find myself wanting to tie up loose ends." He pauses. "Unfortunately, there's as much infighting and posturing in psychiatry as there is in surgery. The doctor who treated Steve Newsome feels he's been spurned by the American Psychiatric Association and so refuses to offer any assistance."

Hawkeye groans. "Why even go into medicine if you care more about your ego than your patients?"

Sidney laughs. "Why indeed? Sadly, psychiatry can tell us nothing other than sometimes, people are assholes."

Sidney Freedman departs for Chicago a few days later. And Hawkeye is slightly surprised that he's sad to see him go. He'd had mixed feelings about the man after his stint in the Tokyo funny farm. But it seems like they'll be able to be friends again as civilians.

So Hawkeye supplements his handshake with a genuine, "Hope to see you again soon, Sidney."

And Trapper adds, "Yeah, you're always welcome at the poker game - as long as you keep losing." His grin is teasing, protective edge gone along with Hawkeye's reservations.

"Thanks, boys. I'll be in touch."

With a jaunty wave, Sidney boards the greyhound - headed for Chicago, Steve Newsome, and parts unknown.

#mash #piercintyre #fanfic archive #you can't cross the same river twice #chapter 8

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Cupid’s Blind Arrow (Group Fic) Prologue - Ginger Nut

AN: Hi everyone so this is my first fic ever, it will be loosely based on the story of Romeo and Juliet, but this prologue is just introducing all of the main characters and how I want to portray them, there will be side characters I just haven’t included them in this. I’m still a bit unsure on what ship to centre the idea around so forgive me if i play about with a few for the next couple of chapters.Pronouns used are mainly she/her and sometimes they/them. I got this idea as I’m currently studying this play at school and I would want to read something like this, I’m really excited planning all of this out so please let me know what you think! I’m very open to feedback as I know I’m not the best writer, trust me my English teacher has told me, but I’ve tried really hard because not gonna lie I need an escape rn and this blog gives me life

“A glooming piece this morning with it brings;

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:

Go hence to have more talk of these sad things:

Some shall be pardon’d and some punished:

For there never was a story of more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

“Well then class that is the end of the play, we have finally finished the first reading of Romeo and Juliet.” Miss Raja tone was monotonous despite her inner self feeling a sense of relief considering it had felt like a chore to even pick this play up as every time she did her students gave an audible groan in protest.

“What do you mean the first reading, you only need to read it once” Someone from the back corner interjected however the teacher didn’t even need to look up to know who it was,

“Willam I’m surprised you think that you’ve read it once considering most often times than not you’re leaning against the wall with your eyes and book closed.” Willam Belli surprised everyone when she showed up to the honours English class and hadn’t walked into the wrong room. She never took anything seriously and didn’t apply herself to any of her classes. Secretly however, that had changed towards the end of last term as exams were on the rise. Her mum had hired her a tutor and it just so happens that Willam became head over heels for her, only secretly though, no one could know that Willam Belli had a crush. It just wasn’t her brand; guys lusted after her and girls loved her, Willam preferred to be single at all times, no commitment no issues. But for some reason she just couldn’t forget the blonde Australian who taught her about imagery, persuasive techniques, and poetic tones. Oh, and by the way, the beautiful aussie, named Courtney, became more than just a tutor. Their time together was short due to Courtney’s exchange programming expiring but Willam came out on top, scoring almost perfect in many of her exams….and in other ways.

“Nuh uh,” Willam looked at Miss Raja wearing a face that was a mixture of offense and boredom. “They meet, fall in love, find out they’re from feuding families and kill themselves to be dead together. Ya know “happy dagger and all that shit””

Miss Raja didn’t bat an eye at Willam’s language, at this point in the game she’d heard it all and was more interested at her participation than anything else.

