#I haven't picked up my drawing pen for quite some time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

apocalypticavolition · 7 months

Text

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 3: Friends and Enemies

Welcome back to the reread, folks who don't want spoilers will be escorted out like this dude was in a picture that really depicts something from last book, but he's in this one, but it's all without context if you haven't read them. Also, read everything in the series, I will spoil all of it.

This chapter starts us out with a new icon: the ruby dagger. It typically symbolizes bullshit related to it, Shadar Logoth, or Padan Fain. In this case, it's mostly about Fain, but the dagger shows up too and gets infodumped for those of us who for some reason picked up book two without touching book one.

“Peace favor you, Rand al’Thor.” Ragan almost shouted to be heard over the bells. “Do you intend to go hit rabbits over the head, or do you still insist that club is a bow?”

Please someone draw Rand braining rabbits with his bow. Come on. You know you want to.

Rand recognized him, now, with his deep-set, almost-black eyes that never seemed to blink. They peered from his helmet like twin caves inside another cave. He supposed there could be worse luck for him than Masema guarding the gate, but he was not sure how, short of a Red Aes Sedai.

Oh dear. Masema is an interesting guy in that he continually threatens to be plot relevant and yet never quite hops that threshold because even at his most terrifying he is way behind the level curve. I'm really not sure what to make of him, though I'll give it a try as I reread this time around. For right now, it's worth noting that he starts somewhat unpleasant.

Ragan was an easygoing man, his manner belying his grim scar, and he seemed to like Rand. But Masema was already shaking his head. Ragan sighed. “It cannot be, Rand al’Thor.” He gave a tiny nod toward Masema as if to explain. If it were up to him alone. . . .

It's a real shame that the Wheel never got a Shaidar Haran / Nakomi avatar who could just laugh at how much it got to consistently punk Rand with the tiniest little details.

Perhaps he could find a length of rope. . . . He climbed one of the stairs to the top of the outer wall, to the wide parapet with its crenellated walls. ... He looked up at the nearest guardtower; one of the soldiers raised a gauntleted hand to him. With a bitter laugh, he waved back. Not a foot of the wall but was under the eyes of guards.

Rand: I'm sure that fortresses are built so that it's easy to rappel your way out of them! No one will even notice!

It sure is a shame he didn't have a mentor to teach him about warfare and defense, since both of these subjects will be very important to him going forward.

Gentled. Would it be so bad, to have it all over? Really over? He closed his eyes, but he could still see himself, huddling like a rabbit with nowhere left to run, and Aes Sedai closing round him like ravens. They almost always die soon after, men who’ve been gentled. They stop wanting to live. He remembered Thom Merrilin’s words too well to face that. With a brisk shake, he hurried on down the hall. No need to stay in one place until he was found. How long till they find you anyway? You’re like a sheep in a pen. How long? He touched the sword hilt at his side. No, not a sheep. Not for Aes Sedai or anybody else.

Rand's almost pathological strength of will is a great characteristic. He's completely out of any tenable options and he still refuses to play Moiraine's very fucked up game.

The armorer’s forge, with all the fires banked, the anvils silent. Silent. Cold. Lifeless. Yet somehow not empty. His skin prickled, and he spun on his heel. No one there... Angrily he stared around the big room. There’s nobody there. It’s just my imagination. That wind, and the Amyrlin; that’s enough to make me imagine things.

Is it this? Is Rand picking up on Fain's staring at him from his prison? Is he getting some paranoia from channeling the taint? All of the above?

Loial was watching them dice, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with a finger thicker than a big man’s thumb, his head almost reaching the rafters nearly two spans up. None of the dicers gave him a glance. Ogier were not exactly common in the Borderlands, or anywhere else, but they were known and accepted here, and Loial had been in Fal Dara long enough to excite little comment.

Loial! Mat's teaching him how to be a thriftless layabout! I'm so proud of them. Loial deserved more opportunities to be chilling while people did absolutely banal crap that he could still find fascinating.

That was something I had not seen before. Two things. The Shienaran Welcome, and the Amyrlin Seat. She looks tired, don’t you think?

Wow, Loial way to play into sexist narratives. You don't say this about Agelmar and that bro has had a lot more on his plate the past couple months and he's like a million times older.

Rand opened his eyes to see his friends straightening up out of the knot of dicers. Mat Cauthon, long-limbed as a stork, wearing a half smile as if he saw something funny that no one else saw. Shaggy-haired Perrin Aybara, with heavy shoulders and thick arms from his work as a blacksmith’s apprentice. They both still wore their Two Rivers garb, plain and sturdy, but travel-worn.

It's so rare having all three of these boys in the same room that I'm just happy it's happening at all.

“You’re as white as your shirt. Hey! Where did you get those clothes? You turning Shienaran? Maybe I’ll buy myself a coat like that, and a fine shirt.” He shook his coat pocket, producing a clink of coins. “I seem to have luck with the dice. I can hardly touch them without winning.”

Again, if Moiraine had wanted to fuck with people's clothing, Mat would have been all for it once she got him into a shop. And also note that despite a lot of misconceptions about this, Mat's been unusually lucky his whole life. It's just something about him that isn't even related to his being ta'veren. He only gets inexplicably lucky in book 3 though.

Perrin’s eyes lifted. Yellow eyes, gleaming in the dim light like burnished gold. Moiraine hasn’t hurt us? Rand thought. Perrin’s eyes had been as deep a brown as Mat’s when they left the Two Rivers. Rand had no idea how the change had come about—Perrin did not want to talk about it, or about very much of anything since it happened—but it had come at the same time as the slump in his shoulders, and a distance in his manner as if he felt alone even with friends around him. Perrin’s eyes and Mat’s dagger. Neither would have happened if they had not left Emond’s Field, and it was Moiraine who had taken them away.

That's some bullshit, Rand. Perrin almost certainly would have ended up a werewolf no matter what happened because the wolves were coming down from the mountains and while you can't know that, you can very much know that Mat disobeyed Moiraine. If he hadn't had sticky fingers and wanderlust, he never would have been cursed. You have so much bullshit to blame Moiraine for legitimately that this is just silly.

He knew that was not fair.

How dare you undercut my chewing you out in the very next sentence?

“Walls don’t stop a Fade,” Mat muttered. “Not when it wants to come in. I don’t know as laws and lamps will do any better.” He did not sound like someone who had half thought Fades were only gleemen’s tales less than half a year before. He had seen too much, too.

Mat's... sadly correct. There's no plausible way to stop a Fade from showing up in your house if it wants to be there unless you have the ability to light up every single surface and get rid of every shadow. The only reason that the Shadow hasn't just outright slaughtered humanity is that it's not actually in their interest to do so. And really, for all the shit people give pre-book 3 Mat, he's been a completely good friend and voice of reason in this seen.

“Easy, Rand,” Perrin said softly. “There is no need to be so rough.”

And meanwhile, Perrin isn't saying much, but he's playing peacemaker. It fits where Jordan seemed to be going with him.

“Isn’t there? Maybe I don’t want you two going with me, always hanging around, falling into trouble and expecting me to pull you out. You ever think of that? Burn me, did it ever occur to you I might be tired of always having you there whenever I turn around? Always there, and I’m tired of it.” The hurt on Perrin’s face cut him like a knife, but he pushed on relentlessly. “There are some here think I’m a lord. A lord. Maybe I like that. But look at you, dicing with stablehands. When I go, I go by myself. You two can go to Tar Valon or go hang yourselves, but I leave here alone.” Mat’s face had gone stiff, and he clutched the dagger through his coat till his knuckles were white. “If that is how you want it,” he said coldly. “I thought we were. . . . However you want it, al’Thor. But if I decide to leave at the same time you do, I’ll go, and you can stand clear of me.” “Nobody is going anywhere,” Perrin said, “if the gates are barred.” He was staring at the floor again.

And now Rand's being a dick. Mat and Perrin were nothing but supportive and concerned and he pushes them away because he has to be alone. I am begging writers to stop using this trope, it's annoying and forced drama and Mat and Perrin deserved better.

“I am not staying here,” Mat told the rafters, “with a bigmouthed Ogier and a fool whose head is too big for a hat. You coming, Perrin?” Perrin sighed, and glanced at Rand, then nodded.

And now Rand's shittiness is infectious and making Mat be rude to Loial, but it only gets worse with...

Rand made his voice harsh. “What are you waiting for? Go on with them! I don’t see why you’re still here. You are no use to me if you don’t know a way out. Go on! Go find your trees, and your precious groves, if they haven’t all been cut down, and good riddance to them if they have.” Loial’s eyes, as big as cups, looked surprised and hurt, at first, but slowly they tightened into what almost might be anger.

Loial is not your emotional dumping ground, boys. Y'all are only picking on him because he's soft and kind and you don't wanna fuck with a target that can fuck you up in kind.

Well, a voice in his head taunted, you did it, didn’t you. I had to, he told it. I will be dangerous just to be around. Blood and ashes, I’m going to go mad, and. . . . No! No, I won’t! I will not use the Power, and then I won’t go mad, and. . . . But I can’t risk it. I can’t, don’t you see? But the voice only laughed at him.

And we can see Rand's maladaptive coping mechanisms, with the very first hint of his shoving the parts of himself he's not comfortable with (in this case, the love he feels for his friends and his ability to channel at all) outside of his "self" and creating an emotionally unstable alter ego that he tries (and fails) to wrangle validation out of.

She jumped when he popped out right in front of her, and her breath caught loudly, but what she said was, “So there you are. Mat and Perrin told me what you did. And Loial. I know what you’re trying to do, Rand, and it is plain foolish.”

Egwene is 110% done with Rand's shit. Lan's idea that he could somehow wrangle her into abandoning Tar Valon is some hilarious projection.

Her hair suddenly made him angry. He had never seen a grown woman with her hair unbraided until he left the Two Rivers. There, every girl waited eagerly for the Women’s Circle of her village to say she was old enough to braid her hair. Egwene certainly had. And here she was with her hair loose except for a ribbon. I want to go home and can’t, and she can’t wait to forget Emond’s Field.

Rand, who wants "to go home and can't": Never makes any effort to establish communications with his father figure until it comes time to try and murder him.

Egwene, who "can't wait to forget Emond's Field": Regularly sends letters home throughout the series because that's where her family lives.

He turned to walk away, and with a cry she threw herself at him, flung her arms around his legs. They both tumbled to the stone floor, his saddlebags and bundles flying. He grunted when he hit, sword hilt digging into his side, and again when she scrabbled up and plopped herself down on his back as if he were a chair.

Foreshadowing for Merrilor, Rand's wounds, and her future occupation, all in half a paragraph.

“Men! When you cannot win an argument, you either run away or resort to force.” “Hold on there! Who tripped who? Who sat on who? And you threatened—tried!—to—”

Nynaeve ain't the only lady in these books who is hilariously hypocritical in her sexism.

Finally he told her what Lan had said. “What else could he mean?” Her hand froze on her arm, and she frowned with concentration. “Moiraine knows about you, and she hasn’t done anything, so why should she now? But if Lan. . . .” Still frowning, she met his eyes.

Heck, this is basically bookends with Merrilor: Rand and Egwene are having a stupid fight about bullshit where they're both right, and one half of the Moiraine/Lan duo ends up being how they come to hold common ground. And shit like this is why communication has to be so rare in this series, as soon as Rand tries it he starts getting results instead of ten thousand headaches and knife wounds.

