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quizzicalcrow · 4 years

Note

Can you do some angst Dad might and Izuku?

This was requested an ungodly long time ago but I’m finally delivering, hope you like anon.

Tw: suicide, allusions to abortion

Toshinori frowned and checked his phone again though knowing it was pointless. Barely a minute had gone by since the last check and he wasn’t expecting a phone call or message from the boy. Despite now having trained Midoriya for the last three months, he hadn’t gotten around to exchanging phone numbers with his chosen successor - a mistake, he realized now. It hadn’t seemed necessary before, he gave the boy a detailed training schedule so he always knew when to expect Midoriya while he himself popped in and out when he could. If the boy had a question it had always been something that could wait until the next time they met up.

Toshinori bit his lip and scanned the beach again, hoping to see the boy’s figure running towards him in the distance. But he was alone on the sand except for the seagulls and piles of trash. Piles, he was pleased to see, that had been steadily decreasing over the last few months. Midoirya was making good progress and even managing to stay slightly ahead of Toshinori’s tight schedule. He knew he had made the right choice after seeing Midoriya’s selfless act of bravery and the boy had only proven him more right every day with his dedication and hard work. Midoriya had thrown himself into the harsh training and had stuck to it, never missing a day or even being late - until today.

Toshinori checked his phone yet again and sighed, it was now over thirty minutes past Midoriya’s scheduled start time but still no sign of the boy. Maybe he was sick, or had something after school today? There was no way to know. He didn’t even know where Midoriya lived. Tsukauchi could probably look up Midoriya’s address if Toshinori really needed it, but the hero was reluctant to use his friend’s connections like that unless absolutely necessary. He at least knew the middle school Midoriya attended since there were only three in the city of Mustafu and each had a unique uniform. Should he try stopping by there? Was that too forward or interruptive? If his successor really was just held up at school, would he be upset at Toshinori checking in on him? No doubt he’d probably faint at having All Might show up at his school. His lips twitched up into a small smile at the thought.

This would have been so much easier if I had just given him my number weeks ago. Berating himself, he hauled himself up from where he had been sitting on an old, rusted dishwasher. Despite Midoriya knowing two of his greatest secrets, his injury and One for All, and soon to be inheriting the Quirk itself - Toshinori had tried to keep some measure of distance from the boy. It would be better, he had initially thought, to not get too close. He had managed to lose or push away pretty much everyone else close to him and had decided long ago that it was better this way, safer. After all, Toshinori himself only had at best two years left before Nighteye’s predicted future, it would be best for all involved if he didn’t leave behind anyone to mourn him. He thought of his own grief after Nana’s death, still a dull pain now even 30 years later, and didn’t wish that for his own successor.

And yet… Toshinori had planned to just get Midoriya started with his training regime, drop by enough to make sure the kid stuck with it and didn’t crush himself under a garbage pile, and then just check in when needed. And still he found himself making excuses to stop by on days he didn’t plan to, to stay longer when he should be at his agency. On days he couldn’t make it to the beach, Toshinori found himself missing the excited ramblings and mutterings. When he was stuck in meetings at his agency or out helping others, he found his thoughts turning to his young successor - wondering how his day was going. Despite himself, he knew he was growing attached to the boy. Some warm, unnamed feeling bubbled in Toshinori every time he saw Midoriya’s bright smile on seeing him - even in his shriveled,skeletal form. That same feeling grew cold and hard at the thought something could have happened to him.

I’ll take a walk. He decided. I still have a little bit of my time limit left so I can count it as a patrol, and maybe I’ll run into Young Midoriya along the way. He took off in the direction of the boy’s school, following the route he had seen Midoriya follow on his way to the beach. He’d at least take a walk around, make sure everything was okay before circling back to the beach one last time and calling it a day.

The streets and sidewalks were busy in the early evening as people left work and ran errands. Toshinori walked along, hunching over and staying off to the side to avoid attention. At one point he saw a small group of students walk by, the boys in uniforms identical to Midoriya’s but there was no sign of the boy’s unkempt green green hair among them. He resisted the urge to go up and ask them, no doubt they’d just be alarmed at a skeletal old man like himself bothering them.

Still, he couldn’t help watching the students past, laughing together about something. Midoriya never mentioned any friends, never had any issues sticking to the harsh schedule Toshinori had devised for him that left him with no free time for socializing or fun. Despite his clever mind and ambitions, the boy didn’t seem to be in any after school clubs or activities either. While Toshinori had grown up Quirkless as well, it hadn’t been as rare back then - and not as stigmatized as it was now. Did the boy have anyone close to him besides his mother? Was there anyone else Toshinori could try asking where the boy could be?

There was a crowd ahead at the end of a bridge, clumps of people stood either talking quietly to each other or craning their necks to get a look at whatever had drawn them all together. Toshinori tensed and prepared to go into his muscular form as he approached in case All Might was needed. He paused at the edge of the crowd and tried to see what had caught everyone’s attention to no avail. Even with his height he couldn’t make out what was going on ahead.

“Did something happen?” He asked two young women nearby at the edge of the crowd.

One, a lady with teal hair and matching eyes turned and looked at him disdainfully, no doubt wondering who this ugly skeleton was. “There was a suicide jumper, police have the bridge blocked off as they fish the body out from the river.”

Toshinori’s heart twinged at that, feeling sorry for the person who felt they had no other choice left in their lives except to end it.

“They’ve had this bridge blocked for the last 15 minutes and the next closest one to cross the river is, like, a mile away!” Her friend whined, shaking her head topped with a small set of antlers. “Quirkless idiot had to do it during rush hour of course.”

Ice ran through Toshinori’s veins. “Q-Quirkless?” He choked out, trying to keep his voice even.

A man nearby spoke up. “Yeah, I heard it was some Quirkless kid.”

“Poor kid, probably realized he didn’t have much of a future ahead of him and offed himself.” Someone else muttered. “Probably a relief for the family. My cousin has a Quirkless kid,” He shook his head regretfully. “Wish that was something they could test for before birth, would make things a lot easier.”

Toshinori looked sharply at the man who spoke and was surprised to see others nodding in agreement. Around him, other onlookers were saying similar things, more upset about the minor delay in their lives than the life that had just been extinguished. Had Quirkless discrimination really gotten so bad? He staggered away, sickened by the blaise way those people spoke of a child feeling so lost that the only way out they could find was to end it all.

Quirkless. Child. Toshinori’s heart clenched. No, it couldn’t be.

How many Quirkless students could there be in Mustafu? The few times young Midoriya spoke of school, it seemed he was the only Quirkless one among his classmates. While the Quirkless rate was 20%, he knew it was significantly less than that in Midoriya’s generation. But no, it couldn’t be possible. It had to be someone else. Please let it be someone else. It was wrong to plead for such a thing but for the first time in his life Toshinori felt selfish, desperately wishing for once for tragedy to befall someone else.

A memory came to him, from that rooftop exchange where Toshinori had initially dismissed Midoriya’s dreams of being a hero. The boy had looked so lost and broken but the hero had been too wrapped up in his own problems to care at the time. Had he missed something since? Was there a sign he overlooked? He thought of those broken sobs of relief from the boy when he had told Midoriya he could be a hero. They were like a boy finding something to live for.

He wouldn’t, would he? Toshinori collapsed on a nearby bench, doubled over and clutched his hair tightly in his hands. The boy was timid and uncertain at times, but also so full of hope and determination. He could still picture that bright smile on Midoriya’s face just yesterday as they said their goodbyes after training. But you should know better than anyone that a smile can hide so much. He shuddered.

Midoriya had come so far, and had worked so hard. Did Toshinori miss something, had he been too hard on the boy? Maybe his trainee had decided the task was too impossible and he wouldn’t be able to complete the cleanup in time for the entrance exams. Midoriya practically worshipped All Might, perhaps he was too afraid of letting his hero down. What remained of his digestive system twisted. It’s my fault, I dangled hope at what seemed just out of reach for the poor boy. His hands dug in deeper in his scalp to the point of pain as the first tears began to fall. It’s all my fault. It was getting hard to breath and yet Toshinori hefted himself up to his feet. The ground seemed tilted beneath his unsteady legs. I have to find out, have to know for certain.

“All Mi- um, sir?” The voice was hesitant and oh so familiar. Toshinori’s head turned sharply and there was Midoriya a little ways down the sidewalk, looking confused and worried but alive.

In a flash Toshinori covered the distance and had Midoriya wrapped in a tight hug. The boy went rigid for a second, no doubt surprised. But Toshinori held on, clutching the boy’s shirt with one hand and burying the other in that soft green hair. He needed this. needed to reassure himself that this was real and his boy was actually here. After a moment Midoriya leaned into the embrace.

“Um, sir? Are you okay?” He asked and Toshinori’s heart squeezed at the sound of concern in his voice. Reluctantly he broke away from the hug so he could look his successor in the eyes.

“I-I got worried, when you didn’t show up at the beach.” He murmured, still keeping one hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Midoriya bowed slightly. “I’m so sorry! I got held back by a teacher about a group project thing, and I normally take this bridge across but well you can see it’s closed down so I had to go a ways out for the next one.” The boy looked over to the crowd of people. “Did something happen? I hope I didn’t interrupt you if you were about to do some hero work All-”

“It’s fine.” Toshinori said quickly, both to stop the boy from saying his hero name out loud in public and prevent any more questions. This wasn’t something Midoriya needed to know about. “There’s nothing more I can do here.” He couldn’t keep the regret from his voice. His successor looked at him quizzically but thankfully didn’t ask anything further.

Toshinori stood up fully, though stayed close by Midoriya’s side. He looked back the way he had come, towards the beach. “How about we stop by a food stand and get something to eat before we start your training for the day?”

“But what about my schedule?! I’m already behind for the day!”

Toshinori gave a small smile. “We still have time my boy, there’s still time.” Time for me to correct a few things.

“Midoriya, I just want to let you know that you can clean up the beach in time. And if something happens and for whatever reason you don’t, I promise you will still receive One for All. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you get into UA, or another hero school if that doesn’t work out. You have a bright future ahead of you boy, and I will do everything I can to make sure you accomplish your dreams.”

Predictably, the boy’s bright green eyes soon filled with tears and Toshinori just silently passed over a clean handkerchief.

“Th-thank you All Might. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“It’s no problem my boy, I should have been telling you this all much sooner. And something else,” He reached into his baggy pants to pull out his phone. “I never did give you my phone number, did I?”

Okay so this ended up not being as angsty as probably requested but I am incapable of not writing a fluffy ending.

#prompts #my writing #asks #dad might #Toshinori Yagi #izuku midoriya

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ficforce · 3 years

Text

Gokai Part 2

Konro x Reader

SFW

Winter in Asakusa was much colder than in the city, perhaps because it wasn’t as crammed with tall buildings and it didn’t benefit from every home, business and car exuding heating as they turned up the thermostats. Asakusa actively tried to use as little as they could from Haijima and the rest of the Empire, they used generators to heat their homes and a more common-sense approach - putting on more layers was one of them. Many of the energy sources for the homes were struggling with the cold weather and the higher demand so Y/N found herself going out on more calls to repair or adjust them.

It had been nearly two months since she’d last spoken to Konro, she avoided him when she saw him in the street, still feeling the sting of humiliation from his rejection… for thinking he could like her in the same way. She still practised with her wooden sword and had found a new little clearing a bit further out from her home, though it wasn’t as fun as when Konro had been with her.

She knew she would have to face him sooner or later but as she stood outside the entrance of the Guardhouse, she wished it could have been later.

“Y/N!” The woman felt herself smile brightly as one of the twins greeted her as she toed off her boots, she couldn’t tell which one was Hikage and which one was Hinata, she hadn’t gotten to know them well enough yet. Luckily she didn’t have to make a guess as Y/N was pulled in by the sleeve and she had to half jog to keep pace with the little girl, “Everyone’s saying it’s cold - you’re gonna make them shut their faces, right?”

It still surprised her when the twins spoke so roughly, she knew they were being raised in the Guardhouse and their guardians were predominately Konro and Benimaru, but she didn’t think Konro had that bad of a mouth.

Why did she have to think about his mouth?

“Hikage!” Both of them stopped when a man’s voice reached them, Y/N straightened up and turned to see that Benimaru was on the opposite side of the room they were in, “The hell are you taking her? This isn’t playtime, Y/N’s got work to do.” He then mumbled under his breath about the girls being ‘damn brats today’ and she figured that they were learning their speech patterns from Benimaru.

“But, Waka!” Hikage stomped her foot and her sleeve flapped noisily as she waved her arm, “You said Me and Hina could play!”

Y/N saw the subtle way that the Captain’s chin tilted up, blatantly ready for an argument, and she quickly crouched down to Hikage’s level, “You said everyone was cold, right? It is pretty chilly in here, to be honest.”

“Really?” Her eyes narrowed at Y/N, searching her face for any sign of a lie.

“Don’t you get cold when you have ignition abilities?” Hikage shook her head at the question and sighed as she seemed to understand that perhaps it could be an issue for other people in the Guardhouse, she let go of Y/N’s hand so that she could follow after Benimaru to the generators. As they walked in silence, she wondered if Benimaru knew about her stupid move in kissing Konro, they were very close after all, and as she followed him toward the back of the large building Y/N began to feel a little anxious.

Benimaru slid open the doors to reveal two large generators, one had stopped completely and the other was making an odd ticking sound. “Not gonna lie, it’s been a while since either was serviced. Most of us are walking heaters so we don’t notice when it’s cold,” he wanted people to stop complaining that they were cold and he was a little worried about the older folk who stayed at the Guardhouse sometimes. “No point putting people up if it’s colder inside than outside…”

“That’s true.” Y/N walked around the ticking generator and sighed, “This one needs the fuel tank emptying out and a full service, It’ll take me a few hours on my own.” Her knuckles rapped on the metal, “This one, I don’t even know, so I’ll get the first one going before I even look at it.” It could take her a few days on her own, the challenge was going to keep her going mentally but the longer she stayed - the more likely she would bump into the Lieutenant.

The young Captain crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, “I’ll send someone down to help empty the tank out, we’re down a few men and Konro’s sick so I’m dealing with everything on my own. If you need anything you’re gonna have to ask someone else.”

Konro was sick?

Y/N bit her lip at the news, she wanted to ask for more details but it really wasn’t her business anymore, “Okay, that’s not a problem.” Benimaru looked at her for a long second, he appeared to be waiting for her to say something, once he seemed to realise there was no more the Captain gave her another nod and headed out.

The first generator had been disgusting inside, the old fuel had congealed and blocked some of the pipes, the ticking had been the thermostat struggling to work through the clogged pieces. Once she turned it off the whole place got cold pretty quickly. Her breath fogged as she worked and soon she had three or four of the Hikeshi join her, they helped clean and then refill the tank - they must have been cold to come and help out so fast.

She hadn’t seen him.

As the generator burst into life a cheer could be heard from further in the building when the heat began to circulate. Y/N grinned as she was pat on the back and she found herself being pulled toward the rec area, the least they thought she deserved was a warm drink.

During her work, snow had fallen outside, a thick layer of white covered the houses and streets. Y/N couldn’t put up much of a fight when she was advised to stay the night, they had spare rooms and clothing she could use and it wasn’t a problem for anyone there - her only anxiety was Konro.

After she had bathed and changed into a thick yukata she ate dinner with everyone else. She became Hinata and Hikage’s playmate until they decided that Benimaru was a better target, they were quite boisterous for such small girls. In the morning she would get to work on the second generator, with any luck she would be finished by the evening. “Y/N.”

Being pulled out of her thoughts she smiled, “Captain Shinmon?” The man sat beside her, his fingers pulling at the sticky spot in his hair from playing with the twins, they always seemed to be eating something sickly sweet. He made her nervous by association of Konro, did he know what she’d done? Did he have an opinion on it?

“Can you set up a small heater in one of the rooms? Everyone’s staying on the warmer side of the Guardhouse til the other generator is fixed but I don’t wanna move Kon right now, I don’t know how to set up the piece of crap.” He had tried already and failed, “He’s sleeping pretty hard so I don’t think he’ll even wake up.” Konro had been out like a light all day, a few times he had woken up but he wasn’t much use to anyone, Benimaru was concerned but he tried not to worry, Konro wasn’t a little kid and he wasn’t some vulnerable old man either. “You two don’t hang out anymore, huh?”

A small sound escaped her, something between a squeak and a cough, it was pointless trying to hide it as choking on her tea and Y/N let out a large sigh, “Has… Has he said something?”

“Nope,” Benimaru leaned back on his hands and stretched his neck side to side, he hadn’t stopped all day and now he was tired, “I just noticed he doesn’t take so long to come back in the mornings. I didn’t think anything of it but your reaction just now tells me that something happened…”

To her amazement, he had seemed to have nodded off for that brief moment. “Sorry, I was just a little anxious for you to ask.”

Y/N waited for him to ask, she sat tense with her breath held. Waiting…

But he didn’t continue and the woman looked up from her cup to watch him, his eyes were closed and he didn’t seem like he would continue, “Um, Captain?” Benimaru continued to be silent and she reached out to poke his arm - red eyes popped open and he inhaled sharply.

“Ask what?” He crossed his legs and reached for a cup.

Was he messing with her? Y/N could feel her face heating up as she seemed to be digging a hole for herself, “Why we don’t talk anymore.”

“You’re not even talking? Shit, something must have happened…” It wasn’t that he didn’t care, he just wasn’t the kind of person to get involved in other people’s business. Benimaru had learned so much from Konro growing up, he didn’t feel like he had anything to teach the man in respect of life experience. “You’ll set the heater up, though?”

She nodded and breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to interrogate her further.

She really missed him.

Never had setting up a simple heater been so hard. The woman felt as if everything was working against her, the door to Konro’s room had squealed slightly on the runner, she had stepped on every creaky floorboard under the tatami in the room and had even knocked over an extinguished lantern. Each time she looked at Konro he was sound asleep, his covers were up to his chin and someone had been in to place a cool cloth on his forehead. Silently as she could, she brought the heater closer to his sleeping form and turned it on, she had planned to leave right away but found herself wanting to linger.

Y/N had always thought that Konro looked tired most days, she assumed it was because he didn’t sleep well or worked too hard. It had never detracted from his looks and it didn’t seem to stop him from doing his day to day activities, only right now… he looked sick. There was no heat radiating off of him either. It had always comforted her when he stood close, his warmth and the calm he brought her.

— -

Y/N had fixed the second generator and life continued.

That brief moment in Konro’s room had been playing on her mind all week and one morning she picked up her practice sword and instead of going to the new clearing, she walked across the street to her old clearing, the tree was bare and as she approached it she paused. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Konro was there.

He was sat on one of the low walls, huddled in on himself and still looking a little worse for wear. After a moment of her standing there, he looked up from the snowy ground and seemed just as surprised as her. “Y/N?” Konro stood up and headed toward her - she couldn’t move, had he been coming all this time?

“Why?” Her wooden sword slipped from her fingers and landed silently in the snow, “I don’t understand why you’re still coming here, it’s been so long and… and you’re sick, you idiot! You shouldn’t be out here!” He didn’t stop in front of her as she expected, Konro reached out and rested his hands on her shoulders, his touch lacking its warmth still, Y/N went to him without any effort on his part. Konro was holding her close and she didn’t know why, didn’t care as the hands she missed rested on her and his scent reached her nose.

“You never let me explain.” He said quietly, he had been coming every morning since she had kissed him, he hadn’t wanted to embarrass her further by confronting her at her home or in the street, he had waited patiently and he felt that eventually, she would come back. “I wasn’t trying to reject you, Y/N, I was trying to give you fair warning.”

Y/N placed her hands on his chest and pushed gently away, not far enough to be out of his reach but enough to look at his face and show him just how confused his words were making her. Fair warning? What was there to warn her about, he was kind and handsome and he was obviously an idiot if he thought he had to talk her out of wanting to be with him.

All of a sudden the sound of a scream and a billow of dark smoke rose up into the air from one of the homes nearby. The man zeroed in on the exact home, the front door was open and he heard Y/N gasp as she covered her mouth, the sight of the person rolling on the ground in agony as flames erupted from their eyes and mouth, orange and red dancing on their skin and clothing, blackening them, eating them up until no one could tell they had been human.

The Lieutenant had no choice but to pull his coat hard enough forward that she lost her grip, he drew his sword and approached the poor soul that had combusted. The sound of yelling and the bell from the watchtower filled his ears, it would be best to do this quickly and kindly as possible.

Konro stood in front of her, blocking her from the sight and the danger of the new Infernal, “Get out of here, Y/N” He made to move forward but he was held back by her hands balling into his clothing and she pushed herself into his back, “…Y/N?”

A quick glance back made his heart squeeze in his chest, she was frozen to the spot, her eyes wide and frightened… She’d never seen an Infernal before, never heard it screaming and never smelt anything like it. Y/N was terrified and she couldn’t let go of him, couldn’t move her feet either.

It felt like her feet were glued to the floor, even with the danger all around her she couldn’t seem to get herself to move, Y/N tried to tell the Captain that, tried to tell him to get to Konro and that’s when she spotted another Infernal on a rooftop, it launched itself into the sky and knocked Benimaru off of his perch, sending them both crashing down. “Beni!” Konro’s call made her head whip back to the house where Konro was still fighting with the second Infernal, he was being overwhelmed and Y/N saw his sword had fallen a few feet away from him.

It was hard to tell what had happened from the time he made her let go of him to the time it took him to walk toward the Infernal. Y/N had watched it all unfold but wasn’t able to understand it, as Konro had subdued the Infernal, seconds from putting them to rest, another fiery creature had rushed out of the house and thrown itself onto the man.

The sky above her had lit up and she let out a terrified scream when a matoi embedded itself into the ground next to her, Benimaru’s voice drew her eyes upward, he was riding on another matoi and items around her began to ignite and rise, “You’re in the way, get out of here before you get burnt.”

The woman stumbled and fell into the snow on her first attempt to move, she was scared, she hadn’t been this scared ever in her life but she had to keep going. Forcing her legs under her, Y/N ran toward Konro with her eyes firmly on his sword.

Grabbing the hilt and adjusting her hold, comforted by the wear of his hands over the years and confident in all that he had taught her, Y/N took a deep breath and swung the sword toward the Infernal.

#sagamiya konro #reader #enen no shouboutai #fire force #enn enn no shouboutai

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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If We Walk Down This Road, 1/2 (Scyvie) - Ashley

It’s the final year of sixth form and stress levels are high for Yvie as she balances school work, Uni applications and her “part-time” job in a kids activity centre. However, things only get worse when her boss decides to hire his privately educated, definition of privilege daughter, Scarlet, as their marketing assistant and she rubs Yvie up the completely wrong way. Until, of course, she doesn’t.

Here goes a very late submission to the black girl magic fic! Hope you guys like it! This is a prequel of some sorts to my fics Got My Number and Girl on Fire but it works fine as a standalone so you don’t have to have read those to understand anything. Big thanks to @pink-grapefruit-cafe and @artificialortega for all the help, love and support with this fic.

Yvie loved her life. She wouldn’t have changed a piece of it for the world. Only, every now and then, she longed to be someone else.

This feeling usually arrived when making her way through the industrial estate, hearing the loud Kidz Bop music they were forced to play at her work ring in her ears before the building was even in sight. In fact, that feeling arrived every single time she walked towards her work, it was just something she had become accustomed to. It wasn’t the worst job in the world, she got to hang out with Jaida, Heidi and Priyanka on the weekends and the pay wasn’t awful. She just sometimes wished that after a long, frustrating day of writing essays she could stay on the bus until she arrived home, take a nice shower and do her homework with the telly on instead of hopping off after just six stops to put on a fake smile for a few hours and pray that no one was sick in the soft play area.

And on what seemed like the dullest Friday since she had started her job there, God (who she didn’t really believe in but had no one else to make the prayer to) decided that it most certainly wasn’t her night because a grand total of three kids were sick in the soft play instead of just the usual one.

So worth the twenty pounds she’d end off earning. So, so worth it.

Ready to throw her gloves in the bin, wash her hands at least four times and spend the rest of the night lurking at the back of the cafe until it was time to close, Yvie was stopped in her tracks when she returned back to her spot. Her spot that was currently occupied by a thin, unfamiliar red-head.