Just at that the bell for 3rd period rang, and the stampede of students started to flow into the river of people in the corridor. Miss Raja started to collect in copies of the play as she felt weight being lifted off her shoulders, this class had to be the most challenging; Aside from the infamous vain character that is Willam, her class was full of huge personalities and Raja had no clue how this year was going to pan out, she groaned at the thought of it. Violet Chachki she thought as she picked the copy of the play off her desk, a prestigious yet intimidating student who had extremely high standards and walked the halls as if everyone disgusted her, you did not want to disappoint Violet. Her signature feature being a small a waist as Willam attention span, she also had an amazing eye for fashion and almost always showed up at school with an outfit that was coordinated head to toe. Raja admired her determination; that girl could achieve anything she set her mind to which is why she consistently turns in exceptional work on independent tasks. Next to Violet sat Bianca Del Rio, brutal honesty being her forefront and her over it attitude certainly contradicted her eagerness to participate in discussion which she usually took over from Miss Raja. Before you know it, Bianca was educating the whole class instead and Raja would sit back and let her go for it. As miss raja scanned the class she picked up the 3 copies belonging to the more laid back, chilled students in the back row: Right in the back corner was Pearl Liason, Pearl had only moved to the school a couple of months before summer which gave her a disadvantage regarding a social life, most of the kids had been going to the same school as each other their whole life. Pearl didn’t seem to mind though any time Raja had been on school lunch monitor duty, her dreaded day of the week, she noticed Pearl sitting at the end of a table with headphones in and usually doing homework or something of that sorts, sometimes she had a sketch pad out. A thought emerged, Raja believed that her and Violet would be good friends considering their arty, creative interests, maybe they worked together in a fashion or media class, but Raja never dared to get any closer to find out what was on Pearls paper. She just felt weird doing so, even though it’d probably be more interesting than listening to Miss Sanchez’s stories of her son or Miss Imfurst’s rages over her classes. Pearl was a more reserved student, that’s just how she was, nevertheless she got on with her work occasionally getting into trouble for smelling of cigarettes or weed as she came into class with the other back row students. In the middle sat Adore Delano, a grunge rocker who had an abysmal at best attendance record, but a raw talent that Miss Raja longed to see all the time, but it was hard fucking work. Adore preferred to talk than listen, write than read. Raja understood that, her mind produced some really wonderful things but examiners won’t ask you about the origin of life and importance of spirituality. Surprisingly Adore got on well with Bianca who sat immediately in front of her; they were polar opposites but somehow had an undeniable connection. Raja couldn’t keep herself from laughing sometimes at the things they came up with and their dynamic. Completing the back row was none other than Sharon Needles, Sharon had smart moments but for the most part Raja wondered how she managed to get into this class. She had a no fucks given vibe and for that reason she rarely turned any work in. Sharon didn’t do much work in class in fact she didn’t really do anything. She spent most of her time listening to Adore ramble on, engraving shit like “Andy Warhol is dead” onto her desk or staring out of the window looking like she was in love with the rain. The leather biker looks raised some eyebrows but on the inside Sharon was really goofy and a big softy. Raja could’ve sworn she’d caught Sharon gazing at one of the girls in the front row, but could not place her finger on who. Across the room Willam sat at the other back row alongside a few other students who Willam found pleasure in angering. One of them however seemed to enjoy her witty and usually narcissistic comments, and that was a Russian born gymnast called Katya. Raja had given up with her real name after less than one class. Katya had a weird sense of humour, that’s for sure but found Willam out of all people hilariously funny even when the joke was aimed at her. Katya’s work consisted mainly of historical events that had modern day twists, she had a weird thing for futuristic Barbie’s and it never failed to bore Raja. Making her way back down to the front row she guided past Alaska Thunderfuck scooping up her copy of the play. Alaska was actually quite intellectual; however, her class work was always to a much higher standard than her home assignments, Raja wondered what the fuck is that girl doing outside of school, who are her friends? Alaska insisted that she had a busy life, which one may be lead to believe. The girl was a cheerleader and featured in many of the school events such as the musicals. And finally, next to Alaska sat Trixie Mattel. Trixie’s personality and hair lit up the room, like Alaska, Trixie was a cheerleader and often came to class in uniform. Trixie was an ideal student, she always showed up on time to class, did her work, completed all homework, and scored pretty high in all class tests. Raja had no worries with her, god forbid she got into a relationship.

Miss Raja just noticed a pounding headache coming on as she proceeded to read the rest of the requirements for the Romeo and Juliet section; “Class must have a discussion on whether the plot of the play was a cautionary tale regarding the stupidity of youth and lust or a beautiful tragedy where poisonous hatred can be conquered by love.” Fucking hell, thought Raja. Class discussions are a waste of time. She scrolled down, the next requirement was a nine-point essay on why Romeo was a character created to evoke sympathy in the reader. Class discussion it is.

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mtairyartgarage-blog · 4 years

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International Women’s Day: Celebrating Women & The Arts

We’re celebrating International Women’s Day at the Mt. Airy Art Garage – and some amazing local and citywide women artists have stepped up to make this happen. Choirs, poets, spoken word artists, musicians, filmmakers, dancers, actors, painters, media gurus, and more. Join us in celebration and conversation!

So, feel free to read on, check out the artists’ bios, and spread the word about this event. Tell your friends, family, and even that passerby on the street! Everyone is welcome. Buy your tickets now or at the door. $10 donation per event or $25 for the entire weekend.

Outloud! A Celebration of Female Voices Friday, March 8th, 7-10 pm

An opening kick-off celebration that will focus on some of Philadelphia’s finest music and poetry.