“Rand, he has brought his wagon into the Two Rivers every spring since before I was born. He knows all the people I know, all the places. It’s strange, but the longer he has been locked up, the easier in himself he has become. It’s almost as if he is breaking free of the Dark One. He laughs again, and tells funny stories, about Emond’s Field folk, and sometimes about places I never heard of before. Sometimes he is almost like his old self. I just like to talk to somebody about home.”

If Fain hadn't sidestepped his fate, would Egwene's kindness here have gotten him back onto the path of the Light? But also... well, see below.

“Moiraine has said it’s safe? Egwene?” “Moiraine Sedai has never told me I could not visit Master Fain,” she said carefully.

Not even a Novice yet and already all over them three oaths. Also I love every aspect of their fight in this page and would quote it all if I had anything intelligent to say on the subject.

The man studied Rand, his upper lip quivering back to bare teeth. Rand did not think it was supposed to be a smile. “Well,” Changu said finally. “Well. Tall, aren’t you? Tall. And fancy dressed for your kind. Somebody catch you young in the Eastern Marches and tame you?”

Let's all relish the fact that this racist Darkfriend is going to be skinned alive in seven chapters, shall we?

“He’s waiting for you.” He thrust the lamp at Egwene, and undid the inner door almost eagerly. “Waiting for you. In there, in the dark.”

If this were in a horror movie, the line would be too corny.

“They know me better than that,” she said, but she sounded troubled, and she added, “They seem worse every time I come. All the guards do. Meaner, and more sullen. Changu told jokes the first time I came, and Nidao never even speaks anymore. But I suppose working in a place like this can’t give a man a light heart. Maybe it is just me. This place does not do my heart any good, either.”

Remember when I said "see below"? People, especially Egwene haters, talk about how since Fain corrupted the guards, Masema, Elaida, Niall, and Riatin, he should have corrupted her too. And yet Egwene doesn't seem to be anywhere near as fucked up as all of those people ended up being - she's stubborn, but in a Two Rivers sense, and arrogant, but not to the point of it being a fatal flaw. Rand doesn't talk about her eyes being messed up like he did with Masema. I think she managed to sidestep the effects precisely because she kept Fain out of Gollum mode and made him behave like a normal human.

Looking straight at Rand, hidden in the blackness behind the light, he pointed a long finger at him. “I feel you there, hiding, Rand al’Thor,” he said, almost crooning. “You can’t hide, not from me, and not from them. You thought it was over, did you not? But the battle’s never done, al’Thor. They are coming for me, and they’re coming for you, and the war goes on. Whether you live or die, it’s never over for you. Never.”

Is Fain channeling Ish's usual nihilistic shtick because his current metaphysical status is equally depressing, or did it just end up being shoved into him when Ish made him the Hound?

“Soon comes the day all shall be free. Even you, and even me. Soon comes the day all shall die. Surely you, but never I.”

Sometimes it feels like every villain in this series is convinced that they're some kind of metaphysical constant. Fain buddy, you're literally going to become more and more irrelevant to the point that your death is an afterthought in someone else's plot line. You won't even leave behind some kind of evil legacy through which it could be said you're surviving. You represent nothing because two separate authors couldn't figure out what to do with you.

“This was not a good idea, Rand.”

Haters take note of the fact that when Egwene fucks up she can just admit it and move onto plan B. Not her fault that Fain is super extra crazy today.

In the darkness, Fain laughed. “It’s never over, al’Thor. Never.”

Also, I just want to note: While obviously time being cyclical means that sure, nothing's ever really over, you might as well argue that it never really starts either. The Last Battle is coming and when it's done, it's done. Rand spends two years in shittiness and decades if not centuries doing whatever the fuck he pleases, and it's very unlikely that his next incarnation will be dealing with anything so extremely miserable - nor is it likely he'll have to recall all of his past lives like Rand did, so he won't even be aware of it all. The villains who insist at looking at the apparent big picture only make themselves crazy because they never get to see the whole of it.

Anyway though, that's it for this chapter. Next time, more Great Hunting!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #rand al'thor #ragan #masema dagar #loial #mat cauthon #perrin aybara #egwene al'vere #changu #nidao #padan fain

4 notes · View notes

wench-and-jezebel · 1 year

Text

NCIS Reaction: Seadog

Wench (@scripted-downfall) reacts [with (maybe) occasional asides by Jezebel (@typicalopposite)]

Love this song [Same :)]

Rude. They turned it off [So very! ☹️]

Rude apathetic person suddenly got way less apathetic

Dude, no shit, they probably fell off the boat when they got shot

Actually watching the intro this time… Heya, Tony. Abby continues to be adorable. (Yes, I know we've seen that scene but shhh) [I always liked it]

Weatherly looks so different without the glasses

YES. AVOID THE SEMINARS

Being rude to Tony againnnn :(

He's so happyyyyyyy

Buddy, just call shotgun earlier. It's called being quick on the... draw. HAH. Hah. Get it? Do… Jezebel, do you get it? [*silence*]

Dude, Tony was doing something alskdjf Leave him be

Oh, we've got the obligatory scold-the-local-law-enforcement-officer scene. (To be clear... I get the point but also. So strategically unwise. They kinda need the locals’ assistance, and that’s a quick way to get booted off the case, I’m about 99% sure.)

laksjdf Not Tony flirting with the reporter to get her number

[Ducky you savage] !!!

All the under-his-breath asides about that cop alkdsjf

I love Ducky's hat

And we've got cash

If they do not stop being jerks to Tony-

Mary Celeste? Ghost Ship-vibes

That wasn't the point, Kate, don't be obtuse. [☠️☠️☠️]

I appreciate characters who compulsively fiddle --- so much like me, fr --- so Tony's flipping the pen is great

Poor Ducky

alskdfjalkdsjf Duckyyyyyy [I love himmmmm]

Oh no not the anti-drug programme. I swear, people running anti-drug-programmes in these shows always get mixed up in actual drugs, and are usually innocent

"You five-0, ain't you?" Wrong show, actually :)

Man legit just climbed the fence

Leave. Tony. Alone. Plz.

"Untied States" alksdjfalksdfj Whoops

Gibbs, I recognize that you think you're hot shit, but you don't have to be an ass to everyone [😂😂😂😂]

ABBY SIGNS!!! YOU'RE AWESOME, MY DEAR! [YESSSS]

Her hair's more lab-accurate this time

Poor Tony :(

I love the name Jethro, it must be said

Reporter chick's not wrong

Poor Tonyyyyyy

HE'S LEARNING SIGNNNNN (...ish)

– – –

Be proud of me: I actually remembered the midpoint reaction! Woot woot!

I continue to enjoy the show… Not a fixation-worthy enjoyment yet, but I like it. Abby and Tony are still head-and-shoulders above the rest; then Ducky. Kate kinda annoys me, and, tbh, so does Gibbs. Writing has been decent --- yards better than CSI, which I regret knowing --- and acting's been decent (as far as I noticed)... Plotlines haven't been bad. Again, there's some iffy writing in terms of the actual cases --- I'm looking at you, parachute-death-last-episode --- but I haven't noticed any quite yet this episode.

Tony continues to be picked on more than is deserved. (You know, I might be fine with this if it were more evenly shared, but --- like with Alec in Dark Angel --- it's mainly just reserved for Tony. Maybe even more so, since there was at least Sketchy to share the picking-on in DA, but there's no one else here. [Once McGee is on it’s kind of a someone picks on Tony Tony picks on McGee situation] See, now that’s not bad! At least it's- I legit almost wrote consensual, but I *meant* mutual. Although, technically, ig, it’s both. [And it’s hilarious because once Ziva comes on McGee tries to do the same to her but she’s just like no] Oh nooooo. Guess I’ll see that when it happens. Love triangle, perhaps? I kid, I kid. Unless…?

Also, Kate and Gibbs both come across as very... I'll say self-confident, but that's putting it nicely. More like arrogant. They've got the same "I know what I'm doing" mentality that annoys the crap out of me in Max (DA), Sam (SPN), et al. And Gibbs has that whole I-don't-have-to-explain-myself-ever-because-I'm-hot-shit enigmatic thing working, and that always pisses me off too; like, just fricking talk, okay???? You've got a team; just freaking use it!

Aight… grabbing water and then continuing. (See, look, I don’t just drink coffee!)

– – –

Ya girl’s being healthy and fetched an actual dinner too, which is truly shocking… but now I’m ready, so! Onward we go!

Rolly tray

Y'all didn't have to do the reverse-Miranda-rights like that but, also, kudos to Tony for the sarcasm in the process

Once again; talk to your fricking teammmm

Tony, Tony, Tony... Your sarcasm is gonna get you in trouble soon

^x2

GIBBS IS SITTING ON THE AUTOPSY TABLE AGAIN. (That cannot be sterile)

I can't tell if those two are helping each other or tearing their business down; it might well be both

Puppy!!!

Okay, I swear, now they're comparing Alec-character to dogs again; whyyyy

They made the same joke in Dark Angel. Twice [☠️😂]

[☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ The whine. THE WHINE ☠️☠️☠️ Poor dog]

[Pew pew pew]

STOP WITH THE DOG COMPARISON, HOLY HELL [He (Tony) looked up] I’m sorry, but what does it say about how you treat your coworkers/subordinates that they’ll answer to dog whistles. This is worse than DW!Mickey and K-9 :(

Poor Tony lkajsdf

Poor Tony (again) not getting to interview the girls :( aksjdflkasjdf :)

Not the “low on testosterone or gay” plz

TONY GETS TO INTERVIEW THE GIRLS

Oh, the feeb’s being an asshole too

WHY IS THIS THE SECOND OF THREE EPISODES CONCERNED WITH TERRORISM! WHAT IS THIS, 24?!?! [A lot are I think.. it’s a military show ☠️] Yeah, well, it’s not a counter-terrorism show!!!

That was President Logan!!! His actor always plays sketchy people, but I love him anyway, ngl

“Chutzpah” is such a good word

IS THAT BELLE?!!? OH MY GOD, IS THAT BELLE?!?!? IT IS!!! OH MY FRIGGING GOD, EMILIE MY BELOVED!!!

[I love the accent] ikr. My sister hates Australian accents, but idk why

idk if that guy was hugging or injured, ngl

Tony's flirting actually worked! I had no doubt; serves them right for giving him shit about it!

Ngl, this whole conversation is just Tony’s version of Alec-vs-Max: “I’m thinking.” “You’re talking.” “I can do both!” “I doubt that.”

Go on, Tony, show 'em up for their doubts

Abbyyyyyy

Kate's annoying [Fun fact she’s blonde. She had to dye her hair EVERY DAY] Dedication from the actress changes nothing about my (current) dislike for the character alskdjf

"You're holding out on us! That is not nice!" Abby, my beloved

(scandalized): TONY

(scandalized): ABBY

Match made in... well, maybe not Heaven, but-

Y’all, can we stop the annoying teasing-about-relationships-and-flirting stuff? This is going on too long to be not-serious, and it’s annoying.

I. I think we might have found a show that has more terrorist activity than 24. And that’s centered around the Counter-Terrorism Unit. What the bloody hell. [😂😂😂😂]

Kate’s still being annoying

"He could just be doing his job" Yeah, the gun really sells that. Definitely just your ordinary power guy.