Pale legs poking out of a plaid skirt that reeked of prefects and lacrosse games, she stood out like a sore thumb against the bright yellow hoodies that made up their uniform (Yvie’s slightly stained with bleach and too short for her gangly arms). Yvie watched in silence for a second as the girl burrowed through the fridge, hearing a big, dramatic sigh of relief escape her red lips as she laid eyes on a Coke Zero.

“Can I help you?” Yvie asked.

Only it wasn’t really a question, Yvie using her level ten voice that was usually only saved for people who tried to push in the queue for the toilet on nights out or for idiots who answered easy questions wrong on Pointless when she watched it at Nina’s house. Annoying customers were normally only confronted with a mid-range level of anger on Yvie’s behalf, passive-aggressive rather than completely pissed off. As much as forever feeling the need to call out people in the wrong irked her, Yvie knew that she shouldn’t do that at work, leaving it for at home where the threat of being fired didn’t loom over her shoulder like the grim reaper’s scythe.

Something about this girl just threw that out into the window and sent it flying down the motorway at rapid speed, Yvie’s patience nowhere to be seen.

“Sorry.” The girl giggled. Actually giggled. “Took me forever to find the sugar free!”

“Normally you’d wait to be served it.” Yvie shot imaginary laser beams with her eyes. “At the other side of the counter.”

Yvie watched the girl pause, a coy grin on her face as her eyes danced between Yvie’s face and her own reflection in the clean glass.

“It’s a shame there was no one there to serve me!” She unscrewed the lid from the bottle, taking a swig and aaahing in delight as though it were the nectars of Greek gods.

Her voice was posh.

Not tea and crumpets, let’s-go-shoot-some-clay-pigeons posh but still posh nonetheless. She pronounced the Ts in her words in a way that neither Yvie nor any of her friends did and Yvie knew that if she wasn’t so furious she would have found it sexy.

She was always a sucker for a posh voice.

“Well, if you’d have waited two minutes then I would have been here,” Yvie replied, letting her nails squish into the palms of her own hands - a self-control mechanism that didn’t tend to work when your nails were bitten down to stumps like Yvie’s currently were (something she liked to attribute to the stress of her A-Levels despite it being a habit she’d formed as a kid).

It was safe to say she didn’t feel relieved.

Especially when the familiar lull of the owner’s voice boomed behind her. How perfectly convenient.

“Yvie!”

Normally Yvie would be relieved to realise he’d actually gotten her name right but her mind was full of other thoughts - supermodel shaped thoughts with blue eyes that were probably going to get her murdered.

At least she’d taken the rubber gloves off before she met her untimely end, she thought to herself, pulling the biggest ‘I’m sorry, I should be more attentive’ smile she could muster as she turned to face her boss.

“I see you’ve met my daughter!” He motioned to the girl.

His daughter, of course.

“Yes,” Yvie stammered, her cheeks red at the mistake she’d made.

The girl, her boss’ daughter, instead seemed nothing but amused.

“Scarlet’s here to help with our marketing; gotta make sure that personal statement is in tip-top shape ready for applications!”

Yvie felt his words crawl under her skin, the itch of casual nepotism. Casual nepotism that would probably land people like Yvie without a Uni offer. She never liked to think of herself as bitter when these situations arose, but this time she couldn’t deny that she was at least a little tart. After all, Yvie was pretty adamant that any Russell Group would favour the privately educated white girl who had marketing experience with a local business over the one who cleaned the toddler’s sick from the ball pit.

It really was as simple as that.

Yvie didn’t know if Scarlet failed to sense her discomfort or simply ignored it anyway as she moved over and held out her hand.

Yvie couldn’t remember the last time she had actually shaken someone’s hand but obliged nonetheless. Scarlet’s eyes narrowed slightly when Yvie met them, her face concentrated like she was about to be quizzed on Yvie’s appearance. Realising she hadn’t blinked since their hands met, Yvie pulled away quickly, the brightness of the centre snapping back into focus around her.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then.” Scarlet took an extra big swig of the bottle before tossing it in the bin and leaving the cafe with her Dad.

And she wasn’t wrong. Indeed, Yvie found herself “seeing Scarlet around” on every single shift she was on the rota for. For an entire three weeks. Without fail.

She was starting to think the phrase, ‘bane of my life’ was an understatement for how she felt about the girl.

It’d started small, Yvie finding herself rolling her eyes whenever Scarlet came into the cafe for a drink. But soon Yvie started to believe that Scarlet didn’t just live in a different part of town but in a whole other fantasy that the rest of the staff were foreign to, parading past the trampolines once every hour as if the carpet were the runway at Paris Fashion Week.

“Do you think someone needs to tell her she’s not actually a real princess?” Yvie spoke into the walkie talkie, exchanging glances between Scarlet and her friend.

“Leave her be! She’s just playing with the kids, you witch,” Jaida responded from the opposite end of the park. “Stop being so cynical.”

Yvie was grateful for her work friends. Although she loved Nina and Brooke with every piece of her often cold, dead heart, it was nice to have found girls more like her at work. Girls who understood how it felt when her school told her she wasn’t allowed any “extreme” hairstyles and she had to take out her braids. Girls who also got told they were too confident, sometimes arrogant when all they were doing was being proud of themselves. Girls a little bit older and wiser (not that she’d ever admitted that she found them wise) who helped her love her skin just that little bit more than she already did.

“Yeah but she’s probably getting paid double what we are to swan about like that!”

Yvie raised her hands in the air to Jaida but didn’t get a chance to hear her response, turning the volume down to zero when she saw Scarlet making her way towards her.

“Hey, doll.” Scarlet plonked a notebook down on the counter in front of Yvie, a big grin of optimism filling the lower half of her face.

Her hair was down that day, soft ginger curls falling in front of her chest. Yvie had a sudden urge to push a strand back and tuck it behind her ear.

Why did the most annoying girl on the planet have such flawless bone structure? It simply wasn’t fair.

“Hello,” Yvie responded rather formally, reaching to grab Scarlet’s usual order. The faster she did so, the faster she walked away - so Yvie may or may not have been keeping a couple of Coke Zeros in the special fridge under the counter that was saved only for open milk bottles, just so she could serve Scarlet with the utmost efficiency.

A part of her just wished she would serve herself again.

“Oh no.” She shook her head, reaching out to touch Yvie’s arm and stop her. Yvie could hardly feel her hand through the thick hoodie, yet her heart still decided it wanted to start sprinting in the middle of the leisurely stroll it was taking before Scarlet had come over. Maybe she had to add the human anatomy to the list of things she’d decided she hated that week, right underneath her new English teacher and egg mayonnaise sandwiches. Her stupid, fat heart.

“I’m here for your interview!”

“Interview?” Yvie raised a brow and chuckled to herself. She wondered if Scarlet had ever actually had to be interviewed for anything in her life nevermind conduct one.

“For Instagram! I’m posting little profiles of all the staff, a little get to know me! It’ll help the youngsters really see what a family we are here!”

Yet another thing Yvie hated was how Scarlet always managed to talk like an edgy teenager and a middle-aged woman at the same time, figuring that was the first and last time she’d hear an eighteen-year-old refer to kids as “youngsters”. Or at least she said she hated it in one of the many Scarlet-included rants she’d had to Heidi the weekend before; she may have actually loved it. The two feelings were often blurred in Yvie’s brain, hard to tell one from the other in her web of brutal honesty and blunt opinions. She was ninety-nine per cent sure she hated it.

“I’ll get someone to cover your station and we can go natter in the staff room.” Scarlet took her lack of words as acceptance and turned on the spot.

Maybe Yvie was only eighty per cent sure.

Yvie had never seen Scarlet in the staff room before, watching most days as the girl took her snacks outside where she ate alone in her car. So it was strange to be cramped on the small sofa with her, both of them staring at the mirror in front rather than at each other. The smell of a ready-made curry that had been left in the microwave for too long that day was lingering warm in the air. Yvie took a deep breath and held it, scared that if she released it her body would touch Scarlet’s just that inch too much and then the entire world around them would explode around them, kind of like the curry.

“So, what’s your favourite snack from the cafe?” Scarlet held a fountain pen in her hand, ready to write. Yvie didn’t need to look at the notepad to know her handwriting was beautiful, a piece of art next to her own illegible scrawls.

“I don’t buy food here,” Yvie responded nonchalantly.

Scarlet popped the end of the pen in her mouth for a moment then let it rest back at the paper.

“You’ve never eaten anything here?” Scarlet questioned, clearly dissatisfied with Yvie’s answer.

“Nope. It’s far too expensive. I just buy my lunch at the off-license before I get the bus.”

“You know what I want you to say!” Scarlet whined. Yvie thought she would do great as a soap actress if the whole marketing thing never worked out for her. She had that dramatic flare mastered down to a tee. And the charming voice to match.

“I’m being honest.” Yvie half-chuckled. “I’m not a liar.”

“Well, I’m just gonna write cheesy nachos then!” Scarlet was trying her hardest to act serious but Yvie just about caught the quiver of her lip.

She wondered if Scarlet somehow knew about her love for cheesy nachos or if it was simply a wild coincidence, either way, she carried on to battle through the questions with Scarlet, praying that there weren’t many to go.

“Which party room is your favourite?” Scarlet still hadn’t lost her enthusiasm, despite having to write down three sarcastic answers as if they were genuine and completely make up new answers for another two so far.

“The volcano room. Normally older kids hire that out and they don’t make as much of a mess as the toddlers in the mermaid or the pirate one.”

Scarlet didn’t even bother to respond to that one, simply shaking her head at Yvie’s response.

“If you don’t like my honesty…” Yvie started, desperate to get back to the comfort of the park where she could swap spots with Jaida for an hour and bask in the comfort of the ball pit.

“I actually find it quite refreshing.” Scarlet gave an all-knowing smile.

Sometimes Yvie got scared that the girl was part-wizard and could see inside of her soul. After all, she knew which school Scarlet attended and she wouldn’t be shocked one bit if it was revealed to be some modern-day incarnation of Hogwarts (then again Yvie did kind of think that about any school with a tuition fee or Latin slogan, so she didn’t know how strongly her argument would stand).

“That’s weird,” she blurted back, unable to think of something quick and witty to say. Where was Brooke with her encyclopedia of shady comebacks when she needed her? Tempted to text her some form of a rant about the interview/ambush she decided against it, knowing Brooke had planned to spend the day with her new “almost-girlfriend” that she had picked up from the literal curb earlier that month.

“You’re weird.” Scarlet stood up, giving Yvie that smile yet again. Yvie knew it so well now that she should have been able to draw it by memory only she knew it would never be captured just right. Not even with all the pencils and canvases and colours that the rainbow had to offer.

She didn’t even try to come up with a comeback to that one.

“Now for the photoshoot!” Scarlet grinned, opening the door for the pair of them.

“Photoshoot?” Yvie’s head whipped around and fired red laser-beams at the girl from her eyes. There had been absolutely no mention of a photoshoot.

“Follow me, my muse.”

***

“Are you doing homework?” Scarlet craned her neck, making out Yvie’s hunched over figure behind the big coffee machine.

“Sorry.” Yvie stood up straight and made her way to the front of the counter, her brown eyes a little droopy compared to normal. Scarlet knew Yvie always played the ‘I hate my life and don’t want to be here’ game at work regularly, but this time was different.

If she were anyone else in the world Scarlet would have pulled her into a great big cuddle. But she wasn’t. She was Yvie. And Yvie hated her.

Most of the time Scarlet didn’t mind that Yvie hated her, she found it quite amusing winding her up and seeing her face scrunch up in frustration. She knew that her confidence didn’t always rub well with people but she’d always told herself that anyone who didn’t want to live in that world with her was simply missing out. Only sometimes she wished things were a bit different at the centre.

She guessed it was one of those days.

“No need to say sorry to me, I’m not paying you!” Scarlet made her way around the back of the cafe and entered. This was something she’d withheld from doing whenever Yvie was stationed there, after their first Coke Zero incident (which she, for the record, actually found quite funny), but the urge simply pulled her and when the urge took control, Scarlet’s will power was nowhere to be seen.

“Is this History?” Scarlet held the papers close to her face. She’d never suited her glasses and had made the executive decision not to wear them around the centre. This was probably some sort of safety hazard considering the fact there were kids jumping around left, right and centre that she was supposed to be constantly observing, but she simply pretended this thought had never even crossed her little air-head brain. Scarlet knew that it never hurt to look good. After all, you never know who could be sneaking glances at you through the gaps in the slush machines.

Scarlet knew exactly who was sneaking glances at her through the gaps in the slush machines. The constant squinting was worth it.

“I really am sorry. I’ve just been really busy and I’m trying to get all my references for Uni but-” Yvie started but stopped to serve a customer. Scarlet heard her voice waver slightly when she asked if she wanted a medium or large. It broke her heart into a thousand little pieces.

“Is it due soon?” Scarlet flicked through the questions. “I did this last term. My file is in my boot if you want me to get some notes out?”

“I don’t need your help.” Yvie took the papers from out of her hands and placed them back on the counter.

Scarlet knew that behind her constantly on-guard exterior there was a girl who just wanted to relax for a second and have fun. She caught her sometimes. Like the time Heidi queued the entirety of the Hercules soundtrack on their iPod and Yvie complained over the walkie talkie yet Scarlet saw her dancing to the songs in the back of the cafe when she thought no one could see (she may or may not have added I Won’t Say I’m In Love to her playlist that night). Or when Jaida fell into the big airbag and shouted at everyone to look away and Yvie released one of her big hearty laughs that managed to surprise Scarlet every time she heard it. She’d always try to catch Yvie’s face when the girls played their own version of Russian roulette with the bottles of cleaning spray that they thought no one else knew about, closing their eyes and spinning the nozzles then stopping to spray - Yvie dying with laughter every time the liquid spat on her jumper.

“If you’re stressed, I can help. You’re applying to somewhere really good aren’t you?”

“You don’t know everything, Scarlet. I told you already that I don’t need your help, I don’t need your special private school notes or whatever it is you pay to get taught.”

It stung. Those weren’t Scarlet’s intentions at all. But she knew how they must have come across.

“That’s okay.” She grabbed some cans of pop from the back and started to stack the fridge. “Just letting you know that the staff room is really dirty and someone needs to clean it.”

“What?” Yvie turned to face her. “Pri cleaned it yesterday.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to clean it again.” Scarlet made a point of looking at the camera in the corner that she knew her dad would glance at from his office every half an hour. “I’ll watch the cafe while you do it. And take those papers with you.”

“Do you even know how to make a coffee?” Yvie caught on, grabbing her notes and a roll of cloth for show.

“Oh my god. Yes, I go to private school but I’m not Paris Hilton! I can watch the cafe for half an hour.”

“Sorry.” Yvie smiled as she left. “And thank you. Really, thank you.”

And Scarlet felt that thank you deep in her bones, one she’d keep saved somewhere to replay on a day when she felt lonely. Only she began to think that Yvie should’ve taken the thank you back when she realised that she should have absolutely not been trusted to watch the cafe for half an hour.

Scarlet knew she wasn’t the best “employee” they had, spending most of her days taking photos, making social media posts and chatting with the little ones when they were done playing. But she didn’t know how quite bad she was until she had burned two toasties, overcharged at least five customers and accidentally poured one woman’s change into her cup of tea instead of her hand.

Maybe she should stick to Instagram.

She tried her hardest to help, cleaning the toastie machine as best as she could before Yvie returned but she knew that she had messed things up, creating more jobs on top of the ones Yvie already had to do when closing the cafe.

“Are you nearly done?” Scarlet heard her Dad ask Yvie later on as he prepared to lock up for the night.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to cash up the till. There are a few discrepancies I need to try and fix.” Yvie didn’t even look up from the tablet, punching numbers into the digital counter with frustration.

“I’ve got my car.” Scarlet blurted before she knew what she was saying. “I’ll help Yvie and lock up here when she’s done. Get yourself away, Dad.”

Scarlet looked at her phone, full of notifications from the girls’ chat: Naomi telling everyone what booze she was going to bring, Plastique asking what they were all wearing, Pearl waking up from the longest of naps to tell everyone she’d be an hour late. She didn’t read them all properly, sending a quick message before popping her phone back in her pocket:

‘I’ll be late tonight. Don’t wait on me xx’

It was the least she could have done.

They were silent for a while, the two of them all alone in the big airy building, the main lights switched off with only the small ones at the top of the cafe kiosk to help them see.

Scarlet did her best to help, double-checking Yvie had counted the piles of coins properly whilst she fiddled around the tablet. She figured that maybe silence was better for them, she couldn’t annoy Yvie with her dramatic exclamations and Yvie wouldn’t bombard her with unsought “honest opinions”.

Until that silence was broken with a bang, echoing through the darkness and causing Scarlet’s entire body to leap out of her skin.

Yvie didn’t even quiver.

“What the fuck was that?” She asked Scarlet, her thick eyebrows raised as she peered towards the soft play.

“That doesn’t normally happen?” Images of axe-wielding lunatics stowed away inside the slides flashed through Scarlet’s mind.

“Funnily enough, it doesn’t,” Yvie responded, still as sarcastic as ever in times of panic. “Put your phone light on.”

Scarlet didn’t really want to go and inspect the noise but she also didn’t want to wait in the cafe alone. She knew she was the perfect damsel in distress, axe murders would love her! Trying her best not to be a baby, she followed by Yvie’s side with her phone light guiding their path.

“What if there’s a bomb?” Scarlet placed a hand on her chest and felt Yvie stop next to her. “One of those ones with a remote control that detonates it!”

“You think someone planted a bomb in our play area? And waited to detonate it when no one was around other than me and you?” Scarlet knew Yvie was rolling her eyes as she spoke despite not being able to see her. “I honestly don’t understand how your brain works sometimes.”

“You love me really,” Scarlet responded without thought as they turned another corner. It was an automatic response she often used to her friends when they made fun of her, it felt weird saying it to Yvie. With anyone else, she would have brushed it off, but with Yvie it was different.

And then Yvie gasped.

Before Scarlet knew it her hand was in the other girl’s. It was automatic. She got a shock and Yvie was there. A patch of her hand turned cool where Yvie’s ring pressed against it.

“What was it?” She asked a second later, her brain too caught up with why her hand was gripping tightly onto Yvie’s hand and why Yvie hadn’t pushed her off to actually know what Yvie had reacted to.

“Nothing.” The hearty laugh came back. It was almost comforting in the darkness. “Just wanted to see how you reacted.”

‘Well there you go,’ Scarlet thought to herself as she looked down to their hands, not quite brave enough to say it out loud.

And then Yvie started to laugh, a noise Scarlet would never ever get used to.

“There’s your bomb.” Her hand slipped out of Scarlet’s and pointed in front of them, the remnants of a big silver helium balloon on the floor. “Good job I was here to protect you from that.”

Before she knew it they were back at the till, fixing each of Scarlet’s mistakes and counting out their float for the next day. They worked relatively well together, only managing to butt heads once more when Scarlet suggested they write out a whole new balance sheet instead of scribbling out a mistake and writing the new number next to it as Yvie wanted. She let it go in the end, her phone vibrating in her pocket with texts from the girls a constant reminder that she had a little red dress with her name on it waiting at home.

“Guess I’ll see you later,” Yvie murmured as they left the building, pacing down the road as Scarlet fumbled with the keys. She was a racehorse in the rain, taking her steps twice as fast as the average human as if the building was on fire.

“Where are you going?” Scarlet had to shout after her, half expecting Yvie to ignore her and keep walking anyway.

“Home?” She stopped up the road for a second and turned around. “Now if you don’t mind I have a bus I’m about to miss.”

About to insist she got in the car, Yvie was already far in the distance, slipping out of Scarlet’s vision in the rain by the time the doors were fully locked. Maybe wearing her glasses would have been useful after all.

Cringing as the puddles splashed up her legs, Scarlet ran to her car as fast as she could, throwing her phone onto the passenger seat and taking off down the road. Thankfully it didn’t take her long to catch Yvie, her dark hair poking out through her hoodie and already scraggly with rain.

“Hey!” She pulled up into the bus stop. “Get in, I’ll take you home.”

“What are you a stalker?” Yvie raised her arms in the air. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“You’re going to freeze.”

“The bus will be here any minute.”

Scarlet knew she should have just given in and turned around but she felt the guilt for their late departure weighing on her shoulders.

“Look Yvie-” Scarlet started but was cut off by a loud beeping behind her, just making out an angry bus driver in her rearview mirror.

“Move or it’ll drive past!” Yvie cried at her, the usual monotone of her voice rising in pitch.

“Sorry, what was that?” Scarlet attempted some humour, grinning from ear to ear as the bus pulled away. “Oops! Guess you’ll just have to have a nice warm lift instead of getting the bus with a load of drunkards.”

Yvie didn’t speak at first, simply pulling the car door open and plonking herself down, arms folded like a huffy toddler. But as Scarlet began to follow the directions she gave it was almost as if the other girl couldn’t help herself from falling back into their usual rapport of snide remarks and winding each other up.

“So do you always kidnap people in your Fiat 500 or is this something new for you?”

If this were any other member of staff, Scarlet knew she’d call them ungrateful but it was almost like her brain had learned a new language with Yvie, acknowledging and adapting to the different way she showed her emotions.

“You’re welcome.” Scarlet turned the heating up a notch, hearing the chatter of Yvie’s teeth between words. “And this isn’t even a Fiat 500.”

“Apologies,” Yvie responded. She was the difference between rudeness and bluntness that Scarlet figured many people couldn’t see, always honest and unbashful but never actually impolite.

Scarlet’s phone rang three times on their way to Yvie’s house and she didn’t even try to answer.

“Thanks for the lift,” Yvie whispered as Scarlet pulled up to the curb, the lights all turned off in the semi-detached next to them. “Even if you did leave me no other choice.”

Scarlet released a sigh and smiled at the return of the girl’s cynical side.

“There’s the Yvie, I know. Thought I’d lost you, being nice to me for a second!”

“Yeah well, you caught me on an off day.” She gathered her things and opened the door. “Don’t go telling anyone I went soft on you, I have a reputation to uphold.”

And she was up the path before Scarlet could think of a response, leaving her a baffling mess of feelings who couldn’t help but hear a certain laugh bouncing around inside the car even when she turned the music up loud and tried to distract herself from Yvie.

A distraction technique she had to use after every shift for a month.

Scarlet had never planned for the lifts to become part of her routine, it just sort of happened. She told herself that she wouldn’t have let one of the girls from school or her younger sister ever wait in the rain for the bus so it was common sense not to let Yvie do that either. After a little while of Scarlet ranting about how it was safer and faster for Yvie to go home with her instead of catching the bus every time they left work together, Yvie stopped trying to argue and simply started hopping in the passenger seat. Of course, she did this in the most classic of Yvie fashions and told Scarlet she was only agreeing so she didn’t have to listen to her whiney speeches about the dangers of the dark every night but it made Scarlet feel better still. Even if she did receive an average of three sarcastic responses to her comments each time.

Slowly but surely, the eggshell around Yvie began to peel away. Scarlet discovered through blunt replies Yvie loved learning about international relations and global conflict, that she wanted to go to Uni to study them despite the high offer and the money that went with the dream. Despite the fact that only one per cent of the campus she wanted to be a part of was black. Ignoring that her teacher had told her to play things safer.

Yvie was real and passionate and thriving and everything Scarlet admired.

Yes, she was still the same sarcastic self she always was behind the cafe counter but she was even more than that underneath the fluorescent lights in Scarlet’s car. A small chunk of the divide between them had been left at the bus stop in the rain while they basked in the warm air shooting out of the vents.

Scarlet was hesitant to call Yvie a friend, they didn’t really chat and gossip - as she did with Plastique, Naomi and Pearl - and when they did at least half of their conversation was made up of insults but Scarlet liked it. Yvie was a refreshing change from the girls she was surrounded with every day at school and Scarlet wanted to drink that in as much as she could. Even if Yvie did still hate her.

In fact, Yvie had started to use those exact words as a regular comeback to Scarlet’s dramatics, rolling her eyes to match.

“Would you hate me if we stop for food before I drop you off?” Scarlet asked one night. “I’m honestly starved.”

“I already hate you, don’t think food would change that.” Yvie laughed.

That fucking laugh.

Scarlet hoped she only-half meant it. But she never really knew for sure.

Making their way into the food chain, Scarlet’s mind was too consumed with the thought of what she was going to order to even realise that her friends were there until she heard her name.