Featured Performers: Anna Crusis Women’s Choir, TS Hawkins, Tamara Oakman, Victoria Peurifoy, Sister Cities Girlchoir, Yolanda Wisher, DJ Teriyaki, and Hannah Zaic!

Cocktail Reception Saturday, March 9th, 7-9 pm

Stop by, have a drink, chat, and see what we’re all about, here, at the Mt. Airy Art Garage.

Women In Media And The Arts—A Conversation Sunday, March 10th, 1-3 pm

An interactive conversation revolving around the past, present, and future of women in the arts. All are encouraged to attend, share, and question.

Featured Speakers: Michele Freeman, Sharon Katz, Nathea Lee, Janet Mason, Arleen Olshan, Nadine Patterson, and Jeanette Woods.

Learn more about our guest artists below!

Anna Crusis Women’s Choir

Anna Crusis Women’s Choir is committed to musical excellence and social change, singing to celebrate the diversity of women’s lives and culture. Anna Crusis is the country’s longest running feminist choir. In her thirty-seven year history, Anna has sought to act as an agent of social change by empowering, challenging and uplifting audiences with music that inspires and transforms. Anna has grown from a choir founded to promote women’s music, giving gay and straight women a strong community where they could find their voice and live their feminist principles, to a premier performing arts group and an important advocate for change in the greater Philadelphia region. Anna Crusis is committed to reaching diverse audiences and supports the work of fellow community organizations by singing at benefits and fundraisers.

Anna Crusis continues to promote these ideals with an emphasis on music by, for and about women and their lives. The choir values diversity and inclusion in its membership, its audiences and its repertoire. While honoring their common ground, choir members work to respect and learn from each other, from their differences in sexual orientation, racial and cultural heritage, age, class and spiritual expression.

Anna Crusis is a charter member of the international organization GALA Choruses (Gay and Lesbian Association of Choruses), which fosters the continued artistic and organizational growth of its member choruses through festivals, workshops and ongoing networking and administrative support services.

Anna is currently under the direction of Miriam Davidson, Artistic Director.

Michelle Freeman

With an ongoing love for her native Philadelphia region, Michelle has been working in marketing and events since she was in high school. Promoting concerts and handling flyer distribution projects as a teen, she eventually headed to Drexel University and received a degree in Corporate Communications while simultaneously working to establish and grow non-profit organization, Campus Philly. She worked in various positions at Campus Philly where she produced Campus Philly College Day and served as Senior Manager for Events and Media Programs. More recently, Michelle has been operating her own agency, Witty Gritty Marketing & Events. Amongst other things, she has implemented marketing programs and hosted events for the City Reps Office, City Food Tours, Campus Philly, and Philly Swap. She serves as publisher for the online magazine, Flying Kite. Michelle is also committed to volunteering and serves as a board member at Girls Rock Philly, and Spiral Q Puppet Theater. Occasionally you can see her around town DJing under the name DJ Teriyaki.

Sharon Katz

South African musician and humanitarian, Sharon Katz founded The Peace Train—a tour of 150 musicians by train across South Africa—in 1992 to help Nelson Mandela end Apartheid and has continued spreading a message of peace and reconciliation through performances and workshops in festivals, colleges and concert halls around the world.

Her recordings include “Imbizo” on Billboard’s Highly Recommended list and Grammy nomination list for Best World Music Album; “Crystal Journey” featuring the original 500 voice choir; “Lerato” with the legendary Afro-jazz diva Dolly Rathebe; “Live in NYC with Special Guest Pete Seeger;” “Double Take” with South African divas Abigail Kubeka and Dolly Rathebe; and “Carnival!” with Sting, Elton John, Tina Turner and Madonna. “When Voices Meet”, a full length documentary about The Peace Train, will be released in 2013. Sharon Katz & The Peace Train use proceeds from their appearances for their humanitarian work in under-developed areas of South Africa and around the world including music therapy with orphans and communities affected by HIV/AIDS; feeding programs in impoverished areas; conflict resolution work in violence-torn regions; and building schools and community arts centers. Sharon Katz & The Peace Train, the heartbeat of world music, www.SharonKatz.com

TS Hawkins

TS Hawkins is an actor, internationally recognized author, performance poet, wedding Officiant & producer/host for her radio station. Hawkins is fresh off her mini tour titled Silent No More in which she wrote the text “Cartons of Ultrasounds” and infused various directors, mask makers and puppeteers on each leg of the tour. She is soon to release her 7th publication, The Hotel Haikus, during the second installment of the Authors Under 30 Book Tour. More information on her, visit www.tspoetics.com