"Phone's got detonators" I'm shocked. It's almost like the plan was to detonate stuff.

The lights are on!!! Hell yeah!!!

Okay, but that background noise *cannot* be good for that recording

Y'all are a bit. Close. Wanna... take a step back there?

Whoa, first names. Is that allowed???

Isn't this the second time he's been picked up by this chick?

Thus is it finished!

– – –

Aside from the probably-excessive number of terrorist attacks — literally, I’ve seen three episodes, and this is the second one with a terrorist connection — I’m still enjoying it! Tbh, my opinion hasn’t much changed from the midpoint, so I don’t know what to add… I would say that the episode kinda… spiraled? Like, we were still on drug-running as of after halfway through the episode, and it suddenly became a 24 episode? Then somehow got resolved really quickly? But, pacing issues aside, it wasn’t bad! And that’s basically the only opinion shift from halfway through, so. There ya go!

‘Til next time!

#ncis #ncis reactions #reactions #episode reactions #leroy jethro gibbs #kate todd #tony dinozzo #abby scuito #donald mallard #s01e03 #seadog #wench (pr)

9 notes · View notes

penname-artist · 2 years

Text

Related subject to my previous post but this is just my fic updates in general here:

I'm actually really surprised that I haven't finished anything since my latest update. I mean, it's not like I'm on any sort of schedule, but I do have several pieces that are in the home stretch, they're just not *quite* to completion yet, and I haven't really had any major motivations to finish them. Like it's there, just. I'm not picking them up.

Now, that said, I have had plenty of new fic ideas. Just, not current fic ones. 'Privacy Lesson' - which has just been updated to an actual mini series called 'More Bang for your Buck' - is among those that is close to a second chapter but we are just not quite there yet and I'm not really getting any pulls from the muse to, you know, tie it up. (Figuratively. Although, in this series that's not a far assumption...)

I have quite a few other pieces that I'm just gonna describe as "in fragments" because they are not being written off of a traditional start to finish format. These are namely my bigger* projects which are 'Blindfall', a Smokejumper-centric series, and 'Sweet Child of Mine', the prequel of Blindfall, and basically Cabbie's whole ass backstory (or the really interesting bits, anyways). [*When I say 'bigger' I don't exactly mean larger by word count, although that may also be present. With these particular two fics, bigger mainly refers to them being much more difficult stories for me to write, given the amount of time I need for research.

Blindfall is an overarching storyline which, while focusing on Pinecone, does include the crossed over stories of all five main Smokejumpers, PLUS Cabbie, PLUS other family people, PLUS other Smokejumpers. And in the case of SCM, well...military topics are both not my forté and a generalized area of trauma trigger sensitivity. You can rest assured I'll be covering that part of Cabbie's life as lightly as physically possible; there's only one thing that happened in that time that's relevant and important. Other than that? Hard pass. This series is mostly about his upbringing and "father", and also his relation to the SJ because that's important. ANYWAYS now that I've blabbed on about that for too long]

I've also been dabbling off and on with various AUs, and it's kind of a hit and miss process; some of them are really fun to play in, some of them are fun but just too time consuming to really write. No idea whether I'm actually going to complete the drabble of one of those with personal meaning, but it does exist in some manner now.

There's some I really want to start too but I just haven't found the strength to just make another whole ass series or actually, you know, put in effort into things. I still want to do a Flysenhower and Kittyhawk 'Our Flag Means Death' AU, but it may end up more like drawings and attached mini stories as opposed to any kind of actual one-shot. I love the idea, I just. Don't want to do that much work, lol. But unless someone has any further ideas for it I really don't have any ideas beyond "Kitty Stede and Flysenbeard". Because gay pirates.

Okay all of those aside, I have more on my plate but I'm just too lazy to dig in my brain files for memories of where they're all at word wise. I have some drabbles prepped for Tumblr here in the coming "eventually"s, but for now, I'm making shit slowly and unorganizedly (trust me that is 100% a word) but eventually I will dump some kind of content at your doorstep.

I cannot guarantee that it will not be another kink thing or a pointless PWP, but. Content nonetheless.

I sleep now.

Til morrow, yadayada

-Pen

#updates #fic update #fanfiction #disney planes #disneyplanes #planes fire and rescue #disney planes 2

3 notes · View notes

northropi · 9 months

Text

this is terrible advice for anything except in retrospect, and even then i don't even know how right i really am, but i probably should have dropped out earlier. i'm probably gonna have to start making loan payments soon and frankly the job i have, which is pretty nice, seems like one i could have gotten on community college education- and meanwhile embracing my "get a real job" mentality during that time has kind of fucked me over royally. now that i'm not quite stable but getting there, art is sort of all i have emotionally, and, well, yeah i'm sorta in the worst art mood i have been in for a long time.

it doesn't help that we're sort of in a new generation of prodigies who are often too young to even be able to view the stuff i post, picking up modeling and code from an actual early age. yeah the TikTok ten-videos-at-once thing seems dystopian but frankly the kids are alright and i'm left envying that.

i have no portfolio. everything i've done outside of the last four years has been pen-and-paper sketches. while, like, yeah, valid, go traditional artists 'n' all, getting those online would be prohibitively complicated. Page after page to scan, page after page that's been rubbing together for years in a cheap sketchbook, my already faint linework rubbing away, eroding into nothing. so much must already be just lost to time. and in those four years, what have i done? not fucking much. Haven't been able to find the time, and when I find a bit I can't apply myself.

everything i do has an entirely different workflow as i try again and again to get somewhere fucking functional, and i've become acutely aware of how drawing for establishing concepts rather than for scenes and characters has left me with, and say that i'm good at <x> all you want it doesn't change the fact that i'm not good at <y> and <y> just so happens to be really fucking important, an extremely unbalanced skillset. i can't really draw the same thing twice- every drawing of a given character looks like a different fucking character. my perspective is wonky, and after that first attempt i don't know if i'll ever be able to do animation. and somehow i still have sameface issues!

writing dialogue comes out fucky because i can't make a character naturally sound like anything but myself, i don't know how basic shit like speech bubbles should look, there are huge gaps in my knowledge of the software, and, just, why was i not doing what i'm doing now seven years ago? fuck, why wasn't i on this site? i'd have been bopped by the porn ban probably but it'd have been good to have my foot in the door- i know i had a phase where i was all "ewww Tumblr" but i was never that bad.

i've often expressed when asked about how i think of my life that i've spent it. not doing things but on things. that it was consumed and given away in a transaction in hopes that i could start it later-but-better. and for all that life i spent, i was explicitly promised that the next phase of it would be easier. that really high school was harder than college and it was all just to test you, that the laid-back pace of university would be easier than my college once i transferred, and that jobs would be so easy to come by after university and so laid back that my life would be a breeze. each time was a lie- well, maybe it'd have gone better if i could have finished uni, but somehow i doubt that it'd fix my free time issue.

it was five years, and i proceeded to spend an additional two rotting at home. imagine if i spent those with some friends nearby, someone i could move out with on a basic job. nope. never made any. imagine if i had spent the years of unemployment at least being able to work on things- but no, i was being prodded at to get a job even in spite of diminishing returns, kept under so much stress that even on days where i had done my due diligence i couldn't focus. now i have a job, and it's devouring my time with the drive to get there and back, and this isn't even full hours yet. can't find the focus or time to get art done- but at least my high WPM and depressive episodes mean i can get bursts of writing done and look like a sadsack to the rest of the world, huzzah.

every day it becomes easier to look at something i admire and compare myself to it, but harder to learn from it. it's like i was born yesterday with nothing but snippets of trivia to my name- enough to let me fake it halfway through a Mechanical Engineering degree. and, yet, i feel old. i don't know how else to describe it. past my prime, like my brain isn't able to wire in new habits and like my time to work with what i have is sorely finite. i keep asking myself if life sorta just sucks- if anyone is able to really do anything off the clock or if all these people i want to be like are some privileged few blessed with more time than us dregs. and as for practice, hoooh boy, did i mention the family predisposition to dementia? how i suspect even my mother has succumbed to it at some point in her conspiracy rabbithole between the ages of 30 and 50? plus my liver being funny? the hole in my brain that's just fucking there? yeah i give myself until 50, and gonna be 26 in a month, so, shit, dude, at this rate, how much art can i do in my life? like being generous i'm halfway good, and it seems like i might be halfway dead, so doing the math i don't have a ton of hope.

at what point do i stop being stubborn and just comm someone better than me to do everything fuck

Anyways, yeah, like, between the stuff I took on in High School and higher education, that's, like, a decade of my life just... Poof. Gone. And now it's... maybe some background help I should be grateful for? But right now it feels like it wasn't fucking worth it. I could have made something. I could have really... Made something. Something not exactly real, but something good.

Do you know how deluded I was in that engineering phase? I thought I'd be designing planes just as casually as I drew them. I was aware on some level that I wasn't that good, but that lie of being gifted, it strung me along into thinking that, with enough training, I'd get there, because that's totally how the aerospace industry works. Oh, and working for fucking LockMart or some shit? No moral qualms there. Just like Gramps, the one you never knew because even your abusive mom considers him abusive, who worked on the T-28's ejector seat (a specific part of a modification to a preexisting design and he didn't even do that alone and yet your dumbass was just like "yeah I'll just build a plane from a sketch every week," you fucking megalomaniac), and then died in his house with his dog that always puked every time you saw it only like 10% lucid some months after threatening his social worker at gunpoint- yeah he's one of the dementia points btw.

You know how I feel? You know, like, shows, right, movies where the character isn't having a great time so they see a vision and it's like "wow glad that's not me!" It feels like there's some version of me out there that's, you know, starving artist, poor, wondering if she made the right choices, and she's looking at me right now, like, still pretty poor, but also fucking miserable and probably not gonna be remembered after she's gone, and looking at the genie or whatever the shit that brought her in like "wow! I appreciate my life much more now! Clearly artistic pursuits are worth pursuing over job security, even within the crushing confines of the capitalist system!" And like, Djinn, buddy, like, it's been 25 years in this weird AU you made to prove a point, doesn't feel like it sometimes, but can you do me a favor and just sort of merge this timeline back into that one so I don't have to see this through? Or, like, are you gonna show her my neglected, crumbling headstone too to really drive the point home?

Or maybe this is the good timeline, but that just raises further, darker questions.

...

I kinda want to believe I made the wrong choice, really.

#art #vent #rant post #morbid

0 notes

saal-school-project · 1 year

Text

Part 3

7th grade (2018-2019)

7th grade was the best. It probably wasn't that good, and I remember it with rose-tinted glasses, but I remember actually being happy and actually liking school. insane, I know. I had a really tight-knit friend group. I had a best friend who best friended me back. I loved math and I was good at it too (what a plot twist!). I worked out and ate healthy (well kinda, it was healthy compared to now). I had to get glasses because I messed up my eyesight just the summer before by playing so many video games and writing a lot, but I didn't mind. I still kept journals. My ramblings were still in Turkish but now sandwiched between lists of new English words I came across on the internet every day. I started using a pen some of the time instead of a pencil to write (That might seem like a really unnecessary detail, but over time I came to hate the feel of pencil on paper). My notebooks are much bigger now.