“Hey, sweets.” Naomi smiled from the table. “I thought you were at your Dad’s work?”

“We were just on the way home and I got hungry.” Scarlet motioned to Yvie, stood almost a step behind her.

“Who’s this?” Plastique asked, raising a perfectly shaped brow.

Opening her mouth to speak, Scarlet’s brain went blank for a second. She obviously wanted to tell the girls about Yvie but never knew what to say, she didn’t even know what they were herself nevermind having to explain it to them.

How do you say, ‘this girl works for my Dad and I drive her home every night whilst we listen to Lady Gaga in almost complete silence except for when she insults me because she maybe hates me or I try to get on her nerves because I maybe fancy her,’ in a clear and concise way?

“Erm, this is…” She tried to start but was stopped by Yvie herself.

“I’ll go order our food.”

“Oh,” Scarlet turned, pulling her purse from her pocket. “Here let me pay.”

“It’s fine.” Yvie turned her back. “I guess I owe you a lot of petrol money anyway.”

Her words struck Scarlet a little different. They lacked any emotion, spoken from dead eyes and a stern face. She relived those words a lot in the next few weeks, popping into her head again at the most random of times. For they were the last words she heard Yvie speak for a while, ignoring any effort Scarlet made to chat, even when she gave her perfect opportunities to poke fun at her like bringing up her house team at school or her sister’s upcoming dance recital (Scarlet knew how much humour Yvie found in the fact that their names were just stupid ways of saying red and yellow and normally laughed whenever Scarlet even mentioned Lemon).

“I won’t be able to give you a lift home next week.” She’d told her as they pulled up to Yvie’s house, ready to explain that Pearl had bought them tickets to a theatre show and it started too early. But Yvie hopped out of the car before she could even finish, leaving Scarlet with even more confusion about how the girl felt.

Because Yvie was still Yvie after all. And Scarlet realised after that particular journey that it would take a lot more than a few rides home to get them anywhere close to being classed as friends.

An observation in Scarlet’s mind that only grew stronger over the weeks following, especially when she decided it would be okay to join everyone on one of their regular staff nights out. A decision tinged with regret as soon as she entered the pub.

“Dress was a big mistake!!!! Huge !!! xx” Scarlet texted her teenage sister aggressively from under the table as if it would somehow fix her situation.

Excited to hit the town with everyone from the centre, she’d spent all day getting prepped and ready, letting Lemon paint her nails as they pondered over what she should wear. Eventually, they’d settled on a shimmery gold Oh Polly number she’d worn to Naomi’s birthday the year prior, her jewellery matching just right.

Only that didn’t matter once she arrived, riving her necklace from her throat as soon as she saw the rest of the staff. With all the other girls in bodysuits and trainers, she was the definition of overdressed and out of place.

It started small at first, hearing someone whisper something including the word “Daddy” as she made her way to the tables, one of the girls from the front desk asking her if she was gonna be getting the rounds in all night.

“Scarlet, come sit here!” Heidi had waved at her over, allowing for a second to catch her breath.

Only her nerves didn’t go away once she joined their booth. In fact, they only grew larger when she caught Yvie’s gaze, her eyes wide at Scarlet in a face she’d never quite seen the girl make before. She’d fought hard to ignore it, but her eyes couldn’t stop from glancing back every few seconds, wondering what it was exactly that Yvie’s face was speaking into the universe around them.

Knowing Yvie it was probably something along the lines of ‘What the fuck is the primadonna doing here in that dress’ but she didn’t know for sure, trying her best to join in their conversation and catch the familiar side of the other girl she’d caught glimpses of over the past few months.

“So, whose ID are you using?” Scarlet asked her in an effort to make conversation, having learnt from the walkie talkies that Heidi was usually Yvie’s go-to girl when she went out with her other friends, despite them looking nothing alike.

“Here.” Yvie slid it across the table for Scarlet to examine, the other girls in the booth taking a look too.

“I know her!” Jaida exclaimed. “Chile, I did her prom makeup a couple years ago.”

“Perks of Brooke’s new girlfriend. I now have black friends that aren’t you guys I can borrow ID from. Not the best though, it’s a good job they never actually look properly.”

“Wait.” Priyanka raised two hands in the air. “You’re telling me that your gal Brooke has an official girlfriend? I thought they were just fucking about, damn!”

“Oh, not this again!” Heidi joined in. “We get it, Pri. You got together once and she didn’t remember your name. Move on!”

Scarlet checked her phone to see if her sister had replied but saw nothing, resorting to scrolling through her own photo album and reshuffling her apps so she didn’t look left out. Listening to the girls continue to gossip about people she didn’t know, Scarlet began to question the friendships she’d made at the centre, little voices in her head telling her that none of them would ever like her enough to open up and gossip with her as they did with one another.

For as long as she remembered she had always been confident, never caring what others thought of her. But as she started to gulp her drink down faster than normal, Scarlet felt that confidence slip away more and more. She was so far out of her comfort zone she couldn’t have made it back on a giant jet plane at full speed. And Yvie’s big brown eyes taking stolen glances at her didn’t make any of it better.

“It’s okay, Pri.” Jaida’s voice pulled Scarlet back into their conversation. “At least Yvie remembered your name when you two got with each other!”

“Oh, fuck off!” Yvie slammed her glass onto the table at the same time Scarlet spat some of her drink back into her own.

What an elegant lady she was.

She’d always just assumed that Yvie was into girls too. There was just something about hearing it for real that made Scarlet’s central nervous system stop working for a second, starting again with a scare.

“That was one time,” Priyanka cried from the opposite side of the booth, thankfully oblivious of Scarlet’s reaction.

Only someone wasn’t as oblivious. Someone was looking right at her and sending every thought, every feeling, every fear inside of Scarlet into overdrive.

***

Yvie wasn’t a stranger to awful dancing. After all, she had been friends with Nina for the majority of life, the girl whose feet were built of hard oak and desperation.

But this was something different altogether.

Watching Scarlet across the dance floor, the phrase ‘Bambi on ice’ brought a whole new meaning to Yvie. If she wasn’t so mad at her she’d go over herself, give the girl a twirl and watch as she missed every beat like she had no cares in the world. Only that wasn’t the case, because mad Yvie certainly was.

Yvie didn’t know why she felt so hurt, it wasn’t like they were friends? It wasn’t like she even liked Scarlet? But something about having to stand there while she scrambled for an explanation of who she was to her privately educated, life’s not fair, acrylic nailed girl gang made Yvie’s blood boil. And she’d never admitted it but she may have even shed a tear or two once her blinds were shut and she couldn’t see the not-Fiat 500 and the annoying girl who drove it.

To think she’d started to believe that she was only fifty-five per cent sure of her hatred.

“Staring much?” She could hear the raise of Heidi’s brow in her words as she spoke to her ear, the loud bass around them not heavy enough to drown out the accusation in her friend’s voice.

Yvie couldn’t even deny it, for she’d been staring at Scarlet from the moment she’d walked into the pub earlier. Of course, she’d stalked the girl’s Instagram enough to know what Scarlet looked like dressed up, rolling her eyes at the dumb self-indulgent captions that were always attached to her selfies. Only it was different in person, a mix of gold and warmth and beauty and envy that made Yvie want to snap a pencil in half (she settled for a paper straw instead which certainly did not give the same level of relief). She’d watched as Scarlet ripped a necklace from her neck earlier and longed to put it back on for her, taking her time to hook it on the right loop so that it would hang perfectly above her collarbone.

She tried to fixate on the memory of Scarlet squealing every time they went over the speed bumps outside of their work to give herself the ick. Only that image had become entwined with one of Scarlet getting out the car one night to help a cat out of the road and Yvie only felt more confused.

“I’m just judging her dancing abilities,” Yvie lied.

She knew it was a lie. Heidi, who once confidently believed that Jaida had found a ghost in the dodgeball cupboard, knew it was a lie. The whole club knew it was a lie just from Yvie’s expression. Did lying count as breaking your streak of tough love and honesty if you wanted to believe you were telling the truth so badly? Is lying even lying if it’s yourself you’re lying to? Yvie didn’t know. All she knew was that red and gold looked so good together it should have been illegal. Only it was herself breaking the law when her eyes met Scarlet’s again, holding for a second before she turned to walk away.

The songs all blurred into one once Scarlet was gone, Yvie’s brain out of focus. That was until she was snapped back by a familiar squark pulling her away from her work friends.

“Hey, Yvie! Or should I say Akeria tonight?” Vanessa grinned, a loved-up Brooke with her arm around the other girl’s waist.

“Thanks again.” Yvie tapped her nose, grateful for Brooke’s new relationship and the new friends that had come with it. “I owe you a drink.”

“So where is she then?” Brooke piped up, straight to the point and not wasting time with any cordial greetings on her best friend.

“Priyanka?” Yvie squinted in confusion for a second, wondering why Brooke wanted to see a girl she had previously hooked up with and usually refused to speak about when all she’d talked about for the past few months was how excited she was every Wednesday night to eat special chicken stew and watch soap operas that she pretended to hate at Vanessa’s house.

“No!” Brooke raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes leaping to Vanessa for a split second. “Ja’mie Private School Girl. I wanna see her in person.”

“Oh.” Yvie’s brain slotted the pieces together. Had she really complained about Scarlet that much?

“Is this the girl you always ragin’ about?” Vanessa joined in.

Okay, maybe she did complain about Scarlet too much.

“I’m not sure where she’s at.” She brushed them off, the memory of Scarlet telling her she couldn’t take her home anymore after seeing her friends tinging Yvie sharply, her face starting to flush. “I’m gonna go to the loo but I’ll get you that drink later?”

“Noted.” Brooke pointed a finger, the sound of their voices carrying as Yvie ran desperately to splash her face with some cold water.

Only she never quite made it to the sink, the sight of an upset red-head stopping her as soon as she entered the toilets.

Yvie went to speak but wasn’t given a chance.

“Go away.” Scarlet’s voice wavered as she knelt down, pulling jackets out from under the couch like they were infested.

“I can’t believe you didn’t pay for the cloakroom.” Yvie joined her on the carpet. “Out of character for you.”

“I said go away.” She turned her head to Yvie, her bloodshot eyes living up to her name.

Yvie felt the sudden urge to scoop Scarlet in her arms and cradle her there till the music stopped and the lights turned off and there was no one left in the building. She felt a need she never knew existed.

“Hey. It’s alright, I can help you…”

But Scarlet had already found her jacket and started racing out of the club as though her life depended on it.

“For fuck sake, Scarlet.” Yvie reached for her arm once they were outside, the cold air penetrating through her bodysuit and making her long for the comfort of her bed at home. “Just talk to me.”

She turned, her face illuminated under the street lamps, full of anger and sadness and perhaps a tinge of pain too.

“Why do you want to talk to me? You hate me.”

“I don’t.” Yvie squeezed her arm slightly and looked her in the eyes to try and show that she meant it. Because sometimes her words failed her and she struggled to sound sincere when in her mind she was, so she had to rely on her actions. All she had at that moment was a gentle squeeze to try and show Scarlet that she meant it. She didn’t hate her. She didn’t know when that had changed or if she’d really hated her in the first place but at that moment she was one-hundred per cent certain, the feeling was nothing like hatred.

Scarlet scoffed and pulled away, tapping her phone furiously with her nails. “You tell me you hate me nearly every day I spend with you.”

Yvie tried to argue back but Scarlet was on a mission, waving her hands in the air when she spoke.

“And if you’re not doing that then you’re bitching about me through the walkie talkies. Or giving me dirty looks. I try my best to pass it off and rise above it Yvie but tonight I just can’t anymore, I just want to live and breathe without you looking at me like I’ve shot Bambi’s mother. Like what did I even do to you?”

‘Everything,’ Yvie thought only it came out as a blunt “nothing” instead. “You’re the one that was embarrassed to be seen with me in public.”

“I wasn’t embarrassed, Yvie. Sorry it took me a minute to try and think of something other than ‘a girl I drive around even though she hates me.’” Scarlet kept taking glances between the road and her phone, not meeting Yvie’s eyes. “Or doesn’t hate me, apparently. And I just had plans after our next shift.”

Without knowing what she was doing, Yvie reached out to grab her hand, slipping her fingers through Scarlet’s and clasping like they had done the day Scarlet was scared by the balloon. Scarlet was right. Maybe she was too fast to jump to conclusions. She was up in the sky leaping on the trampolines at work whilst Scarlet was grounded by the cafe, taking herself to a whole new narrative that didn’t really exist. In other words, she’d fucked it.

“I don’t hate you.” Yvie expected Scarlet to let go. She didn’t.

“Well, you don’t act like it.”

But her hand didn’t leave, Yvie had hope. Not a lot, just a slither like the piece of Scarlet’s hair that stayed in front of her face when she pushed the rest back. But it was still hope, it was still something.

“Please just let me explain.” Yvie tried to make Scarlet understand.

She’d spent years trying to dial and change how she spoke. If the black girl in the class raised her voice then she was angry but if she didn’t put up a fight with her words then nobody would take her seriously. All she wanted was to be honest, but the words were flying around her head and wouldn’t stop to land. And then Scarlet’s Uber started to pull up and they were going even faster. Scarlet turned to look at her and Yvie watched as she opened her mouth for a second but no words came out, her eyes frustrated and begging Yvie to fix things.

She waited for the rejection, for Scarlet to push her away as she moved closer, for her to call Yvie crazy and jump in the car, ready to make her time at work even more of a living hell than she already did. But as her lips met Scarlet’s, it never came.

“Your Uber.” Yvie pulled away slightly, their faces only an inch apart and Scarlet gasping for breath. She could feel Scarlet’s sticky gloss on her own lips but didn’t dare wipe at it, wanting the moment to go on like that for as long as it could.

“I guess I’ve gotten used to riding in the car with someone.” Scarlet took her hand again once the car pulled up, their eyes communicating in their own language that Yvie didn’t have the words to explain.

Yvie pulled her phone out to text the girls and tell them she’d headed home, dropping another one to home with an excuse for staying out, feeling Scarlet on her neck as they clambered into the backseat. They didn’t speak for a short while, Yvie simply placed her arm around Scarlet’s shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she hadn’t spent months terrified of making contact with her.

“I thought you couldn’t stand me,” Scarlet whispered in her ear, her hand burning hot on Yvie’s thigh.

Suddenly Scarlet’s flair for the dramatics was wiped clean from her mental list of things that irked her, replaced accordingly with the concept of clothing, more specifically jeans. Her jeans, that she regretted spending a lot of money on - wishing she’d settled for the paper-thin pair Nina had told her to get from Primark instead. In fact, she’d have paid more for the thin pair right then. Paid anything for Scarlet’s hand to live there just a little bit longer. Yvie let the back of her head hit the seat, lost in the moment until they pulled up to Scarlet’s house.

“We’ll have to be careful,” Scarlet spoke after unlocking the door. “My sister’s home.”

“Does noise even travel here?” Yvie looked around the foyer only half-joking, stopping to chuckle at a big photo of Scarlet and her sister as kids. “Adorable.”

“If you’re loud enough.” Scarlet raised a brow and motioned for Yvie to follow her upstairs, sending tingles through her body at her words.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be the one who needs to worry about keeping quiet.” Yvie let Scarlet lead her to her room, throwing themselves down on the four-poster almost immediately.

It felt weird finally being in Scarlet’s room after spending so long of interacting at work. She couldn’t say she hadn’t pictured it, often imagining Scarlet painting her toes on top of magazines or picking out her outfit each morning. Too distracted to get a proper look at all the photo frames and trinkets around, Yvie made a mental note to make a joke the next day about how she’d always assumed Scarlet had one of those grey crushed velvet headboards like the girls on Twitter.

It was crazy how something could feel so wrong and so right at the same time. Scarlet’s body pressing into her own, it was so insane yet made complete sense. She felt familiar.

Before she knew it Scarlet’s thumb was rubbing over the fabric of her bodysuit, teasing at her nipple through the lace.

Yvie had never been more grateful for her decision not to wear a bra.

“Are you sure you want this?” Scarlet asked her, pausing in her movement to look Yvie in the eyes and confirm. “We can’t go back.”

Yvie knew what she meant, thinking of all the shifts she’d have to spend with her, pinning Scarlet’s new promotional posters around the park, being watched to make sure she placed them in the exact right spots. She’d be unavoidable. But Yvie didn’t care.

“I’ve wanted this ever since you stole a Coke Zero from the cafe.”

Apparently, that was all Scarlet needed, taking the opportunity to smash her lips against Yvie’s, letting their bodies melt into each other. Again and again and again until Yvie was weak with fatigue and let her head hit the pillow one final time. Her vision blurred, she could just make out Scarlet’s figure among all of the stars as the girl switched off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed beside her. They hadn’t just shaken the earth but the whole solar system too, galaxies swirling around the room and lulling Yvie to sleep.

A sleep she’d have happily basked in forever if she hadn’t woken with a jolt the next morning, the sun beaming through the blinds to cast light on the empty side of the bed next to her.

“Morning,” Scarlet’s spoke from across the room, wearing a pair of glasses that Yvie had never seen before as she looked up from the papers at her desk. Yvie suddenly understood Scarlet’s constant examining gaze - she wasn’t scanning Yvie’s insides for error codes, just a tad bit blind.

Grabbing her phone from the bedside, a groan escaped Yvie’s mouth as she saw the time, of course, Scarlet was awake at nine in the morning after a night out. After what Yvie would estimate to be at least two hours of sex. Kind of intense sex. If it hadn’t been for Scarlet’s pretty face and messy hair then Yvie would have snatched the nearest pillow and thrown it over her head, instead, keeping an eye open to watch her whilst fighting exhaustion.

She wondered how long it would take them to address it. In the past, Yvie had never felt awkward discussing a hookup, giving a compliment or laughing it off as a drunken mishap like she had with Priyanka that time. The thought crossed her mind for a second, thinking she could make a joke about how smashed they were before ringing Brooke to take her home as fast as she could but Yvie decided against it. If Yvie was anything then Yvie was honest. And she knew what happened was not a drunken mistake. At least not on her end, she didn’t know if the same could be said for Scarlet, sat twiddling her pen around in her hand as though Yvie wasn’t lying in her bed and her gold dress wasn’t in a heap on the floor, thrown there in a moment of passion. Looking at it made her laugh, thinking of how fast she’d gone from describing Scarlet’s whining as the human equivalent of a dog whistle wit Jaida, to finding herself turned on by it. Scarlet must have noticed her looking, placing the pen down.

“I think you owe me a new zipper for that.” She pointed to the dress, raising a brow at Yvie.

“Sorry, I’ll take it to get fixed.” Yvie went to step out of bed before realising her own clothes were just as haphazardly spread as Scarlet’s.

“I’m kidding,” Scarlet smiled. “I’ll get you some joggers to borrow.”

“You own tracksuit bottoms?” Yvie fake gasped as Scarlet pulled open a drawer, surprising herself at how quickly they returned to their usual exchanges. There she was making fun of Scarlet for being all posh and dramatic, it was like nothing had changed. Except she was in Scarlet’s bed. Naked. And they’d had sex. Maybe a lot had changed.

“Oh my god, I just got it.” Scarlet pointed a finger to Yvie and let out one of her classic giggles. “That is hilarious.”

“What is?” Yvie pulled the clothes Scarlet had given her on quickly, automatically ready with her defence.

“That face you always pull at me! I honestly thought it was just your expression of pure hatred at my being but it’s not, you were eyeing me up!”

Yvie stifled a laugh at Scarlet’s hysteria, her cheeks turning the slightest bit red. “I don’t pull a face at you.”

“You so do. Like this.” Scarlet did her best to impersonate her.

“I don’t do that. And I don’t eye you up either, you’re so annoying.”

“Want me to prove you do?” Scarlet flipped the conversation and caught Yvie off guard.

She hadn’t expected round two to come at all nevermind that fast, but she most certainly wasn’t mad at it.

The same could have also been said for round three, which happened around a week later when Yvie just so happened to take her lunch break at the same time as Scarlet, following her out to her car and letting Scarlet drive a couple of minutes to somewhere more secluded. The sun beamed down through the windscreen and glistened on Scarlet’s pale skin as they moved together rapidly, the pair already becoming familiar with the little easter eggs that made each other tick.

“Ten minutes to spare, wow.” Yvie checked the time on her phone, allowing herself to lie back in as much comfort as she could given that she was in the back of a rather tiny car with a rather tall girl by her side.

“What are we doing?” Scarlet sat up, hitting her head slightly on the roof but not acknowledging it, a trait Yvie had picked up on before having watched Scarlet’s clumsy legs take many tumbles around the centre only for her to keep walking like it hadn’t happened (Yvie always found this funnier than the fall itself, especially that one time it was a running child that sent Scarlet tumbling, utterly priceless).

“Erm, lying in the back of your car trying to remember how to breathe?” Yvie knew it wasn’t the answer she was looking for but gave it nonetheless.

“No. This, us. What is this?”

Yvie wished she knew the answer. At first, she didn’t know how to approach her, bringing the borrowed clothes to work in a carrier bag ready to return, only to be left silent once Scarlet came to the counter to fulfil her caffeine addiction that day. But Scarlet managed to break the ice, making a subtle joke about her lack of regret as she took the bottle from Yvie’s hand. It was bittersweet - Yvie knew there was a clear distinction between having no regrets and wanting to do something again, and she was at least seventy per cent sure she wanted to do it again. Ninety-nine once the opportunity had finally risen again, Scarlet dangling her car keys in front of Yvie like the forbidden fruit of Eden. An apple she couldn’t help but take a bite from, no matter how much it would bite her back later.

So Yvie thought about her answer, she didn’t want to get this one wrong. The natural answer was that they were friends, only Yvie knew they weren’t. They were less than friends, they didn’t chat and gossip like friends and frankly she couldn’t stand Scarlet most of the time, the chatting and gossiping with her actual friends at work usually revolving around that fact. Yet they were also so much more, Yvie’s eyes followed the girl wherever she went like she was being guided home and her heart had just about snapped in two when she saw Scarlet upset.

Maybe it wasn’t Scarlet she hated but instead the way she felt about her. Or the way she didn’t even understand what that feeling was. Perhaps that is what she’d hated all along.

“I don’t know.” Yvie stepped outside to straighten her uniform and move to the passenger seat.

“You don’t know?” Scarlet joined her in the front, slamming her door a tad too hard once her foot was inside. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“Well, do you?” Yvie retaliated.

“I’m the one who asked in the first place!”

As much as she wanted to, Yvie couldn’t deny she had a point there.

“Well whatever it is, I’m glad to see we disagree on it already,” Yvie replied as Scarlet started to drive back to work.

“You can take me on a date sometime if you’d like.” Scarlet let the words jump out of her mouth quickly just before the traffic lights turned green, acting completely casual and nonchalant just like she had after hitting her head as if nothing had happened at all.

“A date?” Yvie’s voice raised an octave higher than it should have.

“You know where two people who kind of fancy each other go and get food? It’s a pretty basic term, I thought you’d know seen as you’re crazy clever and going to the best University in the country.”

Yvie choked on her water and sent it flying down the wrong way, a mess of coughs and splutters next to Scarlet’s pristine self. It wouldn’t have been the worst way to die, at least she’d never feel the embarrassment afterwards and have the dignity of knowing she’d given the girl a good time just before.

“I haven’t gotten in yet.” Yvie’s mind was thrown away from the conversation and back to the impending doom of her University application. Thank god she always had Scarlet to remind her of the massive feat she was trying to achieve.

“You can say no if you want, I don’t care.” Scarlet pulled into the car park, not really caring that her wheels were at a forty-five-degree angle and only just within the lines.

Yvie thought of all the times she had come up with convoluted methods to avoid Scarlet’s presence after their first meeting, of that first day she’d been given a lift home and how much had changed since then. Scarlet was confident and sometimes lived on a different planet to Yvie altogether but that didn’t hide her warmth, her wit or the big smile that came on her face whenever she tried to dance. And as much as she was shocked by her own thoughts, Yvie couldn’t deny that an evening with that warmth, wit and smile was all she really needed to relieve her stress.

“Well, where would you like to go for food then?” Yvie asked her as they entered the building, ready to part ways until the end of the day.

“Sorry, you’ll have to come up with that one on your own.” Scarlet grinned. “And please don’t fuck it up, Yvie.”