Nathea Lee

Mt. Airy-based photographer, Nathea Lee launched her freelance photography business in the summer of 2009. Although her business focus is live performances and special events, with a special emphasis on jazz, she delights in capturing images that reflect the heart of her subject, from performers, families and streetscapes to nature and architecture. In 2011, she was invited to be part of the multimedia team for the 3HO organization’s 10-day Winter Solstice Celebration (Kundalini Yoga retreat). 2012 was a breakout year for the enterprising and artful photographer. To honor Jazz Appreciation Month, in April, Nathea set out on a LiveJazz Journey. She is seeing and shooting a different jazz show each week for a year. In addition, her work has been published in a growing list of cultural media, including Black Renaissance Noire, thINKing dance, Philly 360°, and Acoustic Levitation; and has been featured in the exhibitions, A Day in West Orange, This Music We Call Jazz: Giant Steps, and the Philly Street Sounds Collective’s Philadelphia Open Studio Tour (POST) exhibit at The Arts Garage in North Philadelphia. She has also photographed for SmartCEO magazine, The Mann Center for the Performing Arts, and others. Nathea has been managing director of Kùlú Mèlé African Dance and Drum Ensemble since October 2009. Founded in 1969 by Robert Crowder, Kùlú Mèlé is one of Philadelphia’s oldest and most well-regarded dance companies. The company’s mission is to preserve, present and build upon the dance and music of Africa and the African Diaspora.

Janet Mason

Janet Mason is an award winning writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction, whose literary commentary is regularly featured on “This Way Out,” an international LGBT radio syndicate based in Los Angeles and aired on more than 400 radio stations in the U.S. and abroad. Her chapbooks of poetry include When I Was Straight (Insight To Riot Press) and a woman alone (Cycladic Press). Her book, Tea Leaves: a memoir of mothers and daughters was published by Bella Books in 2012 was chosen by the American Library Association to be on its 2013 Over the Rainbow List of notable LGBT books. She is currently at work on a novel. You can visit her at www.amusejanetmason.com

Tamara Oakman

Tamara Oakman’s poetry and fiction has appeared online and in print in such magazines as Painted Bride Quarterly, Philadelphia Stories and Best of Anthology, Mad Poets Review, Fox Chase Review, Certain Circuits Magazine, Many Mountains Moving, et al., with upcoming fiction in The Feminist Wire. She has awards in poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and drama, recently winning the Philadelphia Writer’s Conference memoir contest (2012). She has an MA in English and is completing her MA in Humanities from Arcadia University. She studied poet Anne Sexton at the Howard Gotlieb Archival Research Center in Boston, lived in the poet’s space, and interviewed friends and colleagues—including Maxine Kumin—culminating in a 40-page research article blended with an explicative analysis of Sexton’s poetry. She has lectured on Sexton’s work. She judged the Hidden River Arts fiction and drama contest; the Montgomery County Poet Laureate contest (2012), and is currently judging a fiction and poetry contest for Ursinis College’s Dolman Prize (2013). She is cofounder and executive editor of APIARY Magazine. Come see what the buZZZ is all about!! Find ALL 5 Apiary’s in FULL and MORE at www.apiarymagazine.com.

Arleen Olshan

Arleen Olshan, visual artist and handcrafter of custom leather goods, is Cofounder of the Mt. Airy Art Garage. Arleen looks forward to the celebration of International Women’s Day every year. “It means a great deal to me that on March 8, all over the world, women are being recognized for their accomplishments and the struggles they face to self actualize.”

For over 40 years, Arleen has been an activist in the LGBTQ and Feminist communities. She has held numerous positions such as Co-Coordinator of the first Gay & Lesbian Community Center of Philadelphia, Co-Owner of Giovanni’s Room, Officer on the Steering Committee of Philadelphia Focuses on Women in the Visual Arts, and Art Director at the YWCA of Germantown. She has worked in the HIV/AIDS community and with women in recovery from drug and alcohol addiction.

For the past three years Arleen has worked at building her dream of the Mt. Airy Art Garage through outreach to practicing artists in the Northwest, community residents, and organizations in the area. Now that 90% of the buildout is complete, Arleen is working in her studio on her leather goods and has returned to drawing and painting. You can find her work at www.arleenolshan.com.