Oh, okay, I remember really wanting a Nintendo 3DS (handheld gaming console) to play Ocarina of Time (it's exclusive to the 3DS; well, thats the remaster version; the original is a N64 game). Now you don't have to own a 3DS to play Ocarina of Time; actually, just use an emulator. Tell that to my 7th grade self. I actually wanted to buy a Nintendo Switch and play Breath of the Wild, but that was too expensive in my mind, so I decided to go for a 3DS to satiate my longing. Gosh, I made a cardboard version of a 2DS, and I made it at school during the art lesson.

The thing is, Nintendo consoles really aren't popular in Turkey. PlayStation is, Xbox is, but Nintendo? Nope. That made things harder for me. First of all, there is no regional pricing; they sell the games dollarized, and the Turkish lira was losing its value against the dollar even back then. Well, to be honest, Playstation doesn't have regional pricing either, but since Playstation is widespread in Turkey, you can buy games secondhand for cheaper, which is not the case for Nintendo at all! Anyway, my mom had a friend living in the United States, so he bought one for me and sent it with international cargo. I had the intention to pay, so I picked one of the older models so it would be cheaper, but then he just gifted it to me. Not gonna lie, I wished I picked a better model.

Me playing pokemon x on my link edition 2ds. I put stikers on it.

Oh, remember how I mentioned that I wanted to make a game too? Well, during 7th grade, I designed some characters! It was very Hollow Knight and Undertale influenced. I want to make a platformer with 2D animation like Hollow Knight, but I also want it to be story-driven with fleshed-out characters like Undertale. It would be a weird combination. I haven't played that many different types of games yet, so I didn't know that there was a much better format for the game I was envisioning. I am sure I knew of visual novels back then, but I didn’t know of their potential yet.

I made quite a few designs, but I was only satisfied with three of them. I'm not going to show any of my designs here, but maybe one day.

Anyway, aside from me picking up a 2DS in 7th grade, the summer was uneventful. No wait, I also bought a drawing tablet for my laptop to make animations because I like animation!

Again this is a really cheap and small one, it’s kinda hard to draw on it. I recently formatted my PC, so most of the animation is gone now. (ignore my dusty keyboard)

Overall the 7th grade’s summer wasn’t that bad; I got new games to play on Steam too, but it definitely wasn't a blast like the last summer. A bit disappointing, to be honest. and the summer eventually ended.

#nintendo 2ds #drawing tablet

0 notes

lovelyghostlyharmony · 3 years

Text

how to train your dragon: how you met your dragon

Skrill-

Why did you do this? Are you insane? Just because you really want to train a dragon doesn't mean you let yourself be captured by Berserkers! You idiot! Well, to be fair, you did fly on one - for about a few minutes - then you fell and the Gronckle left you on the spooky island. And why you may ask? Because you didn't create a bond with it! And it was scared! It was a Gronckle! As you were pacing in your cell and waiting for Daggur to show up, a man suddenly broke into the hall. "We need you two outside! Some Whispering Deaths escaped!" And just like that, your guards disappeared.�� Well, now you can escape - you only need to figure out how. You looked at the bars, trying to find a weak spot or something, but you didn't find anything. Ugh, if only you had a key! You defeatedly sat down next to the bars, resting your back against the cold rocky wall. Are you going to die? Are you about to be slaughtered? Pf, you went to find a dragon and now you are going to be its food! This is surely your lucky day. You were just about to rest your head against the bars when you realized, that uncomfortable rocky wall wasn't upright. A little bit of the lower part was missing, making a distance between the wall and one of the metal bars big enough for you to crawl through. That's it! You can escape! You took your chance and began to run. You didn't remember where was the exit, so you just carefully followed your instincts. The very first thirty seconds went great, but then one guard spotted you. Oh no! You ran in a different direction and hide in a room. It was a really weird room, really. There were keys everywhere! Fortunately, the guard didn't think about checking the room, so you were safe... for now.

You looked around, admiring the key room. Well, it saved your life, after all. And apparently, it really liked you, because you spotted another door! You opened it and found dragon cages! There were no guards - they were probably still fighting Whispering Deaths - but there were lots of other dragons. Few Monstrous Nightmares, Deadly Nadders, Gronckles, and at the very back of the room a Skrill. Yes. A Skrill! And not just any Skrill. It was the one that met Hiccup and Toothless. You were in shock at seeing it. Didn't Hiccup set it free? Why is it here? The Skrill is intelligent enough not to be caught! You curiously went to its cage and found out the Skrill was kept in a little pool of water, so it couldn't shoot the lightning. "You poor thing," you said, but the Skrill growled. He looked frightened and hide in the corner, so the only thing you could see were spikes on his head and dark purple color. You badly wanted to touch it, but you knew that it would hurt you. "I will get you out of there!" You run back to the key room and checked all the keys. All of them were marked - and one of them had Skrill word written all over it. "Yes!" you said to yourself. But that was when the guard finally found you. "There you are!" he hissed and went after you. You reacted quickly and run towards the Skrill. He wasn't happy to see you, but when you tried to open his cage, he came out of the darkness and exposed his teeth. "It's okay. I want to help you," you whispered, but that was the time when the guard caught you. "No!" you yelled and tried to fight back but it was no use. The guard was stronger. You looked back at Skrill, finding him looking back. He wasn't exposing his sharp teeth anymore. He looked as if he was thinking. 'Well, hopefully, he is intelligent enough to see, that I am not his enemy,' you thought. 'Or else, I'll be dead.' Just as the guard finally realized you're not fighting anymore, he loosed his grip. But that was a bad move for him because you easily slipped out. "Hey!" he roared surprised. But it was too late. You opened the Skrill's cage. You didn't know if you should have been scared or happy, but either way, it was your only chance. He was your only chance.

And he knew that!

That's why he quickly flew out of his pen, taking you by his strong legs, and passed the frightened guard. You just hang there, shielding your eyes from the wind and waiting for the Skrill to find the exit.

Now and there he shot the lightning, but it didn't scare you. You somehow started to trust him. Well, you saved him and now he is saving you - and that's enough to begin to bond with a dragon, right?

After he found his way out of the Berserkers' island, he landed on some rock. "Thank you," you said. He just purred, placing his body right in front of you, watching your every move.

You looked away. "It may sound crazy, but even though people are more afraid of you than of the Night Fury, I don't. I trust you." You reached out your hand towards him, focusing your eyes on the ground. "Do you?"

The Skrill placed his nose against your palm and you smiled.

"Now, what should we call you?" The Skrill looked at you with his big eyes, understanding your every word. Just as you were thinking, he shot his lightning towards the clouds. "Hm, Bolt?"

He didn't complain, so you smiled and scratched his scaly skin. "Bolt it is then. How about I introduced you to my family and feed you some fish?"

As much as Bolt enjoyed the scratching, he licked his mouth and lowered his body, so you could hop on. This was the start of your relationship.

Hideous zippleback-

It was late in the morning and you were just leaving your house. You had a great dream and you were well fed. 'Well, this is going to be a really good day,' you thought. You headed towards the woods and soon found a little cave. It was small as your bedroom and it had this really big opening that kind of looked like a large window. "Hello," you greeted your two friends, Odias and Hanka. "Here is our sleeper!" said Odias amused, while he was drawing something on the paper. "Why do you always sleep so long? It's almost lunch!" "Gotta get my beauty sleep." You sat down next to Hanka and asked: "What have you guys been doing?" "Playing with Bea," she simply answered and took the little Terrible Terror from the ground. "She is so lovable, isn't she?" You looked at Hanka's bright red dragon and scratch it under the chin. "Yeah, yeah," you agreed, but you haven't sound as enthusiastically as she. "Why don't you get your own little dragon?" She asked you and smiled at the thought. "Err, but it's just a Terrible Terror. What's the point of having a dragon, if you can't ride it?" Suddenly, Hanka became angry. She couldn't believe what you just said! She felt insulted. "What's the point of having a dragon, if you're not brave enough to get one!" "What did you just said?!" You two stood up and faced each other. "I am brave!" It was normal for you to have a fight with Hanka. I mean, she has been your close friend since kindergarten and arguing with her was quite normal. "Then prove it!" "Fine!" And without another word, you left the cave. You needed to chill out. The forest was warm at this time of the year so you decided to take a short walk. "Not brave enough," you mumbled under your breath. "I'll show her." After like ten minutes, you found two Terrible Terrors playing with each other. You sat down next to them and they curiously came closer. You scratched one Terror's head and it purred. "You dragons are soo easy to get." You picked one up. "Come on. Let's get you to Hanka." Terrors still thought you are playing so they didn't mind going with you. They looked really happy, but you were so annoyed, you almost didn't see a movement from behind the bush. "Who is there?" you asked out loud while placing the Terror back on the ground. "Hanka?" Is she stalking you? Or is just someone pranking you? "Show yourself!" The creature came from behind the bush and your eyes opened wide. It was a goldish green Hideous Zippleback with red spikes. Its heads were calmly looking from you to Terrible Terrors. The Hideous Zippleback probably sensed you were a friend to dragons and that's why it came from its hiding place. "Well, you will help me with my 'Hanka problem' just fine," you smiled, forgetting all about two Terrible Terrors. You reached your hand and touched one head. "But maybe I should name you first." You touched another head and scratched it. The Hideous Zippleback liked it and fought for your attention. It was amazing how one dragon can have two personalities. "How about Vengeance and Revenge? I think it'll suit your next task." *** "Where are you?!" yelled Hanka. "Look, I am sorry. I shouldn't have said you're not brave!" "Yes!" agreed Odias, yelling as well. "She is an idiot! Now don't be angry! Show up!" They have been searching for you in the forest for the last ten minutes and your amusement just grew. You have been looking at them from the sky (of course, you have been riding Vengeance and Revenge as low as possible for your friends not to see). "Show yourself! Please!" While Hanka yelled, Vengeance quickly showed Odias from the ground and put him onto his neck. He looked shocked but after he saw you, he grew mischievous as well. "Odias! Where are you?!" Vengeance and Revenge hid themselves in the bush and when Hanka turned around they roared. "W-who is it?" She held her Terrible Terror so tight you had to cover your mouth not to laugh. "Now," you whispered to your new dragon and it jumped from behind the bush. Hanka fell on the ground looking pale as the moon and breathing heavily. You and

Odias burst in laughter, jumping from the dragon. "Got you!" "What?" asked Hanka. "That's my new dragon. Vengeance and Revenge," you said casually. "Still think I am not brave enough?" Hanka stood up - but she didn't look angry nor pale. She just looked sorry. "Ok. I am sorry. You got me." You two smiled. "But seriously, you've got yourself a dragon and named him Vengeance and Revenge just to show me up?!" "Yep." "Well, I should've known." "Wanna ride?"