#rpdr fanfiction #if we walk down this road #got my number #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #scyvie #lesbian au #sixth form au #high school au #british au #enemies to lovers #black girl magic fic #diversity fic #ashley #tw references to racism and racial sterotypes #concrit welcome

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yougoodfahm · 4 years

Text

Chapter 5 – Ping Pong and Recklessness

Auranis AU

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

Wordcount: 3005 words

Warnings: sibling arguing, let me know if I need to add more

Summary: After signing up for their new jobs, Roman and Remus attend their first Community Meeting where the particularly charismatic president really wows Remus. Later, Roman runs into Virgil and they hang out for a while during free time and dinner. Roman and Remus get into a small argument about recklessness and breaking the rules after only a few days in their new life.

Read it on ao3!

After breakfast the next day, Roman and Remus headed over to the Community Center. Roman glanced over to his brother who was walking beside him, and asked, “So, I know you said you were deciding between working in the Kitchen or on Maintenance, what did you end up choosing?”

Remus grinned wildly. “I’m gonna go with the Kitchen, they said they work with fire all the time!” Roman tried to smile supportively but he couldn’t hide his slight grimace. Remus and fires had always turned out poorly in the past, but hopefully he’d get some actual proper training so it wouldn’t result in too many accidents.

They walked inside the building and walked towards their retrospective booths. Each of the dozen or so booths from the day before were once again set up, this time without any reps and with tablets laying on each table, waiting for the new recruits. Roman headed over to the Crafters table and added his name to the list.

His eyes slid over towards the Greenhouse table briefly, but he snapped them back to his own booth as soon as he realized they had wandered. No, he was to be a Crafter. Maybe he’d be able to visit the Greenhouses or something, see those gorgeous plants and enchanting atmosphere again. But he reassured himself with the memory of how happy the workers in the Crafters Workshop had seemed when they had gone on the tour the day before. That would be him. That was where he was meant to go and where he was built to thrive.

Roman pulled his shoulders back and stepped away from the table to let someone else put their name down on the list. He gave a polite smile to the person before he turned to go make sure Remus had figured out what to do. Roman spotted his brother across the room, waiting for someone else to finish signing up.

Roman walked over and stood next to Remus, bumping his shoulder before he said, “Hey, rat. You just write your name on the next available line, by the way.”

Remus gave him a hard look and replied, “Yeah, I know, Roman. I could’ve figured that out myself.”

Roman was slightly taken aback before responding, “Oh, ok. Sorry. I just wanted to be sure.” Remus’s expression softened slightly as he glanced around to the couple of people milling around the Kitchen booth. Roman said, “Alright, well, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Roman backed away awkwardly and headed over to where about two dozen or so people had gathered in a group. They had all finished signing up for their new jobs and were now just waiting for the next part of orientation to get going. He found two other people who had also signed up to be Crafters and started chatting with them, though honestly at this point all this small talk was starting to blend together. He had only ever known a handful of people during his whole life before coming to Auranis, and there were almost no situations where one would just chat with a stranger. It was strange, luckily it wasn’t too hard, but it was getting a little exhausting.

After about ten minutes or so, nearly everyone had finished signing up and had joined the large group in the center of the room. All the signups would be processed throughout the day and the new citizens would start their first day of work the next day, which was a Monday. Then, there would be a couple of days of training and people would figure out which specialty would be a good fit for them if they had chosen a career with specialties.

After spending the majority of the day touring the third level and going to more orientation meetings, it was finally time for the new citizens to attend their first Community Meeting at five o’clock. They were all led back to the Community Center, which was now filled with a couple thousand chairs and many, many people getting ready to fill them.

The seats were pretty packed together so everyone was able to fit inside the space, and Roman was honestly amazed by how many people actually were able to be in that room at the same time. Basically everyone who lived in Auranis had to come to these Community Meetings each week, so there should be nearly five thousand people all seated in this huge room.

Roman and Remus found a seat towards the middle of the room, along with some other people from their orientation group that they had chatted with throughout the past couple of days. Once basically everyone was situated and the noise level in the room had lowered a bit, a fairly short man wearing a black hat and a nice blazer over a golden-colored vest and a dark shirt. He was also wearing some golden gloves that matched his vest, plus black pants and shoes. It all seemed unnecessarily fancy compared to everyone else dressed in t-shirts and pants, the occasional jacket or other clothing item.

The man cleared his throat, and the room fell silent. Roman glanced around in wonder. The man began, “Hello, everyone, and welcome to the new citizens who are joining us today for their first Community Meeting. I am President Janus, and one of the co-founders of Auranis. I am so glad to see all of you here today, and I hope everything has been satisfactory so far. Please do let us know if there’s anything we can help you with.”

Remus let out a small but reverent, “Woah,” as he listened to the man speak, seemingly entranced by his very presence.

Meanwhile, Roman couldn’t help but wonder who “we” was referring to. The man —President Janus, apparently— seemed a little too high-and-mighty to be personally taking constructive criticisms from the everyday citizen. He supposed that the Help Center was there, and the Community Council was intended to improve the community, but neither of them really seemed like the right place to bring any complaints that one might have. Regardless, he tried to clear his mind since it was pointless to think about that. He didn’t really have any issues yet, and he hoped that things would stay like that. Roman hoped that he would never need to figure out who “we” was referring to, if anyone.

Janus continued to address the crowd of intent listeners as he provided updates and reminders about various aspects of life in Auranis. Throughout his speech, Roman noticed Remus out of the corner of his eye, practically hanging onto every word. His wide eyes were trained so intensely on the stage in front of them, more focused than Roman had ever seen his brother before. Remus’s chin was propped up on one of his hands, his elbow balanced on his knee. His mouth hung open just slightly in a look of pure awe and admiration.

Roman nudged his brother with his elbow, posing an eyebrow raise in an attempt to ask what was up with him. Remus looked over at him with eyes that were positively filled with wonder. Almost… worship-like. He mouthed the words ‘He’s amazing,’ to Roman and then drew his eyes back towards the stage. A pit started to form in Roman’s stomach. Something just didn’t rub him the right way about this, but he couldn’t quite place what it was.

Nonetheless, Roman tried to once again clear his head for the remainder of the talk. When President Janus had finished and began to leave the stage, the crowd erupted suddenly into cheers, with Remus apparently trying to cheer the absolute loudest. Roman had to cover his ears as it became a bit too loud right next to him for his own comfort levels.

Roman shot a hard look at his brother, who just tilted his head and asked, “What?” Roman just shook his head slightly and looked away, not wanting to dampen Remus’s spirit too much. He didn’t technically have a reason to be upset at him, after all. Everything was fine. Everything should be great, actually. Everything WAS great.

All of the people slowly started to file out of the room towards all areas of the compound. Many people headed up to the first level for the hour of free time that most citizens had before dinner. Some people had to work, depending on their shifts, but the majority finished work at four o’clock.

Roman decided to head up to the Rec Center on the first level, following the crowds up the elevators. Remus had disappeared somewhere, and honestly Roman was kind of glad to not have to hear him ramble about either how great President Janus was or how much he liked Logan. Remus could just be a bit too invested in certain people, sometimes.

They had taken a tour of the first level the day before, but they had gone through the Rec Center so quickly that Roman hadn’t really been able to absorb what was in there and he wanted to check it out. When he reached the entrance, he started wandering around and looking at everything around him. There were a bunch of tables set up with chess sets and other board games, and some pool tables. In a side room there was a small-ish climbing wall along with some other exercise-type activities that seemed far more fun than the gyms in each of the blocks.

He went back into the main space and continued exploring. He saw some booth seating all along the far wall, and some other comfortable-looking chairs and beanbag cushions peppered throughout the room for people to relax in. Roman weaved between different activities, taking it all in as people started to fill the space.

As he reached a corner with some ping pong tables, he noticed a figure clad curled up in one of the beanbags nearby wearing all black. They were tucked around a book, apparently absorbed in its contents since they didn’t even notice Roman until he spoke aloud.

“Hey, Virgil! What’cha got there?”

Virgil nearly leapt out of their skin, almost decking Roman’s lower leg out of reflex. They quickly regained their composure and placed their book on the floor, trying to ignore Roman’s teasing laughter.

“Oh my god you scared me,” they said, running a hand through their hair which fell in loose waves around their shoulders rather than in their usual ponytail.

“Yeah, I kind of gathered that,” Roman chuckled, sitting down on the floor next to Virgil. “Though I should probably thank you for restraining yourself from bruising the hell out of my shins.”

Virgil rolled their eyes and Roman saw a slight grin tug at the edge of their mouth. “Oh, shut up,” they muttered.

Roman smiled and asked, “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question: what’cha got there?”

Virgil’s eyes lit up as they grabbed the book and showed the cover to Roman. “It’s my favorite book, actually. I’ve read all of this author’s books, and they’re all great, but this one is definitely the best in my opinion. You should totally read it sometime,” they said excitedly. Ok, clearly he had hit a jackpot with this conversation topic.

After the two of them talked for a little while about books and reading —a shared passion between them, thankfully— Roman remembered the rest of the room and came up with an idea. He sat up a little and asked, “Do you wanna play ping pong before we have to go down to dinner?”

Virgil nodded and agreed. Roman stood up and offered a hand to Virgil who was slightly struggling to get out of the beanbag chair, though they were clearly trying not to show it too much. They looked up at the proffered hand and after a moment of hesitation, took it. Roman pulled them to standing, and then stepped back and let go of their hand. Both of them smiled a little but glanced around awkwardly for a second before remembering what they had planned to do.

Roman led Virgil over to the closest ping pong table and grabbed one of the paddles and a ping pong ball from the center of the table while Virgil grabbed the other paddle. They played for about half an hour, talking a little here and there but mostly just focusing on the game and trying not to make fools of themselves in front of the other. Neither of them were particularly good at the game, but they both were good enough that it was pretty fun and had a twinge of competition.

At seven o’clock, both of their Motives beeped to remind them that dinner was starting. They put things back where they had found them, Virgil grabbed their book, and they headed downstairs with wide grins and slightly flushed faces.

Roman followed Virgil into the Dining Hall, they both got a rice dish with vegetables from one of the food stations and sat down at a table along one of the walls. The whole meal was filled with jokes, getting to know each other better, and eating the surprisingly good food. Roman was glad he had trusted Virgil’s taste, since getting the rice dish had been Virgil’s suggestion.

Although the conversation was certainly enjoyable, Roman still wanted to know so much more about the mysterious person sitting in front of him. They hadn’t really talked about anything super personal, staying fairly surface-level. Of course, Roman didn’t want to push them too much in case that made them uncomfortable or something, but that still didn’t stop his curiousness. He hoped that he would earn more insight eventually, that one day they’d feel comfortable enough with Roman to tell him more. One day at a time, though. Thinking too far ahead again, as usual.

Once dinner had wrapped up and they were walking towards C block, Roman asked if Virgil had anything planned for their free time in their block. Virgil gave a small smile and replied, “Yeah, actually, I have some stuff that I have to work on.”

Roman looked down at his hands and nodded, “Oh, ok, yeah that’s cool. We should hang out another time, then, if that’s ok with you?”

Virgil glanced over at Roman and said, “Yeah, that’s definitely ok with me.” They reached Virgil’s apartment and they said, “See you later, Roman,” as they ducked inside their apartment after casting a dazzling smile towards him. Roman trudged upstairs to his own apartment, which was pretty close by. He had hoped that they’d be able to hang out more, so now he wasn’t really sure what to do until he got tired.

When Roman opened his door, he was greeted by Remus… and Logan? They were sitting at the small table to the left of the room. “Hey, uh, what’s going on? Don’t you live in B Block? Won’t we get in trouble for you being in the wrong block?” he said in confusion, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it.

Logan chewed his lip slightly, looking slightly nervous as Remus replied happily, “Don’t worry about it! He can get back pretty easily since it’s just one block over.” Logan looked down at his hands which were folded on the table in front of him.

Roman paused to think for a moment. “Are you sure that’s ok? I really don’t want us to get in trouble. Or Logan, for that matter. Why can’t y’all just hang out tomorrow? It’s only our third day here and you’re already breaking rules again, Remus.” He started to feel stressed and began pacing between the door and the beds.

Remus just brushed off his concern with a careless flick of the hand and said, “If you’re gonna be so uptight about it, just go to the gym or something. Then if we get caught —which we won’t— you don’t have to be here for it.”

Roman glared at his reckless brother but decided that would be his best option so he quickly changed into his workout clothes in the bathroom. He knew that once Remus got stuck on an idea like this, there was no persuading him otherwise. It would be a wasted effort. He knew, because this was certainly not the first time something like this had happened. But it felt so different here. This was putting both of their entire futures in Auranis on the line, and for what? To hang out with Logan for a little bit more? First it started with this and then Roman knew it could only get worse from here.

He was seething as he stepped out into the room again, glaring daggers at Remus, his brother who was putting both of their lives in danger for something as silly as this. Remus rolled his eyes as Roman stomped out, shoving the door closed behind him.

Once he reached the block’s gym, he already started to feel a little better. The exertion from his workout also helped, and by the time he returned to the apartment about two hours later he just felt drained. No more anger. Probably. Maybe a tiny bit, but it was more towards the normal amount of anger he felt towards his brother.

When he got back inside, the lights were off and Remus was already asleep. Logan was gone, thankfully. Even though he seemed like a cool enough guy, Roman just didn’t want to put up with whatever was going on between him and Remus. It just felt really weird, and Roman wasn’t entirely sure why. He didn’t feel very sure of a lot of things lately, but that didn’t matter much right now.

Now, he needed to get plenty of beauty sleep so that tomorrow could be as wonderful as possible! It was his first day as a Crafter, and he could hardly wait. Pretty much as soon as Roman’s head hit the pillow he was out like a light, letting the grace of sleep fall over him.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

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findmeinpops · 4 years

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FindMeInPops’ 12 Days of Ficmas: Day Three - ‘You. Me. Snowman. Now.’

It’s that time of year again where I try to pump out a drabble or one-shot for each of the twelve days leading up to Christmas! I have a couple already written but some of them will be written by prompt and on request so bare with for any editing errors! Enjoy, my loves, and have a happy festive season :)

And a quick fyi for those who prefer AO3, my 2019 12 Days of Christmas collection is at this link and should be uploaded with an hour of this being posted.

Prompt: No. 32 - “You. Me. Snowman. Now.”, No. 52 - “Do you want to build a-” “Absolutely not.”

Ship(s): Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

Rating: T

CW(s): this has a slight, unintentional, dom-y tone but nothing even vaguely inappropriate

Reindeer Games: Vixen: Winter

@riverdalebingo : Free Space

“Hey.” Y/N prodded Sweet Pea in his sweater-clad arm. “Hey, hey, Sweet Pea.” She prodded him again but Sweet Pea continued to fane obliviousness, scrolling endlessly on his phone.

“Sweet Peaa.” She complained dragging out his name and beginning to pull on his sweater instead, intent on getting her way. “Sweet Pea, please?”

“What?!” He suddenly bit back, his head snapping to face hers, his eyebrows drawn in an irritated scowl, mouth straight and a hardness in his eyes. Y/N shrank back slightly, her hand raised to pull at his arm again but was now slowly moving to cover her lower lip. Sweet Pea’s expression softened at the wounded look that flickered through her eyes, sorry that his stress had caused him to snap at her.

“Sorry, Princess, I’m sorry, what did you want to tell me?” Switching off his phone, he dropped it down the side of the sofa cushion before pulling her against his chest.

“It was nothing, don’t worry, I shouldn’t have interrupted your working.” She knew that he was stressed with work as of late and was now berating herself for annoying him when she knew he was already drawn tight.

It always seemed to happen as they neared the end of the year, like clockwork, throughout their three year relationship, more frown-lines would appear in his brow and black circles would form and grow larger under his eyes as they got further into December. This year though, with the heavy snowfall of the last few days and his inability to make it out of the house to work, he had seemed so much more frustrated and was nearly constantly attached to his phone. Y/N had not had the same problem, being able to work from their cozy study instead, due to her career of choice being writing, but the inability to leave was now beginning to even affect her. If Y/N was completely honest, she was going stir-crazy, she wanted nothing more than to go out and play in the snow, and she had indeed gone out yesterday for a few minutes but, after giddily making a snow angel, the novelty soon grew old and her excitement wore off as she could not enjoy the heavy snow with her favourite person.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll just pop another movie in.”

“Y/N, what did you want to tell me, it’s alright.” Her head still pressed against his chest, he smoothed his thumb along her cheekbone, his other tracing patterns at its place on the material covering her waist.

“I-I just wanted to know if you would like a hot chocolate?” It was more of a question mumbled against his jumper but Sweet Pea’s keen ears easily picked it up. He drew himself back from their embrace so he could try and see her face but it stayed securely against his chest, hidden from view.

He sighed, pulling her onto his lap, one leg either side of him, kneeling on the sofa. Of course this was to try and get her to look at him but she kept her head down and firmly placed it against his neck.

“You’re lying.” The tone wasn’t harsh per se, but it held a confident accusation.

“Mmm.” Y/N grunted against his skin, neither confirming nor denying, but from experience, Sweet Pea had learnt that an unwillingness to reply tended to mean that he was correct.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

The next thing that left her mouth was not quite coherent due to the words being incredibly muffled by his skin and were probably intended to be that way to avoid Sweet Pea understanding her; the only thing that Sweet Pea was sure of was was that she hadn’t said ‘no’.

“What was that sweetheart?” He coaxed, finding her grip slightly more lenient and slowly pulled her up from her position before cupping her face in a hand so that he could see her pretty eyes.

Y/N remained silent for a count and Sweet Pea was almost ready to ask again before a small smile appeared on her face.

��Do you want to build a snowman?” She sang slightly off-key but the tune was still very much recognisable; the pair had watched Frozen a couple of times since it had come out and the film had become a fast favourite of Y/N’s.

“No, I don’t. Now, what did you want to-”

“That is what I wanted to tell you.”

“Well, I still don’t want to build a snowman.” He could only sigh when a pout appeared on her expression, suddenly wishing that her face was still hidden against his chest; she knew that her puppy-dog face always weakened his defences.

“Pleaase?”

“No, I really don’t wa-”

“Why?” She questioned, sitting back on her bum and crossing her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you want to build a snowman with me?”

“Because building a snowman is stupid and pointless.” He moved his arms to sit just on her hips whilst his hands clasped in the small of her back to anchor his arms around her, trying to stop her falling off his lap backwards.

“You think I’m stupid and pointless?”

“No, I said building a snowman is stupid and pointless, don’t twist my words.”

“It’s the first proper snowfall since we’ve been together, Pea, I want to build a snowman with you.” She subconsciously reached to brush a strand of hair that had fallen onto his forehead, smoothing it in-line with the rest.

“It’s cold.”

“Well yes...it’s snow...and December.” He gave her a pointed look.

“I don’t want to build a snowman.” His voice held the ‘this the end of the discussion’ tone but Y/N ignored it.

“Have you ever built a snowman?” She questioned further.

“Y/N.” He spoke a little sterner.

“Sweet Pea.” She mimicked the tone. He sighed.

“No I haven’t but-”

“YOU HAVE NEVER BUILT A SNOWMAN.” She jumped up from his lap, breaking through his arm-barrier, her expression one of shock and perhaps even horror.

This news should not have been much of a shock to Y/N. After all, until Sweet Pea met her, he was very much an anti-social, stay-inside outcast, unless he was meeting with the Serpents; even then, though, he only participated in the rough-housing, activities which required ‘man-power’ (as he put it) plus occasionally volunteering at the local homeless shelter.

“No Y/N, I have never built a snowman.” He sounded defeated and that was because, after being with Y/N for three years, he knew exactly what was coming next.

“We’re going to make a snowman.” She stood firmly in front of him, arms crossed, begging him to argue with her.

“Sweetheart, I still don’t want to-”

“I don’t care. You. Me. Snowman. Now.” She ordered, marching towards the cupboard in the hallway pulling out his coat, scarf, and gloves, throwing each in turn at him, where he still sat on the sofa; one glove hit him square in the face and she had to suppress a giggle.

“Now where are your wellies?” Y/N asked as she pulled out her own coat, scarf, gloves, and wellies, before beginning to dig deeper into the cupboard.

“I don’t own any wellies.”

“Mine aren’t going to fit you.” She spoke as if he didn’t already know this.

“Of course.”

“I guess you could wear your hiking boots...but you’d have to wear some fluffy socks with them…” she thought aloud, not really paying attention as she rooted through the numerous bags in the bottom of the cupboard before pulling out a pair of well-worn hiking boots.

“I don’t own any fluffy socks.” Y/N snorted at the way he practically spat ‘fluffy socks’.

“You can borrow a pair of mine.” She was actually only half-joking, she did not want him losing his toes to frostbite.

“Yours aren’t going to fit me, Y/N.”

“They’ll be fine, you know that pair that practically come up to my knees?”

“Of course.” Sweet Pea sighed, utterly defeated, he wasn’t going to deny Y/N anything, he did not know why he bothered arguing in the first place.

***

“Alright.” Y/N clapped her hands together, the noise seeming much louder in the empty field. “First we make a snowball; you can do the head and I’ll do the body.”

Sweet Pea obliged, scooping up a large handful of snow before packing it together tightly.

“Now we just roll it.” Y/N crouched down, trying her best not to topple over and soak through her trousers - she was far too cold already, not that she would admit it to Pea.

“Just roll it?”

“Yeah, you’ll see that snow tends to stick to snow.” As she spoke, she began to push her small snowball into the almost foot-deep snow and roll it. “Watch how I’m doing it.”

Getting the general idea, Sweet Pea followed suit.

As Y/N’s snowball had continued to grow, she began to struggle to push it, it soon weighing the same as her and so, eventually, Sweet Pea’s surpassed hers - the student had become the master, as he had told her smugly.

Once they were done, Sweet Pea carefully lifted Y/N’s oversized snowball up and balanced it on top of his, holding it in place as she packed copious handfuls of snow into the neck space.

“He’s a little bumpy and uneven,” Sweet Pea looked at their snowman critically, eyeing one particularly flat side, “but I’d say he’s pretty good.”

“We haven’t finished yet!” She exclaimed in a ‘duh!’ tone. “You go rummage around the bushes for a handful of pebbles and I’ll be back in a minute!” with that, she skipped from the field, following the short path that led back to the house.

Sweet Pea wasn’t overly concerned that she would be harmed by another person as their home was out of the way and the pathway that led to the field pretty well hidden, but he was well aware of her accident-prone ways and could not help but worry that she may slip and fall on a patch of ice. Nevertheless, he followed her instructions, planning to search for her if she was not back in five minutes. He had no reason to worry, though, as she reappeared before he had finished his job, a bundle of clothing clutched happily in her arms.

They met each other at the front of the snowman. She dumped the bundle on the floor before taking a round black stone from Sweet Pea’s hands and pushing it into what would be the snowman’s face. Sweet Pea understood the idea and quickly marked out a smiling face for the snowman as Y/N wrapped a scarf around his neck and pulled a hat over his head.

“And finally,” she announced once she had finished dressing the snowman, “his nose.” She pulled a carrot from her pocket, offering it to Sweet Pea to do the honours. This was his first snowman and he should therefore have the pleasure of putting the nose on the snowman.

After the finishing touch was placed, they both took a few steps back. Sweet Pea wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into his side as she wrapped an arm around his waist. They stood there for a few minutes, admiring the masterpiece, until snow slowly began to fall from the sky again.

Silently, Sweet Pea offered Y/N his hand, which she accepted, and then they began making their way back inside into the warmth.

“I think he should be called Dave.” She announced as they passed the row of hedges that surrounded the field.

“I love you.” He said instead of answering, squeezing her hand in his.

“I love you too.”

#riverdaleevents #vixen: winter #southsidearchive #sweet pea x female!reader #female!reader #riverdale #sweet pea #findmeinpops 12 days of christmas #harry’s creations and additions #harry’s word creations

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franklyshipping · 5 years

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True Happiness Needs No Sound ~ A Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

Thiiiiis is a lovely prompt from the snazzy @petunia9402 who is always so lovely on the blog and their prompt is an AWESOME one! This is set with the interpretation that Jameson Jackson has no voice at all btw....LET'S DO THIS!