Nadine Patterson

Ms. Patterson is an award winning independent producer/director. Her training in theatre, immersion in documentary film, and intense study of world cinema enable her to create works grounded in historical contexts, with a unique visual palette. Over the past 20 years, she has taught video production at West Chester University, Temple University, Arcadia University, Drexel University, University of Western Sydney (Australia) and Scribe Video Center. She was the only filmmaker selected for The Biennial 2000 at the African American Museum in Philadelphia. Some of her films include: “I Used to Teach English,” Winner Gold Apple Award 1994 National Educational Film/Video Festival, Oakland, CA; “Anna Russell Jones: Praisesong for a Pioneering Spirit,” Best Documentary 1993 African American Women in the Arts Film/Video Competition, Chicago, IL; “Moving with the Dreaming,” Prized Pieces award from the National Black Programming Consortium in 1997; “Todo El Mundo Dance!” selected for the 2001-2002 Council on Foundations Film and Video Festival. Other notable works include: “Shizue,” screened at the Museum of Modern Art, New York in 1991; and “Release” shown at the Constellation Change Dance Film Festival of London in 2006. She completed her second masters at the London Film School.

She received funding for her film work from The Philadelphia Foundation, The National Black Programming Consortium, The Bartol Foundation, and The Pennsylvania Council on the Arts. In 2010 she received a visual arts fellowship from the Independence Foundation. In 2011 along with Ain Gordon and the Painted Bride Art Center she received a grant from the Pew Philadelphia Theater Initiative for the creation of a new work about forgotten historical places in Philadelphia. For the third year Ms. Patterson curated the Trenton International Film Festival in November 2012. She completed two milestones in 2011 by publishing her first book Always Emerging and by completing principal photography on Tango Macbeth, her first feature film as director. Tango Macbeth was featured in three film festivals in 2012 and will be on tour to New York, Chicago, Washington D.C. and Paris with the African Diaspora International Film Festival in 2013.

Victoria Huggins Peurifoy

Victoria Huggins Puerifoy is an author, Poet, Spoken word artist, Storyteller, writer, biographer, photographer, consultant, facilitator, voice talent, Narrator, and Public Speaker. She is a member of White Rock Baptist Church.

She is a self published author with seven books, three chapbooks, and two CDs to her credit. Her latest book Let the Axiom Speak and God’s Calling were recently released. She has a Liberal Arts Degree from Community College and has attended creative writing courses and workshops around the city. She is the facilitator for the Poetry and Discussion group at the Center in the Park Senior Citizen Center. Victoria also writes autobiographies for senior citizens. Her latest book is about a 92 year-old woman who commissioned her as a ghost writer. That book is called I have not lived in vain. She is currently working on an Anthology with the poets from this group. Victoria has gained popularity around Philadelphia, North and South Jersey, Baltimore, and in Delaware; for what she brings to the table provokes thought. Victoria has performed at the October Galley’s Poetry Night, The Art of Conversation, the Black Writer’s Museum’s Poetry Marathon and Story Telling Saturdays, The Ethical Society, Germantown Poetry Festival in Vernon Park, and Freedom Theatre – just to name a few. Her poetry and photography have been exhibited at the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital’s Kimmel Cancer Center. She is a regular at the First Presbyterian Church of Germantown’s – Bread and Cup Café, Poetify–Poetry to Edify, Coffee After Dark, and Panoramic Poetry – Uptown, which is hosted by October Gallery. Recently, she was featured in WHYY’s online newspaper and subsequently was Interviewed and Featured on ExposureNation.Com which is an Online radio show. “Mother’s In Charge” had Victoria to speak at a Writing Workshop for young women in crisis. The Baptist Congress for Christian Education commissioned her to conduct workshops for children who were competing for a poetry contest.

As mentioned earlier, photography is another one of her passions and she is frequently commissioned to provide photography services. As a biographer, she is commissioned to help senior citizens write their life story.

As a member of the White Rock Baptist Church she is an active member. She sings on the Church Chapel choir, is an Announcement Clerk, and a Member of the Good Shepherd Circle. Recently, she has taken on the role of secretary to The Malawi Missions, which is a new effort at her church, who is partnering with two other churches. She is a widow and has three adult children and three grandchildren with one on the way.

Sister Cities Girlchoir

Sister Cities Girlchoir is the choral training academy that invests in the unique potential of at-risk girls to transform Philadelphia and Camden. In their pilot year, the Girlchoir operates weekly during after-school hours to build resilience and connection through musical study. SCG is modeled after El Sistema, Venezuela’s monumental music and social change program. For more information on these amazing kids visit www.sistercitiesgirlchoir.org.

Yolanda Wisher

Yolanda Wisher, a poet and educator, serves as Director of Art Education for the City of Philadelphia Mural Arts Program. Wisher received a B.A. in English and Black Studies from Lafayette College and M.A. in Creative Writing/Poetry from Temple University. At the age of 23, she was named the first Montgomery County Poet Laureate. A former English teacher and radio host, Wisher is a Cave Canem Fellow and Leeway Foundation Art and Change Award recipient. Her poems have been published in Fence, Ploughshares, The Philadelphia Inquirer, and in the anthologies Gathering Ground, The Ringing Ear, and Lavanderia. From 2006-2010, Wisher was the chief architect of the Germantown Poetry Festival, a neighborhood event in Philadelphia which showcased the talents of youth and locally and nationally known poets.