(had to put that gif there lol)

Razorwhip-

It was that time of the year when Gothi gave you a list of ingredients you needed to find on the Healer's island. You really liked doing it. You had a free day for yourself just collecting flowers and stuff. Who wouldn't want that, really? Every time, you pick some random Gronckle to give you a ride, so you don't have to get to that island on the boat. You really liked Gronckles, but they weren't your type of a dragon. You wanted a strong and fast one. But there wasn't enough time to find you your own dragon, so you just used Gronckles when they were needed. It was a really great day. Sun was shining, birds were singing and your basket was slowly being filled. At the time you were heading towards the rare yellow flower, you heard a loud sound - as if someone was smashing a piece of metal against another piece of metal. It was weird. As you were wondering what could be possibly making that sound you saw it. A female Razorwhip. From what you could see, it accidentally got its long neck in the rope that was hanging from the tree and when it was trying to broke free, it sliced the tree in half and as the tree fell on top of the dragon, it knocked off one big stone from the rock wall and that stone fell on the dragon's wing, trapping it completely. "Oh my gods!" you exclaimed looking at this mess. You immediately dropped the basket for Gothi and made your way towards the poor Razorwhip. Your steps were slow, but that didn't stop the dragon from being scared. It raised its tail and shot the spines but because of the fallen tree, it was unsuccessful. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you!" You made your way back towards your basket and found a dragon nip you store there for Gronckles. You picked it up and made your way back to the Razorwhip. You didn't get too close, of course, just enough for the dragon to smell the dragon nip. When you saw that the dragon relaxed, you decided to come even closer. And fortunately, the Razorwhip let you. You let her smell the green plant some more, but then you let it fell to the ground so you'd get the dragon's full attention. It was a girl - cause it had really long eyelashes - and her eyes were, unlike Windshears, red. But not bloody red, more like strawberry kind of red. "Now let me help you," you said while reaching your hand. Razorwhip had to be really intelligent because it pressed its scaly head against your palm, letting you touch it. She probably knew you were her only chance now. After you caressed her smooth metallic grey scales on the head you took insight into her full appearance. Well, you definitely needed some help with that stone on her wing and also with that entire tree, but the loop on her neck could be removed easily straight away. "Now I will take my knife and cut that rope off your neck, okay?" you informed her. "Please don't freak out, I won't hurt you with that knife."

Razorwhip purred, so you carefully took out the knife from your pocket and did as you said. The dragon didn't even flinch. "You're a brave girl, you know?" you said happily because it went so easy. "How about I call you Fearless?" She looked happy since her neck wasn't in the loop anymore so you could tell, she was content. "Now how do I take care of this?" You made your way towards the stone and then the idea hit you. "Wait here I'll get some help!" Fearless roared for you, but you ran away. Soon, you came back - but on a happy green Gronckle. "We'll get that stone away, okay Fearless?" you asked and fly towards it. "Don't worry, it will be over soon!"Gronckle's strong legs lifted that rock up and placed it on the grass. Then you made Gronckle do the same with the tree. It was tough at first, but with Fearless's help, you actually managed to break her free. "That's it!" you yelled happily and quickly made Gronckle land on the ground, so you could hug Fearless. "I told you I'd help you. Is your wing alright?" She raised both of her wings straight up to the air, showing you her strength. You laughed and waved at the leaving Gronckle. "Now, do you want to help me found a yellow flower? After that, we'll get you some sea slugs and you could come home with me back to Berk!" You were really excited about creating a bond with her! But so was she.

#httyd fanfiction #reader insert #dragons #my imagines #imagines

92 notes · View notes

gremlinguy145 · 3 years

Note

A bit silly of a prompt but Eda introducing Rayne to Luz and Luz shows Rayne the wonders of anime openings and they bond over that for some reason and Eda is just like "wtf". (You can just guess what Rayne would be like as a character since they haven't debuted yet)

Not usually my type of prompt but this was such a good idea I couldn’t help myself, so here it is:

When Eda had first entertained the idea of introducing Luz to Rayne, she had expected the usual antics of Luz’s energetic questioning about her “mysterious past”, maybe a few of those hugs of hers that Eda refused to admit that she actually enjoyed, but this?

This was hell.

Ear gratingly annoying music blared from the speakers of Luz’s phone, singing in some sort of human language Eda hadn’t the faintest clue of how to understand, and just as bright and colourful cartoon drawings accompanying the music. Eda had half a mind to burry her face into the couch cushions and scream at the top of her lungs or go chug a bottle of apple blood just to distract herself from all the noise.

Luz and Rayne sat in the middle of the living room floor on the rug, papers and pens littered around them like an explosion had happened, though Eda supposed Luz herself was enough of a cause for that on her own. Luz had her legs folded up with her phone raised up so Rayne was able to see it, the bard witch on their knees as they intently watched on, nodding their head along to whatever ramblings the human was spewing out and returning the energy with equal vigour, bouncing along to the music and happily jotting down notes and writing out annotated scores of the music as if it was some grand masterpiece and not just from some silly human cartoon.

Eda had never really seen the appeal of these “anime cartoons” as Luz had tried to explain them to her, she couldn’t see the point of sitting there for hours and watching those horribly anatomically inaccurate characters with their huge eyes babble on about Titan knows what, but Luz adored them, and that was already enough for Eda to put up with it if it made her happy, goodness knows the kid needed some serotonin in her life.

Another loud obnoxious note from Luz’s phone drew Eda out of her thoughts, causing her eye to twitch involuntarily. For Luz- this was for Luz, she could hold on just a little longer- even if it damn near killed her.

It was strange to see the now normally grumpy and stoic Rayne filled with such childlike wonder, but Eda definitely wasn’t complaining. It had been a long time since she had seen Rayne looking so happy, just like they were when they were younger, back when they were just two dumbasses doing stupid things just for the sake of it and to get away from their responsibilities for even just a few minuets. Sure, they hadn’t gotten along very well at first, (and their reunion had been just as messy) but it hadn’t taken long for them to become friends, thick as thieves, and an even shorter amount of time for the usually rule abiding, “voice of reason” Rayne to turn into, quite frankly, a huge moron.

Eda loved that moron with her whole heart.

If dealing with this horrid noise made the people she now considered family happy, then hot dang she was going to do it.

“And this next one is from one of my favourite shows ‘Ouran Highschool Host club’!” Luz announced from the middle of the room, earning a little ‘ooh!’ from Rayne as they bounced in excitement a little, clapping their hands together excitedly as the starting notes picked up.

Eda groaned loudly into the couch from her place face down on the cushions and resisted the urge to tear her hair out. Let one thing be known, she may be tolerating it for now so two of her favourite idiots could bond, but there was no way in hell she was going to enjoy it.

Or at least that’s what she had told herself two hours ago, now quietly humming along and watching on with a smile as Luz and Rayne belted out the lyrics to their heart’s content.

Hugging her cushion and nestling into the couch with a small, content smile as she watched over them, Eda vowed to never, ever, ever, admit that she secretly enjoyed this.

........Well, if she got to keep seeing Rayne smile like that, maybe she might consider it-

#luz noceda #the owl house #Eda Clawthorne #Eda the owl lady #rayne #rayne toh #toh #prompt fic #ask prompt #Eda x rayne #@batgirl-is-gay #Raine Whispers

51 notes · View notes

catzula · 4 years

Text

Don’t be late.

Warnings: Cursing, 4.5 k words, fluff in general, Bakugou being a dumbass, reader is always late.

a/n: I genuinely had fun writing this fic and I hope you guys have fun reading it!

Synopsis: you're a student at the support section and since Bakugou literally drove everyone else insane, you were the last person that would help him with his costume. Little did he know that you had a crush on this sparky sparky boom man.

Everybody in the support section just hated that one guy. That guy named Bakugou who would practically harass people until he got what he wanted. Well, okay, almost everyone who knew Bakugou hated him but people in the support section hated him in a whole new level.

He was a nightmare. Nobody could even stand him.

Well, nobody except for you. You thought of him as intriguing, as well as a pain in the ass. But even him being a pain in the ass could be justified in your eyes, you knew he was doing all this simply because he was a perfectionist. Of course he could tone it down a bit, but... That would.be very out of character, wouldn't it?

He thought of himself as the best and it shouldn't be a surprise, for him to want to have a hero costume that was also perfect. You could understand that, but it still didn't change the fact that he was the worst kind of customer anyone would ever have to work with.

He had never worked with you though, he was in class 1/A for gods sake, of course he didn't work with you... Well, that until he ran out of people that would help him willingly.

"You know what? I'm done. Go fuck yourself." Were the words that echoed in the room, suppressing even those deafening machine sounds. Your friend threw Bakugou's costume in his face harshly, still cursing under his breath.

"Tch, whatever! You're just some extra that can't even do what I asked for." You watched Bakugou as his upper lip curled threateningly, reminding you of a wolf, and boy did he look pissed. Like, really pissed. His crimson eyes glaring at the guy in front of him, who was packing his supplies and trying to get away from this angry dude as soon as possible.

"That's the thing, Bakugou! What you want doesn't exist! I don't have these miraculous powers that when I snap my fingers your costume just turns into something else. You have to give me details of what you're asking and you have to ask something that makes sense! Not just some dumb idea that popped into your mind!" Everybody knew that was a lie. Bakugou always had the most amazing ideas, so creative and so... Logical. It's just that they were too... Much. To much to execute, they were brilliant but not doable.

"First of all, it does make sense, it's you who can't understand! Second of-"

"Whatever, Bakugou. I'm done with this shit. Go find someone else to help you with your costume."

"Who the fuck are you to not let me fucking talk? I will fucking kill you-"

"That's enough Bakugou." A monotone voice that came from the door made Bakugou freeze. You knew this black haired guy, he was the Eraserhead! You saw him around the campus but never from up this close!

Bakugou looked at his teacher, never losing that wolfish expression on his face, and he exited the room without saying anything, which was a first for everyone in this room. Eraserhead also exited, looking like he was about to go in a coma.

The room was still silent, until it wasn't.

"Oh my God, what a fucking jerk."

"I can't even believe how you managed to put up with him that long."

"He's not even that good."

Lie. That was a big fat lie because Bakugou may not be a lot of things but he was that good. Still, you chose to stay silent, your eyes still glued to the door he just exited from.

He amazed you, really. You noticed him the first time he came to the support section, his aura screaming confidence. He started to come there frequently, making everyone else go crazy, but you just kept noticing small details about him every time he came there. He was an asshole, no one could deny that, but he was also amazing.

It was amazing how determined he was, even though it was a pain, his perfectionism also left you in awe, how smart he was, how confident he was, how strong he was...

You realized your big crush on him the day you saw him on that sport festival. The other people thought it was so unheroic of him to go that hard on Uraraka, which was so stupid. Didn't she also want to be a hero? Wasn't she going to the same school as him, going through the same trainings? It was only normal for him to beat her, because if he didn't, she would have beaten him. Would people tell her it was so rude of her to go that hard on him too? No, you thought he was astonishing to act the way he did.

Him being so proud, not accepting the first rank made your heart beat faster. He was just so strong, so proud, so vulnerable it made you want to hug him tightly and tell him that he was your hero.

Not that you would ever have the chance though, or so you thought.

He came back not even after a few days, making everyone groan in frustration. He went straight to the table that displayed the recent projects that were done. The table existed to give an idea of what anyone could do so they could choose along shit what they had in mind. So that meant, who's item he chose would have to work with him. All of you eyed him, waiting to see who was the very unlucky person.

He picked one invention of the table, looking somewhat intrigued, and looked around the room trying to guess who it belonged to. When he couldn't guess he went to the nearest person and shoved the invention in their face. "Who does this belong to?!"

The person he was holding eyed the object he was holding suspiciously, relief written on his face when he saw it didn't belong to him. "I think that's Y/N's."