Jameson Jackson, I'm very sorry to say, was not smiling. Nor had he smiled all day. Jamie was the sort of guy who usually wasn't troubled or self-conscious about himself because he had so many loving people around him who loved and appreciated every single part of him...but lately....Jamie hadn't been feeling it. The Septics were a rowdy bunch, always cracking jokes to make each other laugh, always rough-housing, tickling, playing, all that awesome stuff....but none of that stuff had really seemed to extend to Jamie recently.

The only time Jamie seemed to hear jokes was when he happened to be in the room when they were being told....no-one actively tried to make him laugh with humour. No-one tried to wrestle with him, tickle him, play with him...and Jamie knew why. Jamie couldn't laugh, he couldn't make one single sound. Why waste jokes when you're not going to get a reaction? It was pointless. HE was pointless. That was how Jameson Jackson felt. He was upset, sour, and attempting to cope by gripping a blanket so hard that his knuckles turned white. He couldn't even scream to let his emotions out.

Thankfully....that was when our hero dropped in. Jamie was curled up on the couch in the living room, aimlessly looking at a wall in a dazed manner. That was how Chase Brody found him. Chase grinned as he spotted the dapper gentleman, and immediately sunk down next to him on the couch, rubbing shoulders with him in a true bro fashion.

'What's cookin' in Jameson land?'

Jamie....didn't react in the way Chase expected. Instead of a cheery smile, a playful shove, or an excitably signed sentence, all Jamie exhibited was a light shrug and brief sign.

'Nothing.'

Chase, obviously, was immediately concerned, especially since Jamie hadn't even turned to look at him. Chase sat up straighter and tentatively placed his hand on Jamie's back, leaning in a little to try and see his face to see if he could maybe analyse what was wrong with the sweet guy.

'Hey....buddy you know you can tell me anything....'

Chase spoke softly, making sure his reassuring smile stayed on his lips. Now, in Jamie's mind he would have ideally wanted to be strong. He liked to think he would have been able to tough this sort of thing out like the others do when they pretend that they're not upset....but he couldn't. Jamie just burst into sad, silent tears.

'Everything's just pointless. I'm pointless!'

Jamie's hands looked like they were almost spasming with how shaky his signing was, and Chase hurried to envelop the man in a hug because Chase knew that Jamie needed it if he was going to feel safe enough to reveal what was going on. Chase took a moment to stow away his shock for now as he stroked Jamie's hair, whispering to him gently.

'Hey, hey why would you think that huh? You're a septic, how could you ever think that you were pointless?'

Jamie was shaking his head as he sobbed and sobbed in silence. The only sound that was in the room was Jamie's frantic, jittery panting as he signed.

'How can I be one of you? How can I be a septic when everything about you all revolves around happiness and laughter? I can't do any of that Chase, I can't be like that with any of you! I can't laugh with you, so why should you all even bother with me?'

....Chase was nearly on the verge of tears. Chase's mind was racing with questions. Had someone put these ideas in Jamie's head? Had he and the others accidently excluded him from things without realising? How long had Jamie been feeling like this? Chase's blood ran cold as he wondered how many times Jamie might have been bawling his eyes out while they were just in the next room....oblivious. No. NO. Chase was not having it. Chase cupped one of Jamie's cheeks and shifted a little, so he could look at the shivering, upset man properly as he brought out the voice of the loving dad that he was.

'Now you listen here. Being able to laugh is NOT a requirement to be one of us, being able to laugh isn't a requirement for ANYTHING. We love you so damn much and you bring us happiness just by existing....'

Chase trailed off, making sure that Jamie was still close and embraced as he gave the younger man time to process what Chase was saying; Chase knew better than anyone that it took so much longer to process words in your brain when you feel like crap. Jamie though, much to Chase's relief, started to pant less and less, bit by bit....he was just starting to calm down from it all, just a little. Chase smiled warmly, and murmured with a smile.

'....besides, I know I don't need to hear a laugh from you to know when my humour is tickling you in all the right places!'

Chase took the opportunity to lightly pinch Jamie's cheeks with a fond smile, and to Chase's delight, Jamie blushed and bapped at him; he was even hiding a little smile as he signed.

'Your jokes are awful....'

Jamie looked up at Chase softly, and let him see his little smile, just so that Chase knew he was only in jest. Chase, of course, let out quite the indignant gasp at this apparent rudeness!

'Well....that's just because I save my best material for special occasions! I'll give you one of my best jokes to prove it!'

Chase replied matter-of-factly, before clearing his throat with the greatest amount of exaggeration that he could possibly muster.

'The best joke, in the entire world actually, iiiis....'

Jamie had one of his eyebrows raised a little, especially when Chase trailed off and paused for dramatic effect whilst waggling his eyebrows comically. Then, Chase smirked and did snazzy finger-guns as he delivered his punch-line.

'Anti's dress sense!'

Jamie was biting down hard on his bottom lip. Why? Because it was taking every single ounce of willpower Jamie had inside him not to break out into a grin and shake with laughter at how amazing that joke was, as well as at how utterly bold and brave it was! Luckily Jamie managed to cover his mouth and stop any mirth....but he couldn't stop that bright smile of his; he couldn't help it, Chase always made him smile.

'Ohhhh what's this? Was that, I daresay, a smiiiiile?'

Chase gasped as he cooed, giggling in victory at seeing Jamie trying to cover up his evident happier mood. Jamie shook his head in defiance at Chase....but Chase wasn't going to let that smile go. He inched especially close to Jamie, a grin in place as he growled goofily.

'You'd better show me that smile....or I'll make you!'

Chase made his hands into claws and playfully wiggled his fingers....but what he didn't expect was for Jamie's smile to fade and for his face to fall into a frown; Jamie's melancholy had come back, and Chase stuttered frantically, endeavouring to see what was wrong and how he could fix it.

'....d-did I say something wrong?'

Chase lowered his hands as nerves bubbled in him....but he let out a light sigh of relief when Jamie shook his head....but then he felt like he was being punched in the gut as he interpreted what Jamie signed next.

'....the only point of tickling is to make someone laugh. You're wasting it on me.'

....first off, Chase made a mental note to find out who the fuck provided the first spark that caused this mentality to develop inside Jamie. For now though, Chase took a breath. He was here for Jamie, and he was damn well going to show it!

'Well, I'm sorry but you'll have to say something better that THAT if you don't want the tickles! Oh, plus you're wrong.'

Chase's voice was so strong and resolute, that it took the melancholic Jamie off guard and made him blink up at Chase in surprise; he didn't know Chase had that much assertiveness in him! Now, with Jamie focusing on letting the words start to sink in, that meant he didn't move to stop Chase when he lightly straddled the pondering man.

'Tickling is about trust, bonding....'

Jamie blinked and looked up at Chase, his next words bringing him back to reality....and causing to develop a sweet, wobbly smile. Jamie knew that Chase was too much of a lazy, silly man to even contemplate lying to someone about something, so he knew that Chase meant every word he said. Plus, with Jamie having developed a smile once more and looking much less melancholy....only one thought was in Chase's mind. He had to keep Jamie like this for eternity. So, Chase grinned, growled, and readied his fingers.

'....and giving those you love an absolute wrecking when they need it most.'

Chase snickered and struck, and struck well. As soon as those scratching fingers of his found Jamie's tummy, Jamie was done for. All he could do was grin and wiggle from side to side as his chest shook with sweet mirth; plus he had the most precious dimples you have ever seen on a person. Jamie was also gazing up at Chase pleadingly as he signed at a rather fast pace....he was frantic....because Jamie knew that Chase knew ALL of his tickle spots.

'But I don't need it I don't I don't I don't!'

Chase giggled fondly down at Jamie, enjoying scratching the man's soft belly as those dimples just got deeper and deeper.

'What do you mean you don't need it? You already look so much happier now, especially with those pretty diiiiimples!'

Chase crooned, squishing the flesh of Jamie's belly playfully; this of course made a) Jamie sign even MORE frantically, and b) hurry to cover his face which was slowly becoming the most delightful dark pink colour.

'I don't have dimples, you have no proof!'

Ahh, that sweet, sweet defiant denial. At seeing Jamie try to hide himself and try to LIE of all things, this made Chase gasp in utter shock that Jamie would express such dishonest evasion! So of course, he promptly scribbled into Jamie's belly and put on a rather authoritative voice.

'Oh you'd better lower those hands right now mister, or things are gonna get muuuuch worse.....'

Jamie's eyes widened at the more intense tickling, and he arched his back and tossed his head as a result of it all; Chase's fingers were digging in SO much, it was evil! However....Jamie did not, even for a second, move his hands from his mouth; even though the tickling was so bad, Jamie managed the tiniest of glares in Chase's direction. Chase smirked....because oh how he'd hoped for that reaction.

'Fine, if that's how you wanna play....'

Chase purred, letting his hands drift away from Jamie's belly for a few moments, allowing the man to cutely huff and catch his breath. No seriously, every little huff of an inhale or an exhale that Jamie exhibited was so cute that it would have made a rocky cliff aww. Of course though, that bliss of recovery couldn't last forever; Jamie soon realised that when he felt Chase's fingers....splaying over the tops of his thighs.

'No not there Chase please, look I did what you wanted, look!'

Jamie revealed his flustered grin as he signed at fast as he could, gazing at Chase imploringly the whole time because dammit his thighs were so damn ticklish! Of course, Jamie reasoned that because now he'd done what Chase had asked, he'd get mercy, right? Yeah uh....Chase's malevolent smirk currently suggested otherwise as his fingertips kept splaying over Jamie's tense thigh muscles.

'Mmmm, yeah you did....but unfortunately, you took waaay too long to obey me....and now you must be punished!'

Chase then promptly set about pinching the soft flesh of Jamie's thighs, which as you can imagine, prompted quite the reaction from the sweet, sensitive man. Jamie literally started assaulting the couch as his mouth opened wide, and his whole torso was quivering with all his cute mirth!

'Awww look at these tickly squishy thiiiighs!'

Chase's teasing did not help. Yes, Jamie was well aware that he had rather squishy and sensitive thighs but he CERTAINLY didn't need to have it pointed out to him by a meanie tickler! Jamie was tugging at his legs as he gazed at Chase with flustered, watery eyes.

'Shut up shut up!'

Chase giggled fondly at Jamie, gosh he was probably one of the cutest people on the planet. Chase loved seeing how wild Jamie got physically; if he was Jackie's side-kick, all the hero would have to do is poke or squeeze him and get him to flail and knock out all the villains that way! Talking of squeezing, Chase was now rather enjoying doing that to Jamie's poor thighs.

'Or what? You'll keep smiling handsomely at me?'

Chase smugly retorted, snickering at Jamie's sweet red face and sweet bright smile-....and sweet snorts? Oh yeah, that's right people. Jamie had started snorting, a sound which didn't require the involvement of vocal chords; of course, this was something else that Chase decided he must gasp dramatically at, I mean, what kind of playful tickler would he be if he didn't?!

'Ohhh, you intend to snort at me! Well, frankly that just makes me want to tickle you even more!'

Chase grinned as he scribbled over Jamie's thighs, delighting in the torrent of snorts he got in return from his sweet little tickle victim; said victim ended up struggling harder and signing faster.

'No you can't make me snort, I sound dumb!'

Jamie pouted up at Chase amidst his reply, he didn't see how sounding like an undignified pig was anything close to a good thing! Chase of course was VERY quick to disagree with this notion.

'Actually, you sound and look very precious and happy!'

.....I personally love it when someone says something just that little bit more meaningful out of nowhere, and it just really catches you off guard but in the loveliest way. It certainly caught Jamie off guard. Jamie developed a wobbly, happy smile, sniffling and gasping as Chase let him catch his breath for a little bit. Chase then just took the opportunity to just....enjoy looking at Jamie, seeing all the colour in his cheeks, his persistent smile, his jittery chest; he was too adorable.

'You really think that?'

Chase blinked when he saw Jamie slowly sign to him with imploring eyes, and Chase didn't hesitate to nod and grin....whilst subtly shuffling his way down to Jamie's shins so he could ''casually'' rest on them.

'Oh I do....it's so cute how your chest quivers, and how your dimples make your cheeks look even more pinchable....and how your eyes widen when you know the tickling is about to start....'

Chase purred softly, and at first Jamie felt so warmed and giddy at the sweet compliments....but then the happy butterflies in his system started to get more and more active as Jamie listened more. He realised...that Chase was not done. As if on cue too, when he felt a single finger swipe up one of his bare feet, Jamie's eyes widened.

'Wait no wait not my feet you know I can't handle it! I might cry!'

Jamie signed frantically, clinging to the weak hope of Chase maybe having mercy....but ah, that wasn't going to happen. Chase of course awed at Jamie at how sweet and flustered he was....before smirking and setting about scratching up and down BOTH of Jamie's pale soles.

'Awwww don't worry, that's what tissues are for!'

Jamie's reaction was gorgeous. His mouth opened as wide as it could go as the sensitive man arched his back, thumping the couch as his mind raced with shock at how ruthless Chase was being! This was Jamie's equivalent of screaming, his feet were hands down his worst tickle spot, so Jamie did the only thing he could do. He begged.

'NO PLEASE NO NO PLEASE CHASE! MEANIE! YOU MEANIE!'

Jamie scrunched his feet as his pleading signs made Chase giggle fondly, but Chase only set about scratching deep into Jamie's wrinkles as he cooed.

'If you think scrunching up these pretty feet will save you then you are soooo wrong....'

The hardened scratching made Jamie let out a spontaneous snort, before his form just shivered and jumped with his silent hiccups of laughter. It was a rather a precious sight to behold, and Jamie's hands were practically a blur at this point too.

'I'M GOING TO GET YOU BACK FOR THIS!'

Poor Jamie, he was so overcome by the tickles that his brain somehow thought a threat was a good idea! Chase raised an amused eyebrow down at the red-faced thrashing man, and mercilessly scratched under Jamie's toes as he chuckled.

'Oh yeah? You and what ler mood, hm?'

Oh yeah, Chase went there. Poor Jamie was so embarrassed amidst his mirth as Chase brought up the implicit truth of the fact that Jamie could have easily sat up and grabbed Chase's hands at any time....but he was too happy. He was too happy at being tickled and cheered up to make it stop.

'PLEASE! NO MORE! CHASE, MY FEET CHASE!'

Under other circumstances, Jamie would have retorted against Chase's words, but with all the tickling he could only focus on trying to sign coherently. Jamie had little tears trickling from the corners of his eyes, and was weeping with silent laughter....as Chase merely snickered.

'Mmm, they are lovely and soft feet you have here....'

Chase's scratching fingertips never left the undersides of Jamie's poor toes, and by now the poor dapper man had tears really streaming down his face. Of course though, Chase wasn't going to torture him forever.

'MERCY! MERCY! MERCY!'

That was the word that Chase needed to see. He grinned and relented, sliding off Jamie's legs and crawling up to him so he could envelop Jamie in a warm hug; he wasn't completely cruel! Chase chuckled affectionately as he ran his fingers through Jamie's hair, smiling when he felt the panting man snuggle close. He produced a tissue from his back pocket and lightly dabbed at Jamie's cheeks and eyes, whilst murmuring in a soft voice.

'....s-sorry if I, heh, got a little intense on you kid....I just wanted you, well, needed, you to know that we love you so damn much. No matter what you can and can't do, that doesn't stop you being one of us. The best one of us to be honest.'

....honestly, those words alone could have sent Jamie weeping for a good ten years. He didn't though. Jamie gazed up at Chase with watery eyes and a wobbly smile....he felt so damn happy and loved and looked after.

'I love you dad.'

....aaand now Chase was also tearing up, damn you Jamie for making the whole thing even MORE heart-warming! Chase grinned and ruffled Jamie's hair, pulling him closer as he gave him the strongest, most loving hug that he could muster.

'Love you too kid.'

Jamie let out a soft, happy sniffle at Chase's reply....and then let out quite a few more silent giggles since Chase had decided to take it upon himself to mess up Jamie's hair every few seconds for the foreseeable future. Well, that's a good, loving dad for you.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DIIIID WOOOOP LUV YOUS XX

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #jameson jackson #jamie #chase brody #chase #platonic #sfw #prompt #ego fic #ego fanfic #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #luv these cuties

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towaniegaita · 5 years

Photo

MeseMoa. - The dark world view spun together with halyosy and Bunkei

This is an interview from Music Natalie published on 24th October 2019. Here’s the link for the original Japanese text and the photo gallery.

I’ve done my best to translate it but there are still a few places that I’m unsure about. If you notice any mistakes please let me know and I’ll do my best to rectify them.

MeseMoa. have released their new single 'Crossing Threads'. The complete opposite of their previous release 'Heisei Paradigm Change', which brilliantly expressed the beginning of the new era, this single is a dark number about a complicated romance set to a serious melody. Their heartrending voices and beautiful harmonies make the finished piece worthy of a listen.

To commemorate the single's release, in addition to the 9 members we invited the songwriter halyosy, who has been working with them since their days as Musumen., and the YouTuber Bunkei, who directed the music video, to join us for an interview at Music Natalie. We of course heard about episodes from the song's production and highlights of the MV, but also about how they came to be a team and how it feels to work together.

Interviewer: Kawakura Yukiko

Photography: Soga Mime

The reason he began writing songs for MeseMoa.

· First, could you tell us about how halyosy and MeseMoa. met?

Nibansenji: Originally he was friends with Shirofuku, right?

Shirofuku: Right. We were both active on NicoNicoDouga.

halyosy: Shirofuku was uploading dance covers as an 'odorite' and I was uploading vocal covers as an 'utaite', but we often watched each other's videos. Actually, I wanted to see him dancing live, so I went to see him perform at an event in Akihabara long before Musumen. became a thing *laughs*

All: What!?

Aoi: You're just a fan!

halyosy: Ahahahaha. After that we exchanged contact details, and then one day we went to karaoke together.

Tomitake: How was it? Were you disappointed? *laughs*

halyosy: Not at all. I was surprised when he shoved the table out of the way and suddenly started dancing in the karaoke booth though.

Nichan: Heh!?

Aoi: So Shirofuku can be that active…

Nozakibento: And? What did you dance to?

Shirofuku: I'm pretty sure it was by Perfume. After that we discussed about performing together at one point, and halyosy even composed a test song for it, right?

halyosy: Yeah, I remember that.

Shirofuku: Before Musumen. began, I was in a trio called perfumen, so he brought along an EDM type song influenced by Perfume. I was amazed by how high quality it was. In the end we never released that song, but when Musumen. was born I knew I wanted him to be the one to make our songs.

· So that's how it all began.

halyosy: I kept telling him that I wanted to make a song with him, so later on he came to me and said, "Actually, I'm thinking about forming a dance cover group," and asked if I would write an original song for them. That was the beginning.

Aoi: And that turned into our 1st single 'War Cry ~What's Wrong with Pretending to be an Idol!~'

halyosy: Right. But at first it was just meant to be a commemorative thing. We were kind of joking around *laughs*

· But from then halyosy became something like MeseMoa.'s exclusive songwriter.

Shirofuku: That's right. We're always so grateful to him!

halyosy: And I to you.

· When did the members other than Shirofuku first meet halyosy then?

Kimagure Prince: I think the first time I properly spoke to him was the recording for 'War Cry ~What's Wrong with Pretending to be an Idol!~' He was really famous on NicoNicoDouga, so of course I knew a bit about him already.

Nozakibento: I was really nervous that first time.

halyosy: Really??

Nozakibento: Yes, because you were such an amazing person……

Tomitake: 'were'?

Nozakibento: Of course you still are now! *laughs*

The new songs are a challenge from halyosy

· Now that you've been working together for over 6 years, what is halyosy to MeseMoa.?

Tomitake: Ummm, a very close friend?

Aoi: A papa?

Kimagure Prince: A slightly older brother?

Aoi: Eh, only 'slightly'……?

halyosy: I always get teased like this *laughs*

Tomitake: He takes it like a champion though. No matter how much we tease him, he accepts it without an issue.

halyosy: Wahahahaha

· What do you think about the appeal of halyosy's songs? Maybe there are parts that draw out your own abilities, or songs that resonate with you?

Kimagure Prince: I get that a lot.

Tomitake: halyosy's songs often include our own feelings or obstacles we're facing at the time in the lyrics, so we can always sense ourselves in the songs. There's quite a deep meaning.

Nokkuso: He also decides carefully who gets which part in the song. Like, he'll get someone to sing certain lyrics because it suits them as a person, or something.

Shirofuku: In regards to overall quality, halyosy is really particular. I'm sure other songwriters can be fussy too, but he puts so much care into the most minor sounds or lyrics. That's why whenever we get to hear the demo songs, they're immediately recognisable as halyosy's songs.

Tomitake: halyosy songs are very characteristic.

halyosy: I'm glad to hear it. By the way, I'm always surprised to see which sounds the choreographers choose to pick up on. That's why I can't even be careless when it comes to the fine details.

Tomitake: Like how sometimes they don't focus on the main sound, but the rhythm in the background?

halyosy: Exactly that. I often watch the dance and think, 'Wow, they really chose to use that bit?'. Another difference between writing for MeseMoa. and for other artists is that when I'm reaching the final stages of production, I get sent a video of the members performing the choreography so I can check that there's no gap between the music and the video.

MeseMoa.: Really?!

halyosy: Say for example there's a part where the formation suddenly spreads out wide, then I know that the music for that section is important, so I can brush it up for the final piece. The production of the song progresses at the same time as the production of the performance.

Nichan: I feel kind of overwhelmed. I didn't realise you went quite that far with the details for us.

Tomitake: Also, every single song is really good! Each one is easily superior to the last.

Nichan: What I personally think is characteristic of halyosy's songs is his frequent repetition of phrases. The songs are catchy and linger in your mind.

Forgeru: I also sense from the songs that he's trying to get us to challenge new things. It's always exciting to receive a new song, and it really feels like we're taking a step forward.

Kimagure Prince: It's like we're being tested, but in a good way.

halyosy: I'm so happy to hear that. I don't often get the opportunity to hear their impressions on the songs in person like this.

· Do you also feel like you're setting challenges for MeseMoa.?

halyosy: I am. Every time I see them live, their skills have improved again and it makes me consider what I could try and work with for the next song. For a recent example, when I saw them singing, dancing and acting for a musical, the songs had really beautiful harmonies. I was surprised to hear a chorus that made such good use of their 9 voices, so I decided to create that effect myself, and that turned into songs like Aurora Kyokugidan and Pacific Tenboudai.

Crossing Threads was born from wanting to make something dark

· What side of MeseMoa.'s charm are you hoping to demonstrate through Crossing Threads?

Nibansenji: This song especially was made because of how well halyosy understands us all. For example, because my voice is quite low and husky, he gave me parts that make best use of that. The dialogue at the beginning also came about because Oshoi (halyosy's nickname) said he wanted to hear a certain side to my voice.

Tomitake: My parts were also really easy to sing. He made them all in the most comfortable register for me.

halyosy: That's the 'I need them…' part, isn't it? I got them all to sing in their preferred register and then combined them to make harmonies.

Forgeru: Because he's known us for so long, he has a perfect understanding of the breadth of our voices.

Nozakibento: And also what makes each person unique

Kimagure Prince: This is kind of a different story, but he often takes notes of the random things that we say during recording sessions. Even when it's a really pointless conversation, he stops us so he can write it down.

· Do you use those kind of things in the lyrics?

halyosy: I've done that, yes.

Kimagure Prince: Also he does this kind of research by asking us about recent relationships within the group.

Forgeru: Often I hear, 'Who have you been close with recently?' or 'Which member are you hanging out with the most?' *laughs*

Tomitake: He's also thinking about the wishes of the fans *laughs*

· What were your impressions of the new song?

Nibanseji: To be honest, my first thought was that this was another difficult song. But also that if we could properly express what Oshoi had made for us, then we could show yet another new side to ourselves. Because of those thoughts I was able to work hard on this song.

Tomitake: For me it was more like, 'Finally!!'

Nibansenji: The first time I heard it I knew you'd love it.

Tomitake: It's exactly my taste. I love it so much that I listened to the demo version over and over. I feel like our recent singles can be split into either really bright and cute songs, or really dark and miserable songs. I personally prefer the darker songs, so for me this was like the moment I'd been waiting for.

· halyosy, where did the original concept for Crossing Threads come from?

halyosy: (to Bunkei) It's finally your turn! Please go ahead.