Jeanette Woods

Jeanette Woods is the Community Media Editor for NewsWorks. She trains community groups and individuals in multimedia news gathering. She also develops partnerships with community-based content creators in order to feature their work on NewsWorks.org and NewsWorks Tonight. Woods joined the NewsWorks project in 2011.

Jeanette’s career has encompassed writing, reporting, field production, archival research, database design, online interface design and photo editing. Her production credits include WGBH-TV, Blackside, Inc. and National Geographic Channel. Here audio work has been featured on WAMU, Marketplace and WHYY.

Hannah Zaic

Hannah Zaic is a multi-talented, one of a kind pop artist based out of Philadelphia, PA. The daughter of a blues guitarist and poet, she was literally born to write and perform. Growing up in such an artistic atmosphere exposed her to many genres and artists which would later help her to develop the difficult-to-define style she is known for. At a young age her ambitions became apparent when she started an all female singing group at 10 and then fronted her first rock group at 15.

In 2009 Ms. Zaic left New Jersey seeking to join the thriving music scene in Philadelphia. It was there that she would form her backing band, The Damaged Goods. Within the year she was playing some of the area’s most prestigious stages and getting noticed by various media outlets in the tri-state area. But it wasn’t long before she would establish herself as a fixture on the singer-songwriter circuit throughout the Northeast. Her music, which can be described as pop with elements of the blues and rock, tells stories through carefully crafted lyrics and rich melody lines. On stage, she consistently delivers dynamic stage shows, drawing her audiences in and involving them in each performance. As a vocalist, Hannah manages to combine her soulful vocal skills, which have been likened to Sara Bareilles and angelic tone with a playful indie edge reminiscent of a young Aimee Mann.

Her debut album, [something clever] is due out in early 2013. For more information on Hannah Zaic and The Damaged Goods go to, www.HannahZaic.com, find her on Facebook through Hannah Zaic and the Damaged Goods or follow her on Twitter @ www.Twitter.com/HannahZaic.

#2013

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wc-untold · 4 years

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THUNDERCLAN ALLEGIANCES

Created using https://perchance.org/wc-generator (elders were generated using a random number generator for the ages.)

This is a challenge to create entire OC clans using only a generator and the build a story using them. None of the descriptions have been edited from the generator (except the elders).

Leader:

- Jaystar is a long-legged, articulate, and inconsiderate leader, with coarse, red tabby fur, an angular face and topaz colored eyes. She is known for being able to speak badger. Jaystar is 59 moons old. Jaystar's warrior name was Jayfoot.

Deputy: - Oaksong is a slender, peaceful, and moody deputy, with long, dark brown tabby fur, a white front paw, and bright green eyes. She is a good mentor. Oaksong is 56 moons old. (Apprentice: Maplepaw)

MC: - Softthorn is a muscular, humble, and miserable medicine cat, with well-groomed, dark grey tabby fur, dark tear lines and piercing green eyes. She is very queasy around blood. Softthorn is 36 moons old.

- Lightrose is a broad-shouldered, naive, and fiery medicine cat, with flowy, red tabby fur, an especially long tail and starry blue eyes. He decorates his fur with flowers. Lightrose is 27 moons old.

MCA: - Falconpaw is a chubby, knowledge, and stiff medicine cat apprentice, with silky, red ticked tabby fur and golden eyes. She can climb trees better than anyone in her clan! Falconpaw's full name will be Falconfreckle. Falconpaw is 11 moons old.

Warriors: - Needleblaze is a long-legged, sweet, and trendy warrior, with matted, lilac point fur and topaz colored eyes. She received her warrior name early. Needleblaze is 25 moons old.

- Fennelrose is a chubby, accessible, and obsessive warrior, with feathery, dilute torbie patterned fur and forest green eyes. They love to fix up the dens. Fennelrose is 23 moons old.

- Lavenderwatcher is a bony, sage, and dull warrior, with ungroomed, red ticked tortoiseshell fur and light green eyes. She is known for collecting shells. Lavenderwatcher is 31 moons old. (Apprentice: Tanglepaw)

- Shimmerdawn is a heavyset, forecful, and careless warrior, with kinked, tortoiseshell fur, a plumy tail and bright green eyes. He likes to take walks in the forest. Shimmerdawn is 22 moons old.