You could hear the sighs of relief around the room. So did he, but he didn't seem to care. Instead he walked towards you, he was so close you could smell-

Why on earth did he smell like... Caramel?!

"Is this yours?" You felt the tingling sensation of excitement all over your body, giving you goosebumps. "It is." You answered, which made him narrow his eyes, looking at you suspiciously.

"Is it really yours? You did this?" Now that was straight up rude. "Yes, it's really mine, asshole. What kind of a question even is that?!"

He shrugged shit a smug grin on his face. His eyes wandered over you, looking at your (e/c) eyes, your face, your figure, and his grin grew wider.

"I haven't seen you around here before." Ah, the angry boy was back. His upper lip curled ever so slightly, looking at you like you were some lowly human. "Oh yeah? Well I have seen you quite a lot here. You know, while you were making everyone else go crazy."

Your answer turned his face red with anger but -a miracle- he was holding back! You could see it was really hard for him not to scream insults in your face but he was aware that you were his last chance. Oh didn't that just boost your ego. Now it was your turn to look at him with a smug grin on your face.

"Whatever." He mumbled pulling you to the nearest table. "What are you-" Before he even let you finish he shushed you and lay down the papers he was holding on the table. You looked at what's on the paper, it was a costume drawing, a really detailed one at that. As you got closer to the paper, inspecting it, he was watching your every move with narrowed eyes.

After you memorised everything on the paper you bir your lip, trying to hide your admiration. "Did you draw this? Are these all... Your ideas?"

The drawing wasn't amazing but it was neat, everything was calculated to the very core, the ideas were so clear on the paper, making you feel like you only had to follow these instructions and do nothing else. "Yes, of course I drew them! Everything you see there is mine." He said angrily but you could see he wasn't actually angry, just proud.

"Well, they're pretty good, if I'm going to be honest." You said trying to hide your excitement. You traced the drawing with your finger.

"I know they are. But can you do it?" His smug grin was back and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. Could you do it?

You smiled sweetly and surely enough he smiled back, already knowing your answer.

"Nope."

His smile dropped, leaving it's place to a furious look in his eyes. "You dumbass, then why the fuck are you wasting my fucking time?!" He screamed, people around you shot you a knowing look. He pulled the paper of the table harshly, about to leave when you held his wrist and made him stop.

"Can you stop for a fucking minute and listen?" His eyes widened when he heard you cursing, a big contrast to your sweet tone and face. "I can't do this, but neither can anyone else."

"What the fuck does that mean?" He screamed making you winch. "Can you just- shut up for a second? This is not possible, get that in your bigass head. But-" you stopped thinking for a second. You shuffled around the drawers in search of a pen. "But, I can do this instead. This would be much more possible, and it would give you what you were aiming for. Of course it wouldn't be the same but the end product will be helpful."

You said quickly sketching your idea on the paper, as quick as possible before you forget what you were thinking about.

When he saw what you drew his burrows furrowed and for a second you thought he was mad at you but instead he huffed. "Tch, not bad I guess." He said, but internally he was so impressed that you actually came up with this alternative in a few seconds of so.

"Wait, does that mean you'll work with me?" You said eyes open wide. Well the question was more as, would you work with him, but he didn't say that. "If you can do it, I will."

"That's amazing, now I finally have a worthy client!" You said excitedly and on of his burrows went up, sending you an questioning look. "Worthy of... You?"

You shot him a killing glare but stayed quiet. "Let's work on this idea a little more, what do you say?"

He shrugged. "It's too noisy in here. Lets go to the library." He said ready to pull you out of the room but you shot a glance at your phone, pouting. "Can't, I gotta finish this side project today. Meet me at the library tomorrow? How is 4pm?"

He wasn't really happy since you couldn't work on it immediately but he had to be a little nice to you, not just because you were the last person that would actually help him, but your idea was also pretty good. "Tch, whatever. Don't be late."

You smiled sweetly, making his heart beat a little faster. Why did his heart beat this fast? Was this your quirk or something?

"Bye Bakugou." You waved as you started to sketch something on a sheet of paper.

***

Bakugou was sitting in the library, shooting angry glances at the clock. When he saw you coming towards him with a big smile on your face, your hands full of papers, books and stuff, he felt his heart jump. This had to be your quirk.

"Hey! So I worked on this idea we talked about yesterday and-" Before you even sat next to him you started to talk without even stopping to breath. "You're late." He murmured with and angry look in his eyes, you looked at your watch and smiled apologetically. "Oops, sorry, I was with Shinsou about- well that's not important is it? It's 5 minutes anyway."

Bakugou had always been an angry individual but today he could practically feel his explosions itching for him to release them. You saw the look in his eyes and laughed, "Hey, chill out. I'm sorry, alright? I'll make it up to you with a coffee, how does that sound?"

Bakugou didn't even like coffee but he couldn't refuse this offer either. "If you get there in time."

You laughed once again, a sweet sound that made Bakugou feel proud, even though he didn't even know why he was proud. "Yes, yes, I'll be there on time. But let's discuss this now." You lay the papers down, showing a few new sketches.

You both worked on it for a long time, even though it felt like a few minutes at most. You sometimes felt his gaze on you, instead of the paper in front of you, which made your cheeks flush red.

"So um-" you said, not really sure what to even say. "This was nice."

He had never heard anyone from the support section say that working with him was nice, but he still took the compliment. "Meet me at the coffee place tomorrow? Since it's weekend we can meet a little earlier too."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at you. It was weird having someone who actually wanted to work with him and it felt odd. A good type of odd, if he had to confess.

"Don't be late." He said.

You laughed. "I won't."

***

You were late.

Bakugou was about to go crazy waiting at the coffee shop. He felt so stupid for waiting for you but felt even worse for not being able to leave. His mind kept making you excuses, every time the door opened he felt his heart jump and that made him so angry at himself.

He was about to leave when the door opened once again, this time it was actually you entering. His eyes widened when he saw you, you looked incredibly pretty without any dust smeared on your face, your (h/c) hair in a cute style that enhanced your beautiful face and was that... Make up? He wasn't sure, hell, he never even realized any of these things before. But he couldn't take his eyes off of you and felt his anger die inside him.

You saw him and your eyes shined in a way that made him want to smile too, a cute smile was on your face when you came to his table.

"You're late!"

"That can't be I'm actually-" you checked the time and pouted. "Oh, I'm late."

His eyebrows furrowed, so he wasn't even important enough for you to actually show up on time? He was about to say something mean but held his tongue when you giggled. "I actually left the dorm an hour early to be here before you..." You shrugged. "Apparently I'm incapable of actually arriving anywhere at the time we agreed on. I hear this all the time, I just can't get anywhere on time!"

He felt a little better knowing it wasn't only him, but still. He was Bakugou Katsuki for Gods sake! He wasn't just someone, he was the future number one hero. Still, he couldn't help but feel good knowing you intended to be here early.

"Whatever." He said not looking at you. "No, I'm actually sorry!" You said biting your lip.

"It's whatever. Let's just get some coffee and get this shit done with." You felt a sharp pain in your chest, he wasn't wrong, but it felt bad hearing that from your crush. You should have known he wasn't actually interested in you, he wouldn't have chosen you if you weren't his last chance.

You still didn't let that spoil your mood, at the very end you were here, drinking coffee with him, weren't you?

"Well, what would you like to drink?" You asked, taking your wallet out of your handbag. His eyes shined with anger when he saw what you were doing.

"Like hell I'll let you pay for it!" He said, stopping you.

"But this is for making you wait yesterday!" Feeling his hand holding you made your heart jump. "And well... Today too." You added.

"I don't care, I said I won't let you pay, and I won't."

"But-"

"Stop arguing for fucks sake!" You closed your mouth at that. "O-okay. Well I'll have (your favorite beverage)." You saw him smile at your answer and stood up.

You were trying to calm yourself while he was buying you coffee, didn't even realize someone was calling your name. "Y/N!"

A hand touched your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. It was a certain indigo haired boy who looked very much sleep deprived. "Oh, Shinsou!" You smiled sweetly. You have helped him a lot before, which ended with you guys being close friends.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, even though it was a stupid question, he was addicted to coffee. "Well, duh." He said, shaking the carton of coffee on his hand. You smiled at that. "But what are you doing here?" He looked around to see anyone familiar that you could be waiting for. He saw Bakugou ordering coffee, but it was such an impossible thing for both of you to be together so he didn't even think about it.

"Well I uh..." You didn't even have time to answer when an angry boy came close to your table. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Shinsou's eyes widened ever so slightly looking at the angry boy, and then back at you. "You're here with him?"

"You got a problem with that?" Bakugou asked, taking his seat right across you.

"Well, we're working on his costume." You said sensing the tension.

Bakugou scoffed, apparently not happy with your answer. "Well, okay. I'll see you around?" Said Shinsou, you could understand why he was walking away, since his motto was stay out of drama. "Yeah, sure!" You smiled sweetly, feeling a little bad because you felt like you were dusting him away.

"Are we gonna start working or not?!" You flinched when you heard him scream, a sinking feeling reminding you once again, he wanted nothing to do with you other than working on his costume.

"Sorry." You mumbled. "So I um, worked on this a little more after you left and I think it would be much better if we changed this to this. Because otherwise it would be too heavy."

Bakugou scoffed. "Hah, I can handle heavy." You glanced at him, surprised by his unnecessary narcissism. "Yeah, I know. But still, wouldn't it be better if it were lighter?" He stayed still for a while then shrugged.

"Tch, whatever." Oh, you were starting to see a pattern here. Maybe it wasn't just unnecessary narcissism, but more like... Trying to impress you?

"Are you training today too?" You asked, just testing the waters. "Of course I am! If I'm going to be the number 1 hero, I gotta train every fucking day."

You tapped your chin with your finger. "That's true. Although I've seen you train before and it looked pretty intense." And that was true. He was training so hard it made you shudder just thinking about it.

"Oh, you were watching me?" Oh, shit. You tried to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks. "Well I wasn't watching you specifically, but it was so... Extra so I may have looked your way once or twice." You tried to cover. But the smug grin on his face told you he didn't believe it a bit.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

"So, what do you think? Should I change this part? Oh and I thought it would be better if we did this too-" You stopped talking when you felt his eyes lingering on you, instead of the paper. "Bakugou?" You said smiling. "Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm not staring at you!" He shouted, your smile dropping almost instantly. "Why the fuck would I even stare at you?!" His hands were tight fists on the table, his red eyes reminding you of flames. Your eyes widened at his response and you forced a laugh.

"Well, ouch." You said with the same forceful laugh. "I- I wasn't implying anything, you know..." You mumbled.

"I- I..." This was the first time you have seen Bakugou in a loss of words. You shrugged. "Yeah, I know, you want to get this over with as soon as possible."

That was far from what he wanted to say but he accepted it nonetheless.

You both worked on it for hours, once again the time passed quickly, felt like it was a blink of an eye. "That was intense." You said while stretching a bit.

"Well, that was it. We finished the whole design and idea process and I'll take it from here."

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean by I'll take it from here?"

You shrugged. "I just have to actually do this now, so we don't really have to meet like this." Why did Bakugou feel that sting in his chest? For Gods sake, what the fuck was your quirk?

"Y/N." He said that made you stop stretching. Hearing your name from him made your heart beat faster. "What the hell is your quirk?"