Bunkei: Then I'll tell you my side. I first got involved in the creation of MeseMoa.'s songs around the time of Muddy Water (released in August 2017). First a meeting is held with me, halyosy, and MeseMoa.'s producer. That's when the producer will announce what kind of thing they want to try next, but sometimes those ideas are concrete and sometimes they're just based on a general theme. This time they said they wanted to make something dark.

Aoi: That's vague! *laughs*

Bunkei: To start with we worked off the basis of a dark theme, and from there we discussed what kind of music we wanted to use, or what we wanted to express in the music video. Then a few months later halyosy returned with that 100 point-worthy song. It's amazing how he always makes something worth full marks.

halyosy: This time we particularly wanted to emphasise the visualisation of the single, so I just did my best to make the most fitting BGM.

The variety of MV interpretations is also enjoyed by the members

· Could you tell us some secret episodes from the production of the music video?

youtube

Bunkei: Because halyosy always produces 100-point-worthy songs, I'm desperate to respond in kind. Since he played a lot with the music again, I felt like I had to figure out something similar for the MV…… But there just wasn't enough time to produce the video that Crossing Threads deserves. The lyrics are so deep that I honestly wanted to pack the video with as much as possible, so much so that a 2 hour movie would probably have been more suitable.

halyosy: I'd love to see that.

Tomitake: If halyosy's songs are involved then I'd love to watch a movie that just uses music as its motif. I think it could stand alone as its own work.

Kimagure Prince: I'd like to try that one day. Back to this MV though, I think this is the darkest content we've included so far. It's been a while since we made something where we don't smile even once, and even when we weren’t filming everyone appeared kind of serious.

Bunkei: There wasn't even anyone messing around really, was there?

Tomitake: Even those of us who usually joke around were repressing ourselves *laughs*

Bunkei: Perhaps the general mood of the song was also helped by the atmosphere of the location.

Nozakibento: But for the dance scenes and the parts where we're moving around, everyone balanced it out. Personally I really like the interlude where Aoi, Pun-chan and Forgeru are dancing as a trio. Their dance styles usually differ, but this time they were beautifully in sync, so I really hope people can see it soon. It makes me want to shout Bravo!

youtube

All: *laughter*

· The main part of the MV sees Nibansenji in the central role. The drama scene where he clashes violently with Aoi left a huge impression.

Aoi: I shouted so much during the filming of that. I wasn't actually supposed to, but I just naturally did it without realising.

Nibansenji: His shouting shocked me so much that I found myself drawing back.

Bunkei: That was kind of overwhelming *laughs*

Nibansenji: The acting scenes this time were all really difficult. I felt like all the people involved in creating the song, the music video and the dance had slightly different interpretations. If I include my own thoughts, then there's 4 different interpretations to work with, so while acting I was worrying about which one I ought to rely on most. I'm sure there's no right answer, and Oshoi himself said that he likes it when multiple different perceptions come together, so in my mind I was just telling myself to do what I thought was best……but that was still difficult.

· Does halyosy purposefully not tell you his interpretation of the song?

halyosy: That's right. No matter which song, I never tell 100% of my interpretation. That applies to Bunkei as well. I'd like him to express the story so that it can be interpreted in many ways, so I deliberately try not to reveal the basis of my thoughts. There's also the sense that I'm writing the lyrics as the first step in the creative process, then comes Bunkei's video as the second step, and the enjoyment of the fans becomes the third step……I like the way it spreads.

Tomitake: Have you seen the comments section on YouTube? The discussion around various theories is amazing. Lots of people are making connections with some of our previous songs and creating their own stories out of it. If I have even a little bit of spare time I like reading those theories *laughs*

Bunkei: Ahahahaha. It's interesting to see how various songs are connected according to the fans. Like halyosy, I also hope that people will be able to watch the video and interpret it in their own way. Perhaps they're naturally connected simply because halyosy, the members and I are involved in each of them, and perhaps also because in the music videos so far I've often chosen the roles based on each member's character.

Nibansenji: If each person who watches it can have fun by creating their own stories……then I'm fine with that.

Tomitake: It's also fun for us to read about too! Sometimes people come up with incredibly interesting stories, so once I started reading I can't get to sleep!

Bunkei: Some of the stories are so good that it makes me a little jealous *laughs*

I'm definitely going to make the very best video for them!

· Having all these people gathered together for an interview is a really valuable moment, so finally we'd like to ask MeseMoa.'s creative support halyosy and Bunkei for a message to the members.

halyosy: The combination of my music and Bunkei's videos is of course designed to draw out MeseMoa.'s current abilities, but also contains the hope of getting more people to find out about them. I do feel a sense of pride that we're the ones who can draw out those different sides to the members, but don't you agree that the most important thing is to help people find them through the song and the MV? That's the starting point necessary to get people to come to their live performances. I'm constantly thinking about what kind of things we can attempt, so I hope people are looking forward to the next time. I hope I can level up my songs at the same pace as everyone's improvement in singing ability.

Bunkei: I was originally uploading dance covers on NicoNicoDouga in the same world as the members, so to think that we would meet again and form this kind of relationship…you just never know what'll happen in life, but I'm really glad about it. I'm confident that I can understand everyone the best as a director, so I always think that I'm definitely going to make the very best video for them. Each time halyosy produces a different type of song, and each time the members tackle it and take themselves up a level, so rather than supporting them it feels more like I'm growing alongside them. Let's all get halyosy to nurture us together!

MeseMoa.: Woo!! *applause*

Kimagure Prince: (to halyosy) What do you think?

halyosy: Leave it to me!!

All: *laughs*

halyosy: I say that, but I also want to keep everyone together until I've finally finished with all the ideas that I have in my mind.

Kimagure Prince: I'm so happy right now, because I can really sense how much the two of them care about MeseMoa. We too must do our best so we can respond to those feelings.

We're like major artists now

· What are your thoughts on MeseMoa.'s future plans and enthusiasm?

Shirofuku: Having completed our previous hall tour (T/N: You can read the report of the Pacifico Yokohama concert here in Japanese), I feel like we demonstrated our growth very quickly with this new single. This is mostly in reference to the dance and the vocal harmonies, but in this single we attempted some of the things that we'd challenged on the tour as well. First of all I would like people to really enjoy Crossing Threads, and after that our live house tour TIME TRAVEL.6 will begin in November. We're playing smaller venues that basically knock off an entire 0 from the capacity of Pacifico Yokohama, but I think that playfulness or spirit in general is very MeseMoa. so I'm happy with it. I hope this will be a tour where we can do the things we want to and continue to level up.

Kimagure Prince: Because it's a live house tour, I'm looking forward to performing at a much closer distance to the audience. The tour's title is TIME TRAVEL.6, so we intend to perform songs that are so rare and nostalgic that they might seem like an illusion to some fans. I'd really like people to come and have fun with us.

Nichan: On a personal note, I think we were able to sell out Pacifico Yokohama, our largest capacity venue so far, because of everybody's cooperation, so I'd like to visit various places in the country to say thank you.

Kimagure Prince: There's also our plans for next year……

halyosy and Bunkei: Wait, what?

Kimagure Prince: I can't say anything publicly yet, so can I whisper it to you? *whispering*

halyosy and Bunkei: Eh?!

· I suppose that means the readers will have to guess based off those reactions.

Kimagure Prince: That's right *laughs* Sorry.

Aoi: We ourselves thought, 'Damn, we're like major artists now.' *laughs*

Kimagure Prince: But also, we're going to have to work hard for this. We're gonna get fired up.

Forgeru: Let's roll up our sleeves again and get cracking.

Nokkuso: Next year we'll all be working harder together, so for now please come and have fun with us on our live tour!

#interview #mesemoa #music natalie #translation #24.10.2019 #halyosy #kakihara bunkei #jpop #idol #musumen #crossing threads #magyaku no ito

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imagineseclipse · 5 years

Text

Your Character Development Imagine

Season 1 Part 6

“I’m really glad that you guys play Lacrosse-well not you Stiles”you spoke to two boys as you walked down the corridor in a row, you clutched your books right to your chest.

You started to daydream about when they were playing, you wouldn’t be anywhere near them, you wouldn’t have to hear their voices, you wouldn’t have to smell them-honestly the last one wasn’t a choice but because of your heightened senses the smell of there aftershave had now become intoxicating.

“Because of the health and social aspect right”Stiles leered breaking you out of your daydream.

You paused for a second, not really having a clue on what he was talking about.

“What?!...No?! It’s because it’s the only time I get away from you two losers”you grinned to yourself excited to have some alone time so that you could actually breath again.

Even though Stiles had practically been stuck to your hip, prodding and poking you whenever he needed to you had been doing your own research on the side.

You had been going through Derek Hale’s history, but it seemed like he’d gone incognito after the Hale house fire. To say you’d hit a dead end was an understatement.

However, you were onto something when it came to your own personal research. You’d been looking at articles on pixies and it mentioned somewhere that they are normally woodland beings.

Which explained your love for nature, and it explained the birds. The headaches however were still bothering you every night and you couldn’t find anything that could help. You’d started to replace the darkness in your room with pretty fairy lights and plants.

It was a big change for you, but after a while you grew to like it.

Stiles had come up with this theory that your wings would come at a time when you least expect it, you were just worried about the fact that it could happen during class. Which you never really attended so your worrying was pointless.

And as for magic, you still couldn’t perform any spells, but there was dust everywhere it was driving you psychotic seeing the glitter all over your room.

However it was amusing when Stiles would nit pick about the amount of glitter dust you’d left in his Jeep.

“Not so fast”Scott tutted.

“You’re coming to practice today”Stiles sang out.

“I really don’t think so”you shot back, ready to swear your way out of it.

“Why not?”Stiles questioned.

“I hate you and I hate Lacrosse why would I surround myself with things I hate it’s not healthy”you held your hands up.

“So you’re really gonna say no to Allison when she asks you to come?”Scott raised his eyebrow.

“Yes!”You sassed, folding your arms as the boys entered the changing rooms.

An hour later and you were sat miserably in the bleachers, the funny thing was that Allison was nowhere to be seen yet she had still somehow convinced you to watch the Lacrosse practice. You were disappointed in yourself but you also wanted to know how she did it.

Since the night of the party Allison had approached you more than once, sometimes to have a conversation, to ask you if you wanted to join her for lunch. It wasn’t as if you were actively trying to ignore her like you were Scott and Stiles.

She wasn’t that bad, well she was the least annoying out of everyone, in fact you wouldn’t like to admit it to yourself but you were kind of enjoying her company as long as she wasn’t with Lydia.

Allison considered you a friend now, and as much as it pained you to say it, she was on her way to being your first proper female friend in since freshman year.

You kicked your leg up onto the bleacher in front of you, stretching your body out. You might aswell be comfortable if you were going to endure an hour and a half of that torture.

You looked around you, to your right a couple of spaces down sat Lydia Martin, she was re-applying her lipgloss in her little mirror.

She was probably there to pressure-sorry... support her idiot boyfriend Jackson Whittemore.

In your eyes the two suited one another, they were both self-centred teenagers who depended on climbing the social ladder and they wouldn’t stop even after they had gotten to the top.

“I really like your denim jacket, where did you get it from”Lydia scooted over next to you, making you feel extremely uncomfortable.

Stiles spluttered from across the field when he noticed that his crush Lydia Martin was sitting right next to you.

“I got it from a thrift store”you deadpanned as you weren’t really interested in all the fashion advice she was giving you.

“A thrift store... interesting”Lydia considered shopping there.

You tuned back into the conversation when you heard her asking for your name.

“You’re y/n right?”Lydia smirked as she flicked her hair behind her shoulder.

“Uhhhh yeah”you slowly replied.

“Allison has told me so much about you, you should really join us for lunch at our table”Lydia offered.

“Do you only wear pink on Wednesday’s?”You mocked. You high fived yourself mentally for that little joke.

Lydia pinched your cheek, she was lucky that she let go before you had the chance to smack her hand away.

“You’re funny, I like you. I’ll see you at lunch y/n”She answered before retreating back to the school.

“I wasn’t joking”you murmured, slumping down in your seat. Trying to already form a plan to try and get out of this lunch time arrangement.

Stiles raised his arms, as if he was questioning your conversation with Lydia but his sign language was cut short when you detected Scott storming across the field.

Something was wrong, you could see that there was tension in the air, Scott was breathing heavily. His anger rising with every second that passed. Suddenly Scott’s emotions hit you like a brick, making you fall backwards a little.

You’d missed what happened because of Lydia’s ambush but you were concentrating immensely now.

Scott began to charge towards Jackson, barging him to the ground. Jackson screamed out in pain.

“Well Lacrosse practice just got appealing who’d have thought”you smirked as you leant forward to get a closer look at the commotion.

Jackson was rolling around on the floor, clutching his shoulder, Scott was on his knees a few feet away, his hands around his head as if he was struggling.

Coach ran over to Jackson and Stiles leapt towards Scott with urgency.

Everyone gathered around Jackson in a circle, the coach holding his hands up telling everyone to back off a little.

The seriousness of what had just happened was starting to sink in.

You took this as your chance to climb down from the bleachers, darting past the boy laying on the floor to get to Scott and Stiles.

“What the hell just happened?!”you yelled in a whisper as you knelt down.

“It’s happening, I can’t control it”Scott wheezed.

“Great timing McCall”you opposed.

“Now?! C’mon get up, get up!”Stiles began to tug at his bestfriends arm.

“A little help?”Stiles requested desperately.

You shot him a dirty look before grudgingly taking Scott’s other arm, dragging him up off the grass.

You and Stiles lead him away from the scene quickly, but out of the corner of your eye you saw Derek Hale standing, observing the situation.

You spun your head to glare at him as he shoved his hands in his pockets. You didn’t have time to stay and have a go at him.

You’d safely made it back inside the school with out Scott lashing out at anyone.

“Do I really have to go in there?”you complained as you reached the boys changing rooms. Flashbacks of freshman year flooded you and you suddenly felt the need to throw up with anxiety.

“I kinda need your help”Stiles replied, pushing Scott through the door.

“The deal was that you help me, not the other way round”you advised before taking a step into the room.

“Please just quick! We gotta do something!”Stiles yelled.

Scott fell forward, leaning on the tiled walls, both you and Stiles knelt down next to him.

The werewolf looked up at you both, rage filled his now yellow glowing eyes.

“Get away from me!”he bellowed, causing you and Stiles to fall backwards in fear. Stiles pushed you up off the floor and he stumbled behind you, running behind the back lockers.

You would have hit Stiles for breaking rule number 3 for the second time but he was guiding you around the changing rooms. If he hadn’t have been there you wouldn’t have known where to run.

Scott jumped on top of the lockers, perusing the two of you.

“He’s going to kill us!”you muttered under your breath with realisation.

Stiles rapidly pushed you in front of him again, guiding you around the locker room away from Scott who was chasing after you in hot pursuit.

McCall growled viciously at you, as he scaled the upper half of the room.

“What do we do?!”you cried out, Stiles looked around fearfully, his eyes setting on the fire extinguisher on the wall next to you.

“Grab that!”he instructed you.

You stretched out your arm, but there was no way that you could reach it, and you couldn’t move not with Scott circling above the two of you.

You closed your eyes, frustrated and very convinced that you were going to die.

An energy inside you started to grow stronger and your hands started to tingle. It was as if your hands were magnets, you couldn’t control it.

Stiles’ eyes widened in disbelief as the Fire extinguisher rose from the wall and flew over to your hands. You’d just unintentionally performed magic for the first time. You panted heavily, your head spinning. It seemed that it had knocked some energy out of you.

“How did you-

“Just take it!”you bellowed as you passed the extinguisher to Stiles, not wasting any time. You slumped back against the wall.

Just as Scott plummeted to the floor, Stiles released a large cloud of white smoke.

As Scott threw his arms around trying to free himself from the substance you took this opportunity to run out of the door, you and Stiles both leaning against the wall just outside of the changing rooms.

You were trying to catch your breath when you heard Scott call out.

“Guys?”He called out weakly.

You both hesitantly peered around the door at the teenager who was now sat on the bench.

“What just happened?”he asked confused and disoriented.

Stiles threw the extinguisher to the ground and you both walked back into the stuffy changing rooms.

“Are you being serious?!”you were so angry.

“You just tried to kill us, It's like I told you before. It's the anger. It's your pulse rising. It's a trigger”Stilinski clarified.

“That experience was definitely triggering, not just for Scott”you whined as you ran your hands through you hair.

“Y/n, you did magic!”Stiles’ mood changed in a matter of seconds as he clapped.

“No way”you gawped sarcastically.

“It was amazing”Stiles nodded vigorously.

“Well in that case, why don’t you become a pixie with weird grey freaking eyes and white dust everywhere?!”you discussed growing sulkier.

“Anyways, back to Scott, every time you play you seem angry”Stiles changed the subject before you exploded into tiny pixie pieces.

“But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed”Scott stated as if Stiles had ever played a game of Lacrosse in his life.

“Well, it's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. You can't play Saturday. You're gonna have to get out of the game”Stiles broke the news.

You pouted to yourself.

Seeing people get hurt on the field kinda made you forget about your own problems. It was your form of entertainment.

“I'm first line”Scott objected

“Not anymore”

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mister-tom-a-dildo-lover · 5 years

Text

Strive Pt. 22

{PART 1} {PART 2} {PART 3} {PART 4} {PART 5} {PART 6} {PART 7} {PART 8} {PART 9} {PART 10} {PART 11} {PART 12} {PART 13} {PART 14} {PART 15} {PART 16} {PART 17} {PART 18} {PART 19} {PART 20} {PART 21}

Pair: Tomarry

Rating: M-E(depends)

Tags: Mild Language, Homosexuality, Sexism, Obsessed Tom, Time-Travel/Dimension-Travel, Teacher/Student, Eventual Romance, Teacher-Harry, Grey!Harry, MoD(sort of), Death!being,

"You know, I don't want to try to control the way you do things in your life, but if you go and get a Mastery in Magical Smithing, it'll look very good on any resume you decide to build in the future."

Tom's tea cup paused against his lips as he considered Harry's words. Applying for a Mastery was a free process. And he was very young. People his age didn't often get Masteries. Especially ones centered around dying arts that were rarely mentioned anymore since it usually took extra effort to find information about them and he had the benefit of Salazar's knowledge on his side.

"Technically, you could apply for a Mastery in many subjects. Magical Smithing, Runes, Arithmancy, Legilimency, Occlumency, Defence, Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. And for a few of those, you were self-taught. Such notes would go over well with most people and even if you end up in another profession, your status as a Master would have you called upon often by others. Few people in our community are Masters in Legilimency or Occlumency for example and you could be called in to help the Unspeakables should they have need of your… abilities."

Suddenly the idea had become very appealing. "Having multiple Masteries would make me come across as more capable, yes?" Trustworthy. Hard-working. Dedicated. If someone was to see that he'd achieved Masteries in many subjects, they'd be impressed and more willing to put their faith in him. They'd most likely take him more seriously then, and consider everything he had to say as something valuable.

If he ever personally got into politics, that could greatly help with his ideas in moving forward. And it would draw his acquaintances even closer to him because it was in a Slytherin's nature to want to be near greatness.

"You're already Apprenticed to a Defence Master who will be going for a Runes Mastery soon. With a proper attitude, good support base, and necessary skills, you could probably obtain all those Masteries before you're thirty," Harry told him confidently.

It would be around twelve years until then, but at the same time that was such a short span of time for wizards. Nine Masteries in twelve years sounded impossible to the ear, but Tom did like challenges and he always came out on top eventually.

And he liked the benefits. If Tom was one of the very few Masters of a certain Art in Britain alone, he would be asked for assistance. Could probably charge outlandish prices simply because someone's desperation didn't let them think clearly. He very much liked the idea of it.

Also proving himself better than others by holding multiple Masteries at once sounded appealing. Tom was a narcissist first and foremost.

~.O.~

"We're going to explore my memories of the duels," said Harry as he held up a kit full of several vials of different colours, all bearing a different label on them. "Unaltered as promised. Choose which you wish to start with."

Tom squinted at the man's atrocious writing and plucked Duel 5 from the case.

According to Potter, they were borrowing the Headmaster's Pensieve for this lesson. He'd never seen one in person before, and committed the ornate markings in the bowl to memory. They looked like Runes, but unfamiliar ones, so mostly likely those from another culture.

"Pour the memory into the basin and dip your head inside."

The memory was silver as it poured out, but turned black the moment it hit the liquid within the Pensieve. Tom took a deep breath and followed Harry's order.

The Dueling Championship had been held in a massive outdoor stadium as large as Hogwarts' Quidditch Pitch. And the space where the duels took place was just like his and Harry's Room of Requirement training had been. Every element available to make things interesting.

The stands were filled with people holding up flags from different countries and cheering on their favourite competitors.

Said competitors were standing on the sidelines looking agitated as they had to wait for their turns.

A horn blew and a portly witch in bright yellow and black striped robes took center-field, her wand activating the Sonorous Charm. "We are ready to begin the Fifth Round! The first competitors up are Harry Potter of Great Britain and John Crawford of the United States!"

The cheers erupted from the stands.

Tom backed up until he was certain he was out of the way of the entire duel as the announcer shot off red sparks with her wand.

The four duels Harry had been through before this one were enough to make his opponent skeptical of him. He didn't rush in with his wand waving and spells flying. Instead, the blond man across the field stood perfectly still and waited, his blue eyes trained only on Harry in a manner that Tom did not appreciate.

Harry mimicked his opponent, stance casual and face passive. The two let the minutes pass them by, the silence rendering the crowd into a mass of confusion.

Eventually, it seemed that Crawford had lost whatever patience he'd been trying to show off, and whipped his wand out in an upward arc. A streak of flames followed the movement like a whip, and when the wand lashed out again, the whip snapped toward Harry's position.

Of course Harry quickly proved why the majority of Slytherin was looking to him to defeat Grindelwald. Instead of pulling up a barrier of any sort to protect himself, Harry quite literally took two steps to his right, allowing the fire whip to pass his left shoulder without a backwards glance. He didn't even blink.

The whip retracted and then lashed out once again, and once again, Harry manoeuvered himself around it, avoiding what would no doubt be a painful feeling if he had been unfortunate enough to get wrapped up in it.

There wasn't even a magical application to this, it was simply Harry being observant enough to predict where the whip would go specifically and simply moving to a position away from the targeted area.

Crawford didn't seem to appreciate Harry's treatment of his skills. Perhaps to a fool it looked as if Harry was mocking him, but if Harry was honestly good enough to avoid damage without having to use magic, then why tire himself out of he didn't have to? It would be pointless otherwise.

Common sense should be a thing utilised by everyone in Tom's opinion. It could honestly save one's life one day.

"Fight back, damn you!" Crawford eventually yelled.

Harry cocked an arched, perfectly plucked brow, and flicked his Holly wand once. Nothing seemed to happen and Crawford cackled. "Not so talented, are you? That's why you keep running away!"

And then Crawford's entire body jerked out of nowhere, and his hands rushed to his face to rub at his nose. He seemed to forget that he was holding a literal whip of fire and with his wand suddenly in his face again, the whip snapped back the way it came and Crawford got a face full of burns as punishment for his boasting.

The stadium erupted in applause and cheering, the astounded faces hanging out so openly. It was because Harry wasn't very intimidating in figure and didn't look like someone capable of much beyond looking pretty. But he'd proved their assumptions wrong so effortlessly!

Harry had won using only a tickling charm. Honestly, Tom shouldn't be surprised by his strange approach to magic.

~.O.~

"What did you observe?" Harry asked pensively the moment he was freed from the memory.

Tom shook himself in order to center his thoughts and stop the mild vertigo he was feeling. "He was very cocksure, but mostly in an attempt to hide that he was actually unnerved by you. You got that far so you had to be a threat in some way and when you didn't use magic to fight back and just kept avoiding his attacks, he became even more frustrated and attempted to goad you into fighting."

It was a pathetic attempt. Crawford was not so good with words as to manipulate anyone into anything. He would be a poor public speaker.

"He also knew how to use a whip," Tom added. "Very well. The flickings of his wrist spoke of experience." Tom was very well aware of how a whip was used. It took a lot of time to acclimate oneself to the proper motions if one wanted the best results.

"Correct. Anything else?"

He had to think for a moment. "He was impatient but also lacked common sense. He should have tried something else when you dodged the whip for the third time. Simply relying on the same technique for several minutes was foolish of him, and it rendered his arm tired after a certain amount of time elapsed. His form became sloppy and slow and even more predictable than before."