- Hailcloud is a broad-shouldered, mature, and presumptuous warrior, with long, red ticked tabby fur and heather colored eyes. Their favorite food is sunfish. Hailcloud is 20 moons old.

- Woolyfire is an abnormally small, obedient, and obsessive warrior, with silky, cinnamon and white fur, a circle shaped face and soft grey eyes. They like to sleep in. Woolyfire is 23 moons old.

- Driftthorn is a broad-shouldered, captivating, and melancholic warrior, with downy, light grey tabby fur and light blue eyes. She is the best hunter in the clan. Driftthorn is 17 moons old.

- Mistyflame is a heavyset, principled, and whiny warrior, with clean, ginger flecked white fur, large paws and crossed, light blue eyes. They are defensive and quick to attack enemy clans. Mistyflame is 38 moons old. (Apprentice: Snakepaw)

- Bloombreeze is an average built, scrupulous, and malicious warrior, with downy, ruddy ticked tabby fur, dark tear lines and bright blue eyes. They are a good mentor. Bloombreeze is 37 moons old. (Apprentice: Slatepaw)

- Blizzardfall is a slender, empathetic, and forgetful warrior, with sleek, lilac colored tabby fur and amber eyes. He is popular among the clans. Blizzardfall is 25 moons old. (Apprentice: Ashpaw)

- Wheatsnarl is a long-legged, obedient, and self-indulgent warrior, with healthy, blue tabby fur and light blue eyes. She is a good mentor. Wheatsnarl is 14 moons old. (Apprentice: Troutpaw)

- Tigerstep is a small, stoiid, and faithless warrior, with tangled, brown flecked cream fur and bright yellow eyes. She received her warrior name early. Tigerstep is 34 moons old. (Apprentice: Berrypaw)

- Batbriar is an average built, outspoken, and gloomy warrior, with well-groomed, mottled creamy fur and oval-shaped blue eyes. He is good at conversation. Batbriar is 26 moons old.

- Thrushdust is a long-legged, elegant, and possessive warrior, with curly, light grey and white fur and orange eyes. They like to help the medicine cat. Thrushdust is 30 moons old. (Apprentice: Applepaw)

- Birchpounce is a bony, high-minded, and paranoid warrior, with curly, cinnamon colored tabby fur and yellow eyes. They decorate their nest with rocks. Birchpounce is 14 moons old.

- Sableshadow is a bony, deceptive, and sly warrior, with silken, brown tabby fur and almond-shaped brown eyes. He has a special connection with StarClan. Sableshadow is 14 moons old.

- Vixenpond is a well-built, peaceful, and childish warrior, with short, blue tabby fur, a kinked tail and lilac-tinted eyes. She can climb trees better than anyone in her clan! Vixenpond is 21 moons old.

- Brightbird is a short-legged, decent, and demanding warrior, with curly, tortoiseshell fur, light tear lines and slanted blue eyes. They love to share prey with the other cats! Brightbird is 16 moons old. (Apprentice: Runningpaw)

- Harewhisker is a muscular, ebullient, and unrestrained warrior, with ungroomed, light grey tabby fur and hazel eyes. He likes to sleep under the stars. Harewhisker is 28 moons old.

- Crowstripe is a short-legged, persuasive, and unimpressive warrior, with scarred, red tabby fur, a missing tail, and copper eyes. She is the best tracker in the clan. Crowstripe is 22 moons old.

- Lighteyes is a lithe, earnest, and whiny warrior, with ruffled, chocolate calico fur and marbled (yellow and gold) eyes. She is a harsh mentor. Lighteyes is 38 moons old. (Apprentice: Robinpaw)

- Petalbelly is a small, dramatic, and critical warrior, with glossy, light brown tabby fur, swept-back fur and topaz colored eyes. They are friends with just about everyone in their clan! Petalbelly is 32 moons old.

- Nectardust is a chubby, studious, and aimless warrior, with dirty, solid ginger fur and russet-colored eyes. They are gentle with kits.. Nectardust is 25 moons old.