"My quirk?" You asked, a little surprised at the sudden question.

"Yes!"

"Well it's not a big quirk. I can manipulate shadows." You shrugged. Your quirk had never came off as handy but it was fun to change the shapes of people's shadows and seeing their reactions.

Bakugou desperately tried to find a relation with your quirk and this weird sensation he felt every time you smiled but he couldn't find any.

"That's a dumb quirk." He said instead. You giggled, surprising him. "It is, but I don't really need a quirk to be special, I can work without it just fine."

His brow quirked up at your response. "If you say so."

***

Everyday for the next week, Bakugou had visited you in your workspace. "I want to see if you're doing a good fucking job." He said when you asked him why.

He stayed with you as long as he could, telling you about his day, about those damn extras in his class, with the exception of "Deku." He was talking about Deku like he wasn't even a part of the class. You knew he was talking about Izuku Midoriya, that green haired shy guy who broke a limb every time he used his quirk. Oh, Bakugou talked about him a lot, with great hatred too.

But even though he was just rambling, you loved to listen to him. And even though he never even implied it, you knew he liked watching you work too. It was probably because he was interested in how his costume was coming up but you still enjoyed it very much.

But the truth was that he had almost completely forgotten about his costume. He was coming to see you every day, every chance because you... You just understood him. But Bakugou was so foreign to these feelings, it made him feel scared and vulnerable.

You weren't aware of any of this, of the internal crisis he was having, so you were surprised when he suddenly stopped showing up.

You couldn't really work too, since your eyes were practically glued to the door, waiting to see a glimpse of the spiky blonde hair, but you never did.

The day you were done with the costume, you texted him. You tried to look as good as you could, cleaned the dust off of your face and your uniform, wore your best perfume only to see someone else who came instead of him to pick the costume up.

It was Kirishima, you had chatted with him before, he was a pretty cute guy, and you knew from your daily chats from Bakugou he liked him too. So just seeing him reminded you of Bakugou which made your mood even worse.

"Is... Is Bakugou okay?" You asked.

You saw the uncomfortable look on his face and you knew Bakugou was avoiding you. "He- he- he is okay... He's just-" You sighed but smiled nonetheless. "It's okay, I understand." His eyes widened. "You do?!"

You shrugged. "He's done with me, I see that. I had the same treatment from some other students too, although it's not very nice, is it? Still, say hi to him for me please."

"It's- it's not like that, he's just-" Kirishima looked a little embarrassed but mostly panicked and you couldn't help but giggle. "It's okay, I'm just happy I could help him."

When Kirishima went back to the dorms, only to find Bakugou on the couch looking at his phone, he was pissed.

"Dude you must be the dumbest person alive."

"Who the fuck are you calling dumb, shitty hair?!" Bakugou jumped from the couch, about to end Kirishima once and for all but Kirishima wasn't having it. "You! I'm calling you dumb! I took your costume from YN, the girl you have been avoiding like the plague, and I was embarrassed for you!"

Kirishima saw Bakugou stiffening as he mentioned your name and smiled knowingly. "Bakugou, if you don't go there and talk to her I will kick your ass."

"You can't kick my ass, idiot." Bakugou answered gruffly.

"Oh but I can. Go fucking talk to her dude! She asked about you, you know? What you're doing is so fucking unmanly." Kirishima gave Bakugou the costume he was holding and Bakugou could swear he could smell your scent on it.

"You call me unmanly one more fucking time and you won't have a tongue to call anyone unmanly. I am the definition of manly."

"Not with that attitude you're not."

"Who the fuck are you, my mother or something?" But Bakugou knew Kirishima was telling the truth, and he just couldn't get rid of this stupid feeling in his chest. Yet, he had thought that if he just stopped seeing you, he would never feel this way ever again. He was wrong. Oh, he had thought of you almost every second of the day, his heart feeling heavier with every second he didn't see you and it was more than he could bear.

He knew what he had to do, he just didn't have the courage before.

"I think- I have to go." He said practically running to the door. He passed the now entering Kaminari with such force and speed, Kaminari almost lost his balance. "Woah, where the fuck is he going?" He asked looking at the grinning Kirishima.

"You'll see." Was his answer.

***

You were about to leave the workshop, later than usual but you didn't really mind working a little longer, anything that would take your kind off of him, you accepted gratefully.

All of that until you heard his voice.

"YN!"

You jumped not expecting this at all. Your eyes widened when you saw the face you had longed to see for almost a week, and there he was, cheeks flushed like he had ran all the way here.

And you knew why he was here. You weren't stupid, the look in his eyes just gave it away. So a smile found its way on your lips, the sweetest smile he had ever seen that made him feel like he could die right than and there.

"Bakugou!" You said, walking towards him. "You're late."

#bnha scenarios #mha imagines #bakugou x reader #bnha x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #mha bakugou #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #katsukibakugou

407 notes · View notes

angelswithcigarettes · 3 years

Text

“To find a way to cope”

Summary: Morgan finds Spencer's notebooks filled with partly disturbing drawings and poems and learns once again how much of what Spencer feels he doesn't know how to express and how much happened in his childhood he never talks about.

AU: [This is an AU in which Morgan and Reid share a house (as friends). The parts can be read independently.]

Warnings: Past Sexual Abuse

Relevant Tags: Autistic Spencer Reid, Suicidal Thoughts

Word Count: 4626

First Chapter:

Notes: Since this series is the follow up serious to another one of mine "Green" (I will link it in the endnote) there can be some confusion if you haven't read it. But here is a short summary of it so you don't have to read it all and can still 'enjoy' this:

In the story "Green" Spencer gets together with Lola who abuses him following up this abuse he stays with Morgan who helps him recover as much as that is possible. Spencer doesn't want to go back to his apartment so Morgan decides that it is time for a change, they move in together in one of the houses Morgan renovated ones.

They each have their own privacy, their own floors including bathrooms and bedrooms and each of them has their own office but its not a secret to anyone that they also don't have much privacy because at some part after living together for so many years the embarrassment or shame for many things just faded.

However when Morgan picks up a box of books in the basement while looking for his old baseball equipment he feels bad when he looks inside of them.

They are notebooks, written in with black ink and he can tell that it's Spencer handwriting. There is a date on the corner, the note book is hardly a month old. He puts it away and grabs one from further down, revealing another date from eight years ago and he opens up a random page and starts reading.

"And if you look at me

Look at me for another moment

See me

If you really see me

Can you look at me the same again."

It's seems to be an attempt of poetry and Morgan opens another page finding a scetch of a person. Also in blank ink. Their hands scratching at their eyes, looking like they are screaming.

He reads another poem.

"Can you hear me screaming?

Did you hear me screaming for you? You hands burning my skin,you hands burning my innocence.

Can you hear me screaming?

In the latest night, can you hear me screaming?

Did you hear him burning my skin, his hands burning my innocence."

Morgan can feel an unsettling feeling spread through his body, these are too old to be from the time with Lola, judging by the date he must have been in his early twenties.

He looks into another notebook finding a lot of sketches and a few of them look similar to people Morgan had seen before, he figures they are unsubs and then he opens another scatch and it looks like a women, warning a gun holster and having a glass in her hand, her hair shoulder long and judging by the date this is Elle.

Morgan picks up another one, it is dated for approximately a year ago. The drawing shows their house but the windows are barricaded with wood and nails, only a light shining out of Morgan's room and a kitten is sitting in front of their doorstep, skinny and looking up to the doorbell handing in front of the door that is also barricaded.

The next one is a drawing from their kitchen and it shows Morgan, at least he thinks so, sitting at the table with his hand on his head the other around a coffee cup and on the kitchen counter are files stacked and the kitchen table is filled with overflowing cups.

There is a third, showing their bathroom and there is a liquid on the floor,again every drawing is held black ink but he guesses its blood and a handprint on the mirror and in front of the puddle and then there is a hand sticking out from behind the curtain from which the liquid drops down.

The fourth is what makes Morgan want take the notebook with him, it's a man standing in the door and by the tattoos he can make out that it is supposed to be him but he is wearing a mask and he is holding Spencer's stuff animal in his hand while wearing only Jean's and boots no shirt. Morgan can make out that this is supposed to be Spencer's room.

The worst he finds in that notebook is one of a women, sitting on a chair, her head leaned back and her arms sliced open, blood dripping down on the floor and by the necklace, the gun at her hip and the long slightly curly hair Morgan dares to assume that this is supposed to be JJ.

He puts the notebook aside and pulls out one from the time when he started at the BAU and the first drawing is of a little boy with glasses standing in the bullpen that is crowded with files. The second is a room filled with bees at the wall and an empty chair in the middle.

Morgan knew Spencer can draw he didn't know how well he does.

There are a few sketches of Morgan and Gideon and a lot of JJ. And many butterflies and with the ripped out pages in between he guessed that he draw them for her.

He quickly puts everything away when he hears Spencer walking down the stairs but goes back down to grab the one with the poem about the 'burning hands' the one with the sketch from Elle and the one with the drawings from the house and the women on the chair and for weeks he hides them in his office and eventually started profiling a few of them but quickly stopped that, feeling uncomfortable.

"What are you drawing?" He asks stepping into Spencer's office and the man shuts the notebook again.

"I don't draw."

"You don't?"

"No, I haven't in years."

"You haven't?"

"No, I am horrible at that." Morgan steps closer and it fits what he had found downstairs. The little pencil case open, only black pens inside and a pencil with a rubber. "What did you want?"

"Nothing just wanted to check in on you." Looking over he sees another stack of papers, and in a box next to his desk watercolours. "Its getting pretty stuffed in here."

"I like it. And I would like for you to leave now."

"I will." Apologetic Morgan takes his hands up and leaves the room.

There is a high chance that Spencer knows himself that his drawings are concerning and that that is the reason he is so defensive over people knowing he draws.

He keeps his findings a secret for a few more days until he gets to concerned and tries again talking to him about it but the moment he takes the word drawings in his mouth Spencer denies having drawn in the last years and accuses him of having sniffed around his office for things he draw as a teenager.

So he takes the notebooks and in a quiet moment walks up to Hotch's office who is similar concerned by them. For him the worst is one of Spencer himself, someone pressing a hand over his mouth and him into a pillow next to a poem about the lyrical I suffocating.

"There are more that hint at sexual abuse."

"He has a history we know that."

"Some are older than what happened with Lola."

"Did you try talking to him about these?"

"He claims he hasn't drawn in years." Hotch looks further through it finding more and more thinks he finds concerning.

"There are quite a lot of you."

"That's why I am here. I was hoping he maybe would rather talk to you about it. I can't explain why the drawings are portraying me like that." Hotch looks down on the page of a drawing of Morgan laying on the couch, the TV running but he is sleeping. On the table a ashtray with smoke coming from it on the floor next to the couch, multiple books that block his way and lianas hanging from the ceiling one close to curling itself completely around his neck.

"You have a theory?"

"My first guess was that something in the house made him feel captured, or even me but I am not sure."

"I would actually say that it's the opposite. That he feels like he captures you."

"Me?"

"This doesn't look like he is the one captured." He points at another painting showing Morgan standing in the kitchen, one half of his body having spiders all over it his other side being completely normal beside the fingers that in the end turn into bees and more bees flying away from it. "Are you okay?"

"You see this drawings and you ask if I am okay?"