"Exactly. In essence, nothing particularly impressive. What would you have done differently?"

Against Harry? Tom already knew Harry. He'd been dueling Harry for weeks. Compared to Crawford, Tom already had a bit over him in terms of 'knowing his enemy'. He could formulate better ideas easily, though whether they'd actually work against Harry was an entirely different thing altogether.

Still…

"I would have learned a better version of the spell. A single whip is relatively easy to dodge because it is thin and can only go in one direction, but a cat o' nine tails is not. You aren't fast enough to dodge nine individual strips of flame no matter how talented you are."

Harry nodded, seemingly envisioning the very scenario and twirling his wand experimentally. "And if that failed?"

"Probably something involving animals. I've very good at controlling animals and most people are very hesitant to harm an animal, especially if they think it looks cute." He could capitalise off their hesitancy and then take them down.

"Interesting."

~.O.~

Dinner with the Malfoy family. It hadn't been since Yule that Tom had visited the Malfoys and he honestly found himself bored of them. Though it was incredibly useful that they felt indebted to him(and that was only because of Harry) he just didn't find them as interesting as he had before.

It was so strange how his way of thinking had changed so much.

During dinner, Tom had been asked a simple question. "How have things been for you, Tom?"

And he had to think about it for a moment.

"Considerably well if I ignore Dumbledore stalking my every movement," he'd answered. "I am Apprenticed to Harry Potter now."

Abraxas beamed, looking as if he had a million questions that he was only barely keeping himself from asking. His father however, merely looked politely interested.

"Our son told us you seemed less enthused the last time you met up for lunch," Lord Malfoy said calmly, not even looking up from his plate. "Are you well?"

An interesting place to insert this information. "I am am merely conflicted after I learned some sensitive information about the Slytherin family."

All three Malfoy's stiffened and turned to look at him with full interest.

"Oh?" Lady Malfoy asked.

"Indeed. Professor Potter is actually also related to the Gaunts and he is also a Parselmouth. As such he has managed to acquire many tomes about both the Slytherins and the Gaunts and has allowed me to study them. They are in Parselscript however, so it took time. I have learned that the enmity between Salazar and Godric had nothing to do with Mundanes, and everything to do with Godric's wife's younger sister starting a fight with Salazar's son over his pet snake."

"Mundanes?" Abraxas repeated with obvious confusion.

"Their older term for Muggles," Tom clarified. "Salazar sent his son away because Godric overreacted and when he found out he was in the wrong, he refused to take anything he'd done and said back, which lead to Salazar leaving as well after a time because he was too frustrated with Godric's childish behaviour."

"Ho-how did the story change then?" asked Abraxas, looking a good mix between horrified and baffled. "How could a fight over a snake escalate into him being pure evil?"

"It seems we've allowed the other Houses to dictate our Founder to us," said Tom plainly. "The whole story about the his monster is a lie. The Basilisk exists but not to cleanse the school of Muggleborns. All the Founders had a 'monster' that served to protect the school. Godric had a dragon that fell in battle, Helga had a Phoenix that still lingers around the property when it wants to be seen, Rowena had a Sphinx that was sold off centuries ago, and Salazar had a Basilisk that fell alongside Godric's dragon. So Salazar bred another to protect the children and left it there for any of his blood to make use of should the school need its greatest defence again."

The looks of shock and minor outrage on their faces was somewhat amusing and also sad at the same time. This went against everything they had ever learned about their House Founder after all.

"Essentially, we've been lead astray by the very people who hate us for the House we're Sorted into." If Tom was going to change something, he'd at least make certain proper blame was placed.

~.O.~

A knock on door of his rooms made Tom frown. No one ever visited him because there was no one around that would need or want to. And it was always him going to see Harry.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of one Ella Potter smiling up at him with mischief all over her face. "Hello, Tom. Care to come on a walk with this old woman?"

And the first thing out of his mouth was an offended, "You are not old. Dumbledore is old. Ancient even." He added last bit just to be petty.

Ella snorted behind her hand in a very unladylike fashion and nodded. "Such a charmer, Tom. He's only seven years older than me."

Briefly he had to wonder what happened because she looked so young and Dumbledore didn't.

Tom held his hand out and his cloak laid itself over his arm a second later. He didn't know why Elle was there at all but he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to speak with her if she really wanted to talk to him. He actually liked her company.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked as he stepped into the third floor corridor swinging his cloak over his shoulders.

"Not really. I'm merely going to have lunch with Harry and I thought you'd like to join us. You're always so alone down here. It's not healthy, you know."

"I'm not alone. I spend a lot of time with Harry," he defended since it was the literal truth. He spent so much time with Harry and still managed to not be bored of seeing his beautiful face.

She sent him an unimpressed look, left brow angled down to give the look more character. "All this time with him and you still haven't made a move. You need help."

Oh Merlin! He was getting courtship assistance from Harry's aunt. He didn't know if he should be embarrassed that his interest was so obvious to her, or grateful that she was in full support of it and wanted to see it blossom into something more.

Ella linked arms with him and gave his shoulder a fond by pitying pat. "It's really not that difficult. Harry is a bit dense but once things are more clear he will be more than receptive."

The entire afternoon was filled with Ella making certain to drag complements out of the both of them for each other. She also managed to get Tom to blush, which was a feat no other but Harry had managed. It was obvious she'd been a Slytherin. She was devious and single-minded in her purpose and didn't bat a single lash at her nephew's mortified sputtering.

And yet it was all worth it in the end just to see Harry so carefree and happy. While he hadn't been sad or dispassionate while teaching, he held a personal belief on how teachers should act when around their students. So the familiarity and fun behaviour he had shown all afternoon, was something new.

Tom felt privileged that he even got to witness it. Seeing sides of Harry Potter that others didn't get to, made him float.

Literally.

Sometimes he got so excited about Harry that he'd lose his connection to the Earth for a few seconds. It was embarrassing. Thankfully no one had noticed it yet.

~.O.~

"The school year is starting next week," remarked Harry that evening at dinner. They'd had a long day of training in dueling and this was the time they could indulge. Harry was eying up the platter of treacle tart the House Elves had brought for after supper.

"It'll be interesting to see the Great hall from a different angle." They took their meals together for the most part. Or Tom went to the kitchens personally in an effort to avoid Dumbledore. He hadn't stepped foot in the Great hall once that summer, and it had been marvelous!

Harry snorted. "You'll realise just how big it is then. It can almost feel overwhelming at times. So many students. So many faces. You can't even see them all perfectly near the double doors at the far end."

To Tom it sounded spectacular. Of course it could just be his happiness over getting to be in Hogwarts still. Not having to leave his true home behind could be blinding him.

"Have you already worked out your schedules?" Harry asked him, setting his plate aside and pulled the entire platter of treacle tart closer. As they were for him to begin with, Tom wasn't offended by the the gluttonous reaction.

They'd already discussed it. Tom would be taking over the classes for the first through third years. Harry had deemed him prepared enough to handle that much work, and had already bestowed much wisdom on how to handle assignments and such. And he had Harry's own example to base his own teaching style off of. Despite him originally being incensed in regards to it, Harry's method truly worked. He raised the grade average of the entire school simply because his class touched upon applications from nearly every other class in the school and his Dueling Club had been a great help.

With Tom taking on some classes, Harry's schedule would be freed up so he could dedicate the proper time to his Deputy duties. And there were so many to see to! Every day he had something to do, even in the summer!

"I have everything set up," he told the man confidently. "Though I wouldn't mind if you'd like to look over what I've come up with."

Harry's smile could make him believe in angels, it was just that fetching. That innocent. How had he existed this long and manage to be so untarnished?

"You've come a long way, Tom. I'm proud of your progress."

Tom was not blushing he was simply a little overheated still from the intense workout Harry had put him through. His clothes were hot and there was even still sweat on his brow!

There was sweat on Harry too. It made his hair shine and his skin glisten just a bit in the candlelight. And Tom's mouth felt dry suddenly.

"Are you okay, Tom?"

"Fine! Just fine."

He was not fine.

A/N: This chapter was finished months ago, for the most part. It was long enough and everything, but I chose to hold off on posting because it didn't feel right to me. Last night I got a review and decided to re-read the whole fic, plus this chap to see what was missing. I found it too. It was just detail. Some of the writing was just bland. I fixed it while I added 1,000 words!

#Strive #Fanfiction #Tomarry #Watermelonsmellinfellon

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

Note

Sam and Rowena? I’m still bitter about Sam and Eileen. Hope it’s ok to say that. I want Sam to have a significant other but I don’t get Rowena.

Hi hi! And absolutely, it’s fine to say you’re bitter about Eileen, because damn…

*takes five minute break to feel all the rage about 12.21*

Okay, now that that’s set aside for a moment, I’m going to attempt to speak rationally about this. Let’s see how well I do. Y’all can grade me at the end. :P

Yeah, for the entire two episodes that we came to know Eileen, it really did feel like they were setting her up to be a potential love interest for Sam. They used many of the same tropes they’ve used for other potentially romantically linked characters (*coughdestielcough*), and gave Eileen a family history and personal goals that narratively paralleled Sam’s. Her parents died when she was 6 months old, and she was forever changed by a supernatural being who killed them. She was raised in hunting, but always had a desire to pursue the study of Law. She and Sam spoke a common narrative language, as it were.

And then in 12.17, we learned that she and Sam had carried on a close communication for more than a year. It was clear from that little skype chat that even though she communicated with both Sam and Dean, and that they did all discuss matters related to hunting and general life stuff, that it was Sam she had a much closer relationship with the second she effectively said goodbye to Dean and continued her personal conversation with Sam.

That whole conversation– two episodes before the Mixtape reveal– was yet another reminder that “things happen offscreen,” and “Sam and Dean have personal emotional connections with people that develop even when we’re not actively being told about all the details on a weekly basis.”

Dean: All right, well, what are we lookin’ at here?Eileen: Working on it.Dean: Well, go get ‘em, Eileen.Eileen: That’s the plan.[Dean gives Eileen the 'thumbs up’ and Sam shifts the monitor back towards him.]Eileen: Bye, Sam.Sam [smiling]: Bye.[Sam disconnects the call]Dean [smirking]: That’s cute.Sam: Come on.

And then 12.21 happened. And dashed that potential. If 12.21 didn’t inspire more coda fic than any other episode, it’s gotta be near the top of the list. *I* wrote coda fic of 12.21…

Eileen is actually alive and what we saw was some sort of trick. Eileen was never there and Ketch actually killed a shapeshifter made to look like Eileen to rattle Sam and Dean, but she’s actually still in hiding. She’s too good for that, and wouldn’t have allowed herself to be caught out like that…

I mean, all of that could still be true, and her apparent death at the jaws of a Hellhound controlled by Ketch was just the most pointless … it didn’t even bear the narrative trigger that Charlie’s death did (i.e. the other pointlessly gross murder of a woman in the most horrific way possible just to further the manpain). The worst of Eileen’s death, to me, is the fact the same writers are attempting to ~do something~ with the character who murdered her. It’s not even remotely clear what that something is, but they’ve given him a half-assed redemption arc that none of the other writers seem to want to touch (and good for them, honestly).

So yeah, I definitely understand the bitterness.

But like with Charlie, the other characters have to keep living, and they’re put into new situations in which they grow and change and as a result of continuing to live… they do move on.

Take Rowena, for example. She’s been in near 30 episodes to Eileen’s two (It’s not really fair to include 12.21 in Eileen’s count, even). And she has had a pretty incredible personal character arc as we’ve learned more about her. Rather than spend half an hour recounting her entire plot history, I’m just gonna point everyone to her page on the superwiki for a quick, bare bones assessment of the technical plot details of her evolution from enemy to adversary to reluctant ally to possibly… friend…

http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/Rowena

So now that we’re all refreshed on how Rowena has managed to grow closer and closer to the Winchesters, let’s consider why. Because again, her redemption has always been closely tied to Sam. And since 13.19, quite literally on a cosmic scale through the revelation that all of Billie’s books on her fate end with her death because of Sam.

The show has paralleled Sam’s struggles since s10 directly to Rowena. Think back to their uneasy alliance during s10 during a time when Sam was going off the rails in an attempt to save Dean from the Mark. He hallucinated Rowena in 10.19, in an episode where the hallucinations were specifically crafted to drive the person experiencing them to their own death. And now Sam will apparently be the cause of Rowena’s eventual demise… although the mechanism of that isn’t textually clear yet, there is a definite potential romantic reading to it.

That information came to light in 13.19, in an episode where Rowena had to confront the ghosts of her past via her grief and all her regrets about her life and her lost son. It was also an episode where she was forced to confront reality, and to lay that baggage aside so she could move forward with her life. Where she had to acknowledge that her choices now could change her fate, that she was no longer the victim of fate that she’d been battling against since her lover abandoned her in poverty with a baby more than 300 years ago.

Sam was critical in her even getting to that point at all. He helped her (against Dean’s advice) restore her powers so that she could protect herself and finally achieve the security she’d been fighting for against the Grand Coven, against the old Men of Letters, against Lucifer, against the world in general that drove her to seek shelter from people who would only abuse her along the way. Sam did that. He was framed as the key to her being able to save herself, as well as the potential eventual cause of her demise.

But what if it isn’t literal death that Sam will bring her, but a choice? She’s kept herself alive for hundreds of years, resurrected herself at least three times in canon alone, and is effectively immortal because of it. But… what if she chose something else? What if, like Lily Sunder, she made the choice to stop pursuing immortality? What if she laid it aside because she was able to find true happiness in a human lifetime? They effectively opened the narrative doorway to that possibility, while putting Sam in the position to be the one waiting to unlock the door for her.

Eileen was an excellent narrative mirror for where Sam was back in s11 and s12, but through it all, Rowena has been given what has the potential to be a much deeper, more meaningful personal connection to where I’ve been hoping they would take Sam for years now.

Sam has struggled against his own nature, over what he perceived was “done to him” when he was a baby, and whether he’s even human or not, since season one. Rowena being a natural witch, born with these powers and choosing to do good with them now because she’s finally in a place of security where she can even consider that option, could potentially mirror Sam finally feeling at peace with his own entire life, you know?

Because Rowena has never run from her own powers, or from the reality of the Supernatural. She’s had essentially the entire opposite issue to Sam’s lifelong conflict of resisting that life. And from what we’ve seen so far of Rowena’s journey in relation to Sam, they very well could be setting up a “meet in the middle” sort of balance between them.

Rowena is perfectly positioned to confirm to Sam that he’s not a freak, that he’s wonderful exactly how he is. And Sam’s perfectly positioned to confirm to Rowena that she deserves safety, security, and happiness and can choose to fight for something bigger than her own personal survival.

I mean… what’s not to get here?

eta: Also please just let someone be there for Sam. Let someone care about him and take care of him and give him a kiss and a hug and be there for him in the morning. Let him have nice things.

Same with Rowena.

#samwitch #come on eileen #rowena #sam fucking winchester #it doesn't hurt that since 13.19 sam and rowena have been given this whole 'profound bond' aspect of their relationship too #but they're doing a lot of the groundwork for a potential 'we saved each other' narrative between them #and they've been putting A LOT of work into their relationship over the last four whole seasons #in much the same way they've put similar effort into the other big unspoken potential relationship on the show... >.>#Anonymous

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sleepyfan-blog · 5 years

Text

Sparring with Dream

fandom: Undertale Multiverse AU

first in the series is here. previous is here.

Characters and pairing: Dream, Killer, Horror, Dust, Nightmare, Dreammare

warnings: violence, cursing, blood

word count: 2,952

summary: Dream spars with Killer and Dust.

They found Dream wandering around Nightmare’s extensive library, a small and reflective smile on his face as the other ran a couple of fingers along the spines of the books as he past. None of the three of them could really understand the logic or reasoning behind how Boss kept the books in his library - but it was apparently in a very specific pattern that they had to replicate when they borrowed a book.

“HEY YOU!” Killer called out, having worked himself up into a very dark mood by the time they’d found the other “Dream was it? I want to spar with you, see what you’re made of.”

Dream tilted his head a little and nodded, smiling warmly up at him “Okay! Nightlight did tell me that at least one of you would be interested in a fight. So are the three of you going to spar with me together, or one on one? He did show me where the training rooms are - which is where we should head off to.”

His stupid voice was sweet and charming. For the briefest moment, Killer felt himself calm down a little before he mentally shook himself, scowling harder at the overconfident little shit “Nah, I’ll fight you first. Then, if you can stand it, I guess Dust or Hatchet’ll fight you, depending on which of them feels like it. I doubt that you could handle the three of us at once.”

The interloper nodded a little, though the was still smiling sweetly up at him. “Okay, let’s go then.”

Hatchet asked quietly as they walked to the closest training room “Where’s boss? From the way you two were all over each other, I didn’t think that he’d let you go any time soon.”

Dream blushed a little - fidgeting with his gloves for a bit “One of the Dark Papyri came up to the both of us, telling him that one of the village leaders wanted to talk to him about something. I don’t really know what the sociopolitical climate of our timeline is right now, so I told him I’d either be in the library… Or if one of you decided to fight me, in one of the training rooms. It’s been a… Long time since I was actively participating in what’s going on in our timeline. Ah, but Nightmare asked me not to talk about that.”

They arrived at the training room as Dream spoke, and after checking to make sure that none of the guards were in there fighting, Killer more or less ran into the middle of the sparring ring, glaring defiantly at Dream “So, you going to come up with here or just blather?” he was brimming with jealous hostility.

Dream eye lights brightened momentarily, and there seemed to be an oddly familiar way that he was smiling at Killer. Something that reminded Hatchet of Nightmare. “I’m coming, I’m coming. First thing’s first - what are the terms of the spar? Is it until one of us gets first contact? Or is it three hits? Or is it until one of us pins the other for a certain amount of time? Is soul magic allowed or off the metaphorical table?” Nightmare had made him promise not to beat them too badly - it would damage their pride. But he wanted to make sure that they were clear on the rules first.

“First person to pin the other for thirty seconds three times wins. Nothing lethal, obviously, which means no blasters or walls of bones. Everything else is fair game. You ready? Or are you that nervous that you’re going to ask too many pointless fucking questions?” Killer hissed, pacing around the ring, agitated and more than ready to fight.

“I just wanted to know what sort of fight you’re looking for, Killer~!” Dream responded, the smile on his face widening a little as he got into the ring, teleporting behind the other and sweeping the younger skeleton’s feet out from beneath him with his staff that he had just summoned placing a foot square in the middle of his back and pinning him in place for thirty seconds. “I believe the first round goes to me.”

Killer hadn’t expected the other to strike so quickly, and shook off the strange feelings of calm and peace that had hit him, making it utterly impossible for him to move for the thirty seconds that the other had him pinned “You fucker. You caught me off-guard that time, but you’re not-” he hissed as he got up, pulling his daggers from his inventory, interrupted as Dream struck a second time.

Dream had planted his staff firmly on the ground, using it as a leverage point so that he could swing his body weight around into a kick that sent Killer flying backwards and landing firmly on his ass with a groan. The mortal wheezed as he struggled to get up onto his knees - sending a wave of bones at Dream in an attempt to slow the other down - watching as the other leapt over the attack, landing on his feet before rolling to displace the energy and smacking him square in the chest - just above where his Soul would be, sending Killer flat on his back for a second time in less than three minutes.

One of the guardian of positivity’s foot was firmly planted on his chest - the other was pinning one of his hands. Dream was still smiling at him patiently, as if amused by what was going on. Killer growled and tried to use his Blue magic to grab hold of the other’s soul, but Dream firmly smacked one side of his head hard enough for the other to see stars, completely breaking his conversation. “I believe that’s the second pin to me. Now, are you actually going to start fighting? Nighty did pick you for your fighting ability, didn’t he?”

“He did, but… How the fuck are you that fast?” Killer hissed as Dream got off of him, shaking his head a little and feeling woozy as something wet dripped down the side of his face from the point at which the other’s staff had struck him. When he checked his hand after touching it, Killer choked on his breath, before howling, summoning his blasters, incensed at the little shit’s sheer audacitiy “You fucker you made me bleed! That’s it. I’m going to see what you look all broken and bleeding! By the time that you-”

Dream sighed, shaking his head a little as he simply summoned a bow, his staff vanishing before pulling back a single light green arro, taking aim at the wildly ranting and furious mortal, dodging the other’s blasters and bone attacks as if they were nothing and shooting him squarely in the soul, watching as he flew backwards, both bone and blaster vanishing in puffs of magic. The force of the arrow sent Killer flying until he hit the wall. “You know, you should only talk in battle if you can concentrate at the same time.” Dream admonished lightly as he walked over to where Killer was pinned, unable to summon his magic or teleport away. “I believe that that’s the third time I’ve pinned you for thirty seconds. Now if you’ll stay still, I can heal that head wound.”

Killer went very still as he realized that he’d been utterly outclassed. It was like fighting against Nightmare… Or that one time that he’d been nearly killed by that glitchy asshole before Boss had shown up and chased him off. “Wh… What the fuck? You have… You have like no LV. There… There’s… How…? I… Please heal me, my head really fucking hurts.”

“Nightmare and I were created to be guardians and protectors. We fight better side by side, actually, than we do apart.” Dream responded, shrugging a little as he healed Killer and pulled the arrow out of the other’s chest and soul before allowing it to vanish. He walked back into the sparring ring, looking at both Dust and Hatchet curiously.

Hatchet was genuinely impressed by the amount of badass was contained in the cute, tiny package known as Boss’s mate. He decided to stay quiet, as he was pretty sure he’d say something that might irritate the powerful being in front of him.

Dust, however, was rolling on the floor laughing “Hahahahaha! Oh my stars! He totally fucking trounced you! He’s like. Three feet fall and has an angelic little baby voice and you just… Ahahahahaha! That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Just a little bit of bite and you just fucking lose it. Weeeeeaaak! Man, I thought that you were a better fighter than that, Killer. Okay. My turn! You won’t beat me as fast as you beat the loser, especially since you don’t have the element of surprise. For our fight I say… First person to score three hits that cause the other to bleed or until one of us begs for mercy. Whichever comes first.” Dream didn’t really look like the kind of person who could take much pain, so this was going to be easy. All he had to do was to get the other to bleed a little and he’d have this in the bag. Dream’s speed was going to be a problem - but a bit of Blue magic should even things on that score.

Dust teleported onto the sparring ring, sending several different bone attacks at Dream, some of them blue like some of Pap’s bone attacks were blue - because trying to actually latch onto the little fucker’s soul with his magic was surprisingly difficult. He sent more waves of light pink bones the other’s way - frowning a little as he realized that Dream-

Was behind him and drove his staff through his ribs, the five pointed star scoring a deep scratch along his ribs - what made it worse is that Dream used the fact that the top of his staff was lodged between his ribs to yank him closer, wrapping an arm around Dust’s neck and scratching two of his cervical vertebrae with the tips of his finger bones - which had turned into surprisingly sharp claws. The positive guardian twisted his staff and pulled as he kicked Dust away from him, a yellow bubble shield surrounding him as a half-dozen or so Gaster Blasters appeared around him and blasted the energy barrier…

To seemingly no effect whatsoever. Dream then transformed his staff into a bow and shot Dust in the legs - one pinning the other’s left foot - a second piercing through his right femur with an audible and painful crack. “I believe that’s three separate attacks where I’ve drawn blood on you. Are you ready to desist, or must I make you ask me for mercy?” He was still smiling sweetly at Dust from where he stood, the bubble shield still surrounding him.

Dust twitched a little on the ground, attempting to get up, only to let out a sharp “Ow!” In pain as Dream shot him again - pinning one of his hands to the floor. “Fuck!”

“Answer the question please - or I will pin your soul - and therefore you won’t be able to use your magic without causing considerable damage to yourself. Do. You. Concede?” Dream asked, still calmly smiling at him, voice light and gentle… But there was an intensity to the other’s gaze that sent a cold shiver of fear through all three of the mortal skeletons.

“F-Fuck! I give! I give… Let me up, please?” Dust answers after a moment - hesitating to speak and flinching as another one of those damned arrows appears in Dream’s hands. “... And I’d be grateful if you healed me up, too.”