Apprentices: - Ashpaw is an abnormally small, witty, and assertive apprentice, with well-groomed, cream ticked tortoiseshell fur and amber eyes. He likes to sleep under the stars. Ashpaw's full name will be Ashdawn. Ashpaw is 9 moons old. (Mentor: Blizzardfall)

- Berrypaw is a slender, hardworking, and disorganized apprentice, with long, tortoiseshell fur and starry blue eyes. They like to sleep under the stars. Berrypaw's full name will be Berrydapple. Berrypaw is 9 moons old. (Mentor: Tigerstep)

- Tanglepaw is a well-built, compassionate, and tasteless apprentice, with glossy, solid black fur and red-tinted eyes. They are a relatively clumsy apprentice. Tanglepaw's full name will be Tanglewhisker. Tanglepaw is 8 moons old. (Mentor: Lavenderwatcher)

- Troutpaw is a long-legged, respectful, and flamboyant apprentice, with patchy, tortoiseshell fur, a stubby tail, and silver eyes. He enjoys playing with kits, and teaching them things he's learned from his training. Troutpaw's full name will be Troutfern. Troutpaw is 7 moons old. (Mentor: Wheatsnarl)

- Robinpaw is a scrawny, restrained, and conventional apprentice, with curly, golden shaded fur and forest green eyes. They love to tell jokes and prank cats in their clan. Robinpaw's full name will be Robinstorm. Robinpaw is 8 moons old. (Mentor: Lighteyes)

- Maplepaw is an abnormally large, intelligent, and mellow apprentice, with downy, ginger and white fur and hazel eyes. They decorate their fur with feathers. Maplepaw's full name will be Maplethroat. Maplepaw is 8 moons old. (Mentor: Oaksong)

- Applepaw is an abnormally large, reflective, and gloomy apprentice, with thin, golden flecked cream fur, muzzle scars and topaz colored eyes. They are popular among the clans. Applepaw's full name will be Applebelly. Applepaw is 10 moons old. (Apprentice: Thrushdust)

- Snakepaw is a skinny, stern, and grand apprentice, with curly, ginger tabby fur and light green eyes. He smells like like the river. Snakepaw's full name will be Snakewish. Snakepaw is 10 moons old. (Mentor: Mistyflame)

- Runningpaw is a scrawny, mature, and complaintive apprentice, with dense, dark grey tabby fur and bright green eyes. They are defensive and quick to attack enemy clans. Runningpaw's full name will be Runningstorm. Runningpaw is 8 moons old. (Mentor: Brightbird)

- Slatepaw is a heavyset, decisive, and irrational apprentice, with soft, golden shaded fur and starry blue eyes. She likes to sun herself. Slatepaw's full name will be Slatemoon. Slatepaw is 9 moons old. (Mentor: Bloombreeze)

Queens: - Toadpelt is a small, confident, and calculating queen, with flowy, cinnamon and white fur and chilling yellow eyes. She is bad at conversation. Toadpelt is 29 moons old.

- Windbriar is a tall, punctual, and cruel queen, with glossy, dilute tortoiseshell fur, a weak posture and copper eyes. She is defensive and quick to attack enemy clans. Windbriar is 19 moons old.

Kits: - Owlkit is a large, teacherly, and childish kit, with silken, golden flecked white fur and yellow eyes. She is exceptional at hide and seek- perhaps Owlkit will be a good tracker in the future. Owlkit is 4 moons old.

- Flarekit is a muscular, decisive, and ungrateful kit, with silken, silver shaded fur and crossed, bright green eyes. She wants to explore beyond the camp. Flarekit is 2 moons old.

- Snipkit is a skinny, noncompetitive, and gloomy kit, with grizzled, cinnamon colored tabby fur, a cleft lip and soft grey eyes. He is exceptional at hide and seek- perhaps Snipkit will be a good tracker in the future. Snipkit is 4 moons old.

- Cloudykit is a long-legged, dramatic, and disorganized kit, with sleek, mottled creamy fur and dark brown eyes. He shows a lot of promise as a future warrior. Cloudykit is 3 moons old.

- Cherrykit is an abnormally small, gentle, and paranoid kit, with coarse, seal point fur and crossed, bright green eyes. They want to explore beyond the camp. Cherrykit is 5 moons old.

- Puddlekit is a large, unaggressive, and dirty kit, with lustrous, creamy tabby fur, freckles, and stormy grey eyes. He is exceptional at hide and seek- perhaps Puddlekit will be a good tracker in the future. Puddlekit is 3 moons old.

Elders: - Pebbledawn is an abnormally large, studious, and moody warrior, with dense, red calico fur and orange eyes. He is a good mentor. Pebbledawn is 197 moons old.

- Runningpool is a bony, honest, and bland queen, with downy, cinnamon silver ticked tabby fur, round features and dark blue eyes. She is gentle with kits. Runningpool is 181 moons old.

- Whitestrike is a lithe, humble, and flamboyant warrior, with grizzled, dilute torbie patterned fur and dark blue eyes. He enjoys taking naps. Whitestrike is 157 moons old.

- Sunwillow is a slender, cultured, and disorganized warrior, with silky, tortoiseshell fur and golden eyes. She loves to share prey with the other cats! Sunwillow is 168 moons old.

#olliesgenerator #warrior cats #warrior cats ocs

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