“Wonderful! I’m so glad to get to know Nighty’s friends - even if it means I have to fight you first.” Dream beamed happily, lowering the shield and carefully pulling out the arrows before allowing them to vanish in a puff of magic. He noticed something and let out a little “Tsk.” Before flipping Dust over onto his back and directly grabbing the other’s soul “You asked for mercy, so I gave it. Trying to gather the energy for an attack afterwards is just rude, Dust.”

“I-I wasn’t-” Dust began to fib, his eye lights shrinking to pinpricks in panic as he went very still. Fuck, fuck, fuck, had he just crossed a line that he shouldn’t?

“You shouldn’t lie to an empathic being who’s holding your soul in his hands, you know.” Dream scolded lightly, ever so gently squeezing Dust’s soul reprimandingly. “You surrendered, and you should do so with grace. There’s no shame in losing a sparring match, especially as I have several hundred years of experience on you.”

“I… I surrender. For… F-For real this time.” Dust stuttered, his eye lights expanding as Dream’s magic surrounded him, cowering a little and waiting to be killed again. He blinked as a sense of peace and calm washed over him, and the pain receded from his body. He looked down and realized that Dream had healed his injuries. “I… W-Why did you…?” He couldn’t finish the sentence, utterly perplexed by the strange being in front of him.

“You asked for me to heal you, and as you’ve actually surrendered, I see no reason not to do so. You’re young and impulsive, so I will forgive you for this small misstep.” Dream explained kindly, letting Dust’s soul go, and offering a hand to help him up.

Which Dust shakily took. Boss definitely wouldn’t have granted him such a mercy. While that wasn’t enough to get him dusted, he knew that the other would have beaten him bloody and left him in a heap, likely after telling him something scathing and deeply cutting. “I… Th-thank you for your mercy…” Dust managed out, humbled and stunned.

Dream turned and looked at Hatchet, asking curiously “Would you like to spar with me as well?”

Hatchet glanced at Dust and Killer before answering carefully “Uh… Nah. I’m not in the mood right now - besides I know better than to go up against someone as strong as you by myself, even in a friendly sparring match. ‘Sides I gotta make sure these two idiots don’t dust themselves trying to get stronger.”

Dust would normally feel scandalized and betrayed… But given the thorough and swift ass-kicking that he and Killer had both gotten… He understood where Hatchet was coming from. Still, he couldn’t help but tease Hatchet a little “Aww… You sure, Hatch’? I’ll give you a bar of chocolate if you actually manage to get a hit on Dream.”

“Hahaha. As if you ever give up any of the chocolate you get in your possession, Dust.” Hatchet snorted. The three of them wandered off, Dust and Killer to lick the metaphorical wounds done to their egos, and Hatchet followed to make sure that they didnt’ do anything else stupid today.

“Well, you’re gotten more ruthless than the last time that I’ve seen you fight.” Nightmare called out, leaning against one of the training dummies as he smirked at his beloved. “From the last time we sparred, I was fairly sure that you’d have at least prolonged the fights for more than a couple of seconds. Let them have the thought that they might have a chance at scoring a point against you.”

Dream shrugged his shoulders a little, unsurprised that Nightmare had been watching them. He’d led them to this specific training room because he’d known that the other would be able to observe from the throne room if he so wanted. “You said that I needed to stand my ground and push back against whatever they threw at me. Besides, I really, really hate playing the helpless healer role and wanted to knock any of those notions out of their heads before they could begin to take root. Those three might actually take me seriously.”

“Hmm, I did warn you that there would be those who would assume such things of you because of your aura and capacity for healing, darling.” Nightmare purred as he wrapped a couple of tentacles around his beloved’s waist, pulling him in close.

The positive spirit huffed a little and pouted, nodding a little “I know… It didn’t help that for the first couple of years after I… After I fled from you I was pretty much in shock constantly and trying to process what had happened, so I was really passive when I met Ink and his mortal… Companions. And that image of me stuck in their heads, I guess. That and… If you’ve got someone else to fight your battles for you… Why stop them? Especially if your enemy thinks that you’re helpless and therefore won’t attack you directly because it isn’t sporting?”

Nightmare snorted before bursting out into laughter “Oh, I absolutely must meet this Error. He sounds incredibly entertaining, if unstable and dangerous… And these friends of yours as well.”

“... Maybe in a little while? I want to learn more about what you’re doing with the people you’re ruling over and all of that. If Ink finds out what you’re doing, he’s not going to like it and try to stop you… which will pull the others into the conflict and it’s just going to be a mess if not handled properly.” Dream murmured, smiling softly as he nuzzled into his beloved, content. He… May have been showing off his battle-hardened skills a little to Nightmare, by proving how quickly he could disable the other’s minions if he so chose.

“I’m in no rush to meet them.” The negative spirit reassured, pressing a light kiss to his beloved’s teeth, pulling him in a little closer to further their embrace.

#my writing #dream #nightmare #dreammare #killer!sans #dust!sans #horrortale sans #violence tw #cursing tw #blood tw

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keener-esme · 5 years

Text

the luxury of loneliness

ft: zig novak & esme song description: after frankie’s anonymous text forces her to reveal some of esme’s reckless activities, zig comes to her house in the middle of the night to check on her. date: february 14th location: esme’s house tw: mentions of drug use

Esme wasn't going into the day with high hopes as it was; she'd never been much of a Valentine's savant, and if she hadn't owed Fiona a favor, she'd have stayed home altogether. She was indifferent to the whole idea, and while she didn't have a terrible time after Declan salvaged the evening off campus, she never saw Frankie's conduct coming. It was a shock to say the least, and, coming after Esme offered to end her tryst with Zig, one she didn't think she deserved. Thinking it a salvageable enough idea to watch movies on the couch, the house empty for the night save for herself, Esme rummaged through the kitchen for a quick dinner idea, settling on the leftover pint of ice cream in the freezer. Satisfied with the selection, she settled down onto the sofa, drifting to sleep until hearing the knock on the door. She stood there for a moment, curiously. Her dad wouldn't be home all night, and he obviously had keys. Miles wouldn't know she was home. That left Frankie as the most reasonable person, come to apologize. Unsure if she wanted to face her, she paused to take a spoonful of the dessert in her hands, figuring she'd have to see Frankie at some point. Walking to the door, she took a deep breath before pulling it open, not expecting anyone else to be on the other side. "Zig," she greeted, confused. She stepped aside, silently inviting him in.

Zig wasn’t one for school sanctioned social gatherings. He found them to be pointless, especially one with a Valentine’s Day theme. It was a holiday for love, and as far as he knew, there was nobody he’d even come close to loving at the moment. For that reason, he considered the dance to be a waste of time. Rather, he spent his time at the ravine, downing Coronas and hitting on any pretty face that walked his way. The text from Frankie had caught him off guard. Esme was the last person he intended to put his focus on that night. The fact that she’d been mad at him was starting to get to him, for some strange reason. He had hoped the rose would help to ease the tension, but he had become quite frustrated with himself for even caring in the first place. He had hurt plenty of girls in the past and never thought twice about it, so why was this different? He looked at his phone, briefly took a look at this ‘Micah’ guy’s Instagram, then requested the address from Frankie. His initial reaction was to ignore her pleas and tell Miles to take care of it, considering the two were most likely closer than her and Zig. He decided against bickering with Frankie on the topic though, since she did seem genuinely worried over Esme’s well-being. He tossed his beer can into the trash, offered a halfhearted goodbye to those at the Ravine, and headed towards the direction of Esme’s house. His navigation app had informed him the walk wouldn’t be long, luckily. After a while, Zig finally reached a house that caused him to audibly groan with annoyance. Of course, she was rich. No wonder her and Miles got along so well. Surely, they must’ve spent their time bragging about their riches and looking down on people like him. The smarter part of Zig told him that Esme wasn’t like that, but the part consumed by envy was ready to turn around and call it all off. Instead, he sighed and knocked on the door, knowing very well that a part of him worried for the other’s well-being as well. “Hey,” He smiled, eyes widening as he took note of the elegant decor in her home. “So you weren’t gonna tell me that you were completely loaded?” He raised an eyebrow. The only other house he’s been in that could match the adornment of this one was the Hollingsworth residence. “Whatever, that’s not important. Are you... okay?” He asked with a bit of hesitance, wondering if she’d actually give him a straightforward answer.

Esme Zig was the last face she thought she'd be ending the night facing. She didn't expect him to take part in the festivities she herself was strong armed into, so she couldn't rightfully anticipate him to; romance wasn't for either of them. So it was all the more intriguing to be face to face with him now. "I didn't think it mattered," she responded truthfully, raising a matching eyebrow at the confusing greeting. It hadn't ever crossed her mind that her family wealth was something of importance, least of all to Zig, who didn't know much else about her. "But hello to you too, I guess? You can come in," she invited awkwardly, ushering him in off of the porch he lingered on. "Why would I not be okay?"

Zig paused for a moment. He supposed she was right, but the fact still bothered him. It almost made him feel like the two came from completely different worlds now, despite feeling so similar in the past. “Maybe because I heard you were coked out with Declan Coyne and some guy named Micah. God... that stuff’s dangerous, Esme. You shouldn’t just go off doing it with random guys.” He almost sounded like a scolding father, which was ironic coming from Zig, who always seemed to be the bad influence in all of his relationships. Zig was never one for the harder drugs though, preferring a simple blunt over anything that needed to be ingested or snorted. “I don’t mean to sound like a dick, sorry,” He murmured, knowing his mouth was what got him into trouble with Esme last time. “But why do you have to do that stuff? The coke and the pills?”

Esme's night was only getting stranger, certainly not pacified by how oddly concerned Zig's face appeared to grow. It was strange enough to have him at her doorstep at such an hour, but to hear his sudden chastise was flooring, her eyes widening at the specific knowledge he suddenly possessed. "What the fuck?" She nearly choked, her hands raising to stop him from continuing. "I... wow, okay, first of all, that's not what I was doing with Declan. And how the hell do you know Micah? No random guys, what are you even saying? Why are you here?" Lifting one hand to her temple, her other reached back to the forgotten ice cream, anxiously taking a heaping spoonful as she walked farther into the house.

Zig crossed his arms over his chest, almost irritated that Esme seemed completely fine despite Frankie's evident concern. "Okay, then what were you doing with Declan?" He questioned, anticipating an answer that he most likely didn't want. "I... I just know, okay? Who it came from doesn't matter. I'm here because I was worried about you." It was probably best not to dance around the subject and simply be straightforward, as much as he didn't want to admit that a part of him was starting to care for the girl. "Which I guess was pointless since you seem okay to me."

Esme lifted her eyebrows as if to question his audacity - and perhaps his sanity. Who was he to be pressing her for answers, especially if he still hadn't explained why he was, or how he'd found out any of the things he was prodding into. "I don't think that's really any of your business," she returned calmly, stabbing the spoon into her carton to set it on the kitchen island. "He's a friend. The dance was a mess so we left and had a better time," she explained, not out of the feeling of owing him, but because she could tell he wasn't one to let up. She didn't accept his answer, too bare and vague for her liking, and she mentally recounted anyone who had known her at both school, a small enough list to narrow it down quickly enough. "Did... did Frankie tell you all of this? She sent you here to babysit me?"

Zig rolled his eyes at her response, wondering why he even expected a real answer from Esme in the first place. In the beginning, he liked the fact that Esme was shrouded in mystery— things were easier that way since they both only came to each other for one thing in particular. Now, he found it a bit bothersome that every time he tried to make any type of connection beyond sex, Esme was far too keen on pushing him away. "Well, I'm glad you two had lots of fun together, then," he responded with heavy sarcasm and a sudden urge to pummel a rich kid. At the mention of Frankie, he knew there was no denying that she was the one who passed along the information. "Really? Frankie didn't send me over here to babysit. She wanted me to make sure you were okay. Is it that hard to believe that she just cares about you?"

Esme "I didn't see you at the dance, so I can only assume you were having just as much fun," she accused, picking up on his upset. "Do we have a problem here?" He queried, aggression in her tone. Her eyes narrowed, at an utter loss to why he was so unhappy that she'd spent any amount of time with Declan. To her knowledge, they didn't have issue with one another, so it couldn't have been personal, and past that Esme had no idea what to think. At the confirmation that Frankie had outed her, Esme shook her head. "Unbelievable, that little bitch," she scoffed, reaching for her cell phone. It was a shock to say the least, and, coming after Esme offered to end her tryst with Zig, one she didn't think she deserved. But the damage was done, and it would seem that Frankie succeeded whatever in whatever her plan was. It was just sex, Esme reminded herself, so it wouldn't be the end of the world if Zig never spoke to her again. That was the logical way to see things, but her heart wasn't making that connection, giving her that sinking feeling since she'd answered the door. "She cares so much that she booked it from the dance the second she saw me - and left Declan, who was her date, if you really need someone to be mad at."

Zig "I haven't had 'fun' with anyone else in... shit, how long has it been?" The question was enough to make Zig stop in his tracks and try to recall the last time he hooked up with anyone who wasn't Esme. It must've been a month at least. Though, this choice was not intentional as far as he knew. He simply excused his behavior with laziness as opposed to anything else, knowing the draining effects of talking to more than one girl at once. "I don't have a problem, I came to check up on you. That's it. If you want me to leave I'll leave." It wasn't as if he felt the most comfortable there anyways what with being so out of place. "Whoa, hey, chill with the name calling. She's your friend, right? The one you drunk texted me about not wanting to lose? I'm sure there's a reason why she did it, so why don't you talk to her before getting pissy about it?" He suggested with such eloquence. "I don't wanna be mad at anyone, okay? I didn't come to yell at you or anything. Maybe to tell you that what you're doing is stupid, yeah, but I'm not mad." If there was anyone to be angry at, it was himself for even caring in the first place.

Esme, while still annoyed by his assumptions, was a little surprised to hear of Zig's unintentional loyalty to her. She'd figured he was running around with a stockpile of other girls in town, never giving it much thought, but now hearing the very opposite confirmed, she wondered why he didn't use his charm to his advantage. "Oh." she responded, feeling a touch of awkwardness that she couldn't say the same. His offer of retreat would normally be something she accepted straight away, had she not sent him away at the doorstep, but she couldn't bring herself to want the departure. Maybe she just didn't want to leave things with such a looming air of tension since she already had so many other important people not on her side. But was Zig important too? She stayed quiet, effectively allowing him to stay, and the silence continued through the small lecture. She set down her phone, knowing that in some sense he was right, as awful as it was to admit it. "She had no right to tell you about that stuff," she defended softly, seating herself at the island. Her eyes moved up to meet his, glowering for a moment at his insult. "I don't do it that often, and I'm sure you do your share of stupid things too, so I don't know if you're the right person to be telling me this. I'm fine, you said it yourself," she repeated, gesturing down at her body, now very aware she was still in her gown.

Zig took a seat next to her, sighing audibly as he did so. He nodded his head in agreement at her statement, also understanding that Esme had every right to her own privacy. Realizing this also made him realize that his visit may have seemed far too invasive. Granted, he never would have come if he knew she just got home from spending the night with Declan, but even so he felt somewhat bad for barging in unannounced. "You're right... I don't know if this helps, but I don't really plan on telling anyone, so..." If the information Frankie provided was meant to be kept a secret, then Zig would do his best to keep it that way. "I do a handful of dumb things everyday," He agreed. "But nothing that'll kill me... for the most part." Zig has made plenty of bad decisions in his lifetime, but none that he would ever consider life threatening— illegal, maybe, but not deadly. "And why do you have to look so good in that damn dress thing?" Even when she made no attempt to do so, she still managed to look captivating in anything she wore. He hated how attracted he could be to her, even in moments like this.

Esme could feel the rising unsettle in her stomach, a number of sources responsible. Most could be explained away easily enough, but Zig wasn't one of them. The sudden nerves as his tone softened, how she chose to believe his assurance. It was unlike her to put as much thought into relationships of any sort, but she wanted to be able to trust him, a far cry from the bare bones unions she'd forged with most anyone else. She shrugged at his promise, drumming her hand on the discarded and melting ice cream to appear casual. "I'm fine, Zig," she repeated, abashed. It took a moment to register that his next question was a statement, and not the aggravating line of inquiries, peering back over to him with a growing smile. "Low standards probably," she joked, struggling to accept the compliment in a lighter setting. Anxiously -for no good reason-, she combed her hands through her hair, messy from the impromptu couch nap, trying to pull it back into place, but it was a lost cause draped around her shoulders.

Zig watched as her fingers became tangled in a mess of raven waves, suddenly noticing that this was the first time he had ever seen her with her hair down. No matter how dirty they got in the past, her hair always managed to stay in its signature braid. "Why don't you wear it like that more?" He gestured to her head. "It looks pretty— not that you don't look pretty with your usual thing, but..." He turned away, suddenly feeling a bit awkward over how drawn to her he was. "Oh, hey, looks like your ice cream's a puddle now. Sorry, I guess I kinda distracted you from it."

Esme tried to brush the hair away before Zig noticed it was out of its usual state, but he was always one step ahead. "It's a long story," she cringed, letting the hair fall where it may. "Old habits die hard I guess. Clearly," she chuckled tensely, a nod to her others. Her hair had become a defensive mechanism over the years, something she didn't plan on becoming so strict about, but by now there was no going back. She'd forgotten about the ice cream she'd abandoned, only glancing over when Zig mentioned the state of it, Esme moving away to wipe the counter clean. "It's like, three in the morning," she announced, trying to center herself and pull away from the frighteningly sincere moment she wasn't prepared to handle. "Do you-" she paused, confirming in her head that she was okay with what she was about to offer. "You can stay here if you want. My dad went to see my mom, so he won't be back until tomorrow."

Zig nodded his head in understanding, aware that he would not be hearing that 'long story' anytime soon. Baby steps, he supposed. After Esme mentioned the time, he instinctively went to glance at his phone to confirm the numbers on his home screen. "Your dad's going to see your mom? So she doesn't live with you guys... but he still visits her?— y'know what never mind. Yeah, I'll stay." To him, it sounded like an oddly messy divorce, but he had done enough prying for the night, and decided it was best to drop the subject altogether. A sudden wave of exhaustion had overcome him anyways after realizing how late it was, and he was no longer in the mood to talk. "I've always kinda wanted to see how your bedroom looks," he noted, rising from his seat and waiting for Esme to lead the way.

Esme was kicking herself once again; it was a with terrible ease that she kept dangling breadcrumbs of her past into Zig's lap lately when it was something she damn well prided herself in keeping to herself with anyone else. Her only solace was that he didn't press the matter of her parents' situation, one she wasn't willing to unload. From the time Zig arrived, her state was different, and she was having a hard time getting a grasp on things. This wasn't in her repertoire, and it definitely wasn't part of the arrangement she and Zig had going, but there was no denying that it was a relief that he agreed to stay with her. "Okay," she accepted, flicking off the light behind her. She didn't plan on explaining her aversion to being alone, and it was a convenient excuse to use the time as a reason why it was beneficial to him, and nothing more. Ushering up the stairs and into her bedroom, she held her arms out for sarcastic fanfare. "Hope it's everything you wished for," she teased, turning her back to him with an "unzip me?"

Zig followed along up the stairs and to her bedroom, one that he found to be quite normal looking. A very anticlimactic reveal, indeed. Though, he supposed the excitement was about to begin now that Esme was literally asking him to undress her. He nodded obediently, moving closer so he could get a grip on the tiny slider and unzip her outfit. He watched as the dress fell to the ground, revealing Esme's bare skin that he had now been so accustomed to feeling. "So... are you gonna put your pj's on now or...?" For the first time, Zig felt a bit awkward initiating anything amorous towards her— like it wasn't the right moment despite Esme being stripped down to the bare essentials.

Esme hadn't meant her undressing to be anything more than a bedtime task, but that didn't mean she couldn't run with it. "You don't like seeing me naked anymore?" She purred, turning to face him and as a result, fully expose her bare skin. Initially it was nothing but a joke at his expense but now that she was able to see his face, she couldn't find the same lust in his eyes that her nudity always unearthed, and that made her much more nervous then being so physically vulnerable in the first place. It was suddenly very necessary to Esme to remind them both of who they were to each other, whether she really wanted to or not. "Should we..." she trailed, walking her fingers down his chest and down to his waistline.

Zig couldn't help but smile at her question. They both knew very well how heavily attracted they were to each other, but he wondered if there was anything beyond lust. "Uh... do you wanna just... sleep?" He almost felt dirtier asking for that as opposed to sex. Him and Esme never slept together in the literal sense— the act may have been too intimate for the both of them. "I mean, I'm down for anything!— But you're probably tired, and so am..." There was also the fact that she had just spent a night with Declan Coyne too, and knowing Esme, their plans went far beyond drugs and friendly conversation. Choosing to push that aside and not get worked up over it again, he offered a slightly uncomfortable smile.

Esme wasn't sure if it was offense that she was feeling; truthfully she wasn't sure how to feel at all about his dismissal, as uncomfortably polite as he presented it. She wasn't used to rejection, especially never from Zig but she knew by the way he backpedaled that it was a rejection nonetheless and even though she wasn't offering her services for her own benefit, it was a strange sting for him to want something so passive instead. The gut feeling was back that lines were being blurred, and prior to this night she never would have seen herself sharing a bed in such an innocent matter with the boy in question but she could acknowledge the relief she felt all the same. "Yeah... I'm pretty tired," she confirmed, swallowing the embarrassment of asking in the first place. Taking a step back from him, she stepped into her bathroom to wash off the evenings makeup, retrieving and ingesting a couple of routine medications before pulling a robe from the back of the door to sheathe herself, now feeling far too naked in more senses than one.

Zig made an attempt to clear up any misunderstandings, but by then it was most likely too late. "Not that I don't want to... but we don't have to have sex every time we see each other... do we?" The question was almost asked in earnest, as he pondered where exactly their relationship stood at the moment— or if they even had one, for that matter. When Esme agreed, he took a seat on the bed and waited patiently to complete her nightly rituals. Upon seeing her emerge from the bathroom, he groaned. "Shit, you look good in a robe too," He commented with false irritation before laying down and patting the spot next to him. "Ready?"

Esme wouldn't say that it was upsetting to hear Zig press the matter of their connection necessarily, but it did leave her feeling unsettled. "Isn't that our whole thing?" Her words held no ill will, really asking herself for clarification more than anything, but it was a double edged sword she walked along to hear what his answer might be. Pulling away from the too real moment, she couldn't help but smile at his admiration, one that had been growing on her. "I try," she teased, smoothing the plush fabric over her thighs. Standing at the edge of the bed she asked herself the same question... was she ready? Even though she'd been the one to offer, would she make it through the night beside him with her sanity in tact? It was noticeably more awkward to just linger at the side of the bed, so she put her qualms aside, peeling back her side of the bedding and slipping in beside him. "Yep," she chimed, too eager as she reached for the remote at her end table to turn off the lights above them.

Zig nodded slowly at her question, "Well, yeah... I guess so. Maybe it doesn't have to be though." The two had an unspoken agreement on what they both wanted out of their fling, but now Zig questioned where his true desires laid. He thought sex was the only thing he really got from Esme. Looking back though, he realized that maybe, just maybe he wanted more. It couldn't have been a coincidence that she was the only girl he hooked up with now, originally blaming it on his own laziness, but perhaps a part of him knew that wasn't the whole truth. In all honesty, Esme was the only girl who could capture his interest outside of the bedroom. Was this... a crush? Was Zig Novak actually developing a schoolboy crush on someone? The thought alone made him shift uneasily on the bed, but he began to relax at Esme's confirmation. As the two got into bed, he moved closer to wrap an arm around her figure. He assumed the whole ordeal would be awkward, but after settling into a comfortable position, everything felt... right. "Well... goodnight, I guess," He murmured, nestling his head closer to hers and taking in the scent of her flowery shampoo.

Esme figured the worst would be over just with the words exchanged, but the physical nature was the most dire. It was a sick irony, considering the basis of her relationship with the boy who now looked far too comfy in her bed, but she'd never quite mastered the intimacy aspect that was being thrown her way presently. She wasn't good with feelings -not that she was allowing herself to catch any-, nor did she ever see the point in making meaningful connections. She knew herself, and they wouldn't be built to last. Turning on her side as if facing away from him would calm her nerves, she tensed at the arm splayed around her, accepting it after a moment to save face. "Goodnight," she returned quietly, counting down the minutes until her sedatives would rescue her from the web she'd woven herself into.

#para #zig #zigncvak #p:luxury

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