"Besides that these drawing are definitely not something that leave you unaffected there are a few that a showing you in a vulnerable state he probably saw this before drawing it in his own interpretation."

"I am fine, I don't know why he draws me like that."

"Alright I will talk to him about it." Morgan initially wanted to go to JJ with this but she really doesn't need to see the drawings of herself being death by suicide. There is the one on the chair but also one hanging out of a tree with wings on her back.

For Hotch the most disturbing once are the two from a child, being beaten and in the other drawing having wings sitting on top of a clip, stars around them.

Morgan brings him the other notebooks too and in the earlier once its clear that he draws what he sees on cases and around himself. The poems not so much.

But the younger the note books the more it concerns his friends and random children.

Hotch doesn't find many of himself, but there is a notebook around the time Emily died that breaks his heart and when she came back the drawings change to something with more anger and eventually one that shows Spencer and him sitting in his office, Spencer looking at Hotch, Hotch doing the same but behind Hotch stands Emily or JJ he can't tell having a hand on his shoulder and covering his mouth while Spencer has a ghost behind him, covering his eyes.

He thinks long about if he wants to talk to him about the notebooks because Spencer seems to use this to cope and that is a good thing no matter how violent they look but on the other hand it seems like something is really bothering him so after weeks of debating he hands Morgan the box back saying that it feels wrong for him to interfere and Morgan first gets angry but then agrees that it is better if he first talks to him and then can offers Spencer to talk to Hotch if he rather wants that.

So eventually Morgan breaks the ice at a dinner picking up the box and placing it on the table. "You know what this is?"

"A box"

"You know what's in it?" He asks and Spencer nods with worry in his eyes. "I found it in the basement while cleaning it out."

"Did you-" Nervous he bites on the inside of his lip.

"I did"

"They are mine" He tells him, the fear clearly audible in his voice.

"I know, I am just a little bit worried about you, there is some pretty dark stuff in there."

"You weren't supposed to see."

"But I did and I just want to make sure that everything is alright."

"Yes they are just drawings."

"They are not just drawings."

"And poems."

"Not what I mean kid" Morgan grabs the notebook on top and sits down in front of him opening the page with the drawing of their house. "Is this our house?"

"Yes"

"Can you tell me why you draw this?" Spencer shrugs ones, tears in his eyes. "These are yours and I am not judging you or am mad I just think that some of these, because this notebook was finished a few weeks ago, need talking about. And I am just trying to help you."

"I don't know why I draw this."

"What about the cat? Is that Garfield?" Garfield is an old cat they adapted years ago and died.

"Yes"

"You still miss him?"

"Sometimes I wish he comes home again but then nothing is open here anymore."

"Garfield is dead and even if he wasn't dead when we got the call he would be by now." Morgan tells him in a gentle voice. "So this is about Garfield not coming back in,not you feeling captured in here?"

A nod.

"See that's why I think talking about this is good because I completely miss interpreted this."

"Did you see all of them?"

"Yes"

"All of them?"

"Yeah, I looked through them." He nods and then a tears rolls down his face. "Come on we go over to the couch for this, we cuddle up with your stuff lion and we talk about these, you can lean against me no need to look me in the eyes or for me to see your face." Morgan over the years found out that that is what makes him feel the most comfortable while talking. Either on car rides when Morgan can't tear his eyes from the road or while walking somewhere or placed so that Morgan isn't looking into his face.

Spencer ignores the offer to get his stuff animal from upstairs but he takes the thick blanket while Morgan pulls out the cautions from underneath making the couch bigger and then leans against him and Morgan opens the next page.

It's the drawing from Morgan in the kitchen, the files everywhere and the cups on the table. "What's with the Cubs?"

"I don't remember."

"Mr I have an eidetic memory that's very hard to believe."

"Sometimes everything gets dirty in our kitchen."

"And that bothers you?"

"I try cleaning it but it seems like it doesn't get better even when everything is properly stored."

"And the files?"

"It always happens when we have many cases after another and then it isn't fun coming home anymore."

"Because its dirty?"

"Because it's all tight" He tries to explain how the house feels to him. "We can't move in here."

"Is that the same thing you wanted to express with this?" Morgan asks opening the page of him laying on the couch with the lianas from the ceiling.

"Yes and- and that I- that I take your energy away."

"Okay one point after the other, what is it with the house being to tight? We have a lot of space and a lot of garden and everything, what makes it tight?"

"I don't know sometimes it just is." He tells him moving his head back on Morgan's arm shutting his eyes for a moment and then breathing in deeply.

"We don't have to do this all now if its to much for you" He tells him worried about how this affects Reid. "You just explain it the best way you think I will see about the rest."

"You won't get me."

"I do, it's tight in here sometimes, like you can't move."

"Yes"

"And cleaning doesn't help"

"Yes"

"See not that bad"

"It makes me feel bad." He continues and then hits his thigh ones. "Like I need to run."

"Like you need to run?"

"Yes. Like I have to move. Like my legs haven't moved enough."

"Because it's to tight in here?"

"Yes."

"What about you taking my energy away? What do you mean by that?" Spencer turns his head away not looking at the page but then eventually speaks.

"I am really not an easy friend."

"For me you are."

"No I am not."

"You are not taking my energy away."

"You could do a lot more thinks if it wasn't for me." Spencer justifies his statement.

"Like what?" But he just shakes his head still facing away from him and Morgan tries encouraging him to talk to Hotch but Spencer denies the offer so Morgan moves his hand down around his waist and pulls him closer again. "C'mon you did so good with the first drawings and we won't have to talk about this one any more we can just move on to another.”

Rest on Ao3 (I can’t post more words in here I’m sorry):

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #ao3 author #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #autistic spencer reid #jennifer jareau

23 notes · View notes

dumblydork · 3 years

Text

Wasn't expecting to be back as a writer so soon but I just absolutely CANNOT get enough of writing headcanons and AUs and JUST BEAR WITH ME OKAY

Also I feel like this is super long but it might not be idk

Some more Hinny, with a bit of Romione! So this one is set in the modern magical world. Hope you enjoy! And don't forget, if you have absolutely ANY Hinny headcanons you'd want to see written, please drop me a message or an ask anytime and I'll do my best to write one 3>

"This class just CANNOT get any worse." Ron muttered, drawing lazy lines with his pen on the History of Magic textbook they were reading.

"We literally live in 2020, do we really HAVE to study all this old age crap?" He continued, now shifting to drawing circles as the teacher droned on.

Harry for one, wasn't listening to the professor (though he did vaguely hear him mention 'Goblin War' but that was about it) and neither to Ron. Harry was busy staring out of the window onto the busy streets of London below their high classroom, thinking about a certain redhead.

A certain redhead who also happened his best friend's sister.

"Hi!" Hermione's voice came in an excited whisper as she started taking out her textbook, the dull grey of it made slightly happy with all the colourful muggle stickers (once affronted, she had told Harry that they were called 'Post Its' but Harry just could never bother with the name), full of notes and extra bits. Hermione was careful not to let the professor know that she was suddenly here, a thought which hit Harry when Ron exclaimed almost loudly before Hermione kicked his foot under the table to shut him up.

"I swear to Godric you weren't here literally a minute ago how- Harry?" Ron wondered, calling his best friend.

"Yes it's very odd Ron." Harry almost sighed, back to his brooding. Hermione was doing weird things always- it was nothing new.

"Please be like Harry and stop looking so surprised. Let me focus." Hermione sneered at Ron and whipped out her pencil, furiously noting down from the board whatever the professor had been droning on about for the past 45 minutes.

"And that, is all on the Goblin War of 1785 today. Make sure you finish your homework- remember, 4 pages on the magical strategies used by the two goblin sides to win the war. I need it handed in on Monday. Class dismissed." The professor walked out with his nose in the air, as if he had imparted the knowledge of a lifetime in one single lesson. He waved a lazy hand at the board which wiped off all the notes, releasing a few cries from the back where some kids were still making notes.

"Thank Godric that's over!" Ron could almost cry. Harry was back to paying attention, especially after Hermione slapped his hand. "Earth calling whatever planet Harry Potter is on!" She laughed. The three of them got up and walked out into the corridor.

"What lesson do we have next?" Harry asked absentmindedly.

"What's up with you today? You've been like this since we returned from the Burrow well over a week ago." Ron said thoughtfully, an arm slung carelessly around Hermione's shoulder, who was surprisingly okay with it.

Harry snapped back to reality. If Ron found out, it would be Harry's head and nothing else.

"And what about the two of you? Care to explain," Harry looked at the Ron's arm, "whatever this is? You two have been just finding ways for touching each other, don't think I haven't noticed." Harry finished with a whistle, knowing this was the nerve he had hit. He almost grinned to himself.

"That," Hermione shrug off the arm around her, blushing furiously, "is just two friends being friendly." She finished, but there was a considerable change in the pitch of her voice.

"Yes yes whatever." Harry flicked a lazy hand at the two, knowing fully well they had gotten up to something in the Burrow which was only between the two of them.

The trio had reached the cafeteria where they sat down on one of the empty benches, having half hour free before moving on to Harry's most despised class- Chemistry, or Potions as it was called in the older ages.

Harry let his thoughts move back to the Burrow (courtesy this couple who were now sitting with their sides practically touching). The Burrow was Ron's house, and the trio's favourite hangout. They were there for the summer break, which had ended a week ago, but the memories were still as old as yesterday.

"Oh please, I will kick your ass at Quidditch." Ginny, Ron's younger sister and the youngest Weasley piped, her fiery red hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Quidditch was the one thing Harry really enjoyed- it was rare to have Quidditch matches in school now with so much course load, so these summers were what he lived for.

Particularly this one summer where Ginny had turned up looking just gorgeous, something Harry had failed to notice in the 6 years he had known her. It wasn't as if she wasn't gorgeous before- it just struck him differently this time. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the fact that she could make Harry laugh almost always. She was not only gorgeous- Ginny had developed a sense of humour and sarcasm quite unlike her brothers- they were fond of practical jokes, whereas Ginny was more of the sharp tongued type who could make an entire room laugh without as much as waving a hand. And it was absolutely fabulous. Harry had found himself staring at her practically everyday of summer since he came to the Burrow three months ago.

The way she tied her hair up, or how she bit her lip when exasperated with her Math homework and the way her lips opened slowly first when she laughed. The slight, barely perceptible crook in her teeth and the generous sprinkling of freckles all across her face. It was all suddenly very endearing to Harry.

And hence, midway through his last week at the Burrow, Harry had come to the conclusion that he had started fancying Ginevra Weasley, his best friend Ronald Weasley's younger sister. Not to mention practically Hermione's best friend, despite being an year younger.

So that was why Harry was barely able to keep his impulses in check when he saw Ginny in her Quidditch outfit, wearing a red and gold jersey with cream coloured bottoms. But when he thought of how he could have his ears boxed in by Ron, he could very much focus back on the match and not on a heart-achingly stunning redhead.

"Language, Ginny. This girl," Ron's mom, Molly, muttered under her breath, currently putting up laundry by swishing her wand back and forth. All of the Weasley siblings were back home at the Burrow, except for Percy and Bill, who were both busy working.

"Sorry mom! As I was saying Harry, I will definitely kick your bottom in this match." Ginny corrected herself.

"Please, we shall see." Lately it was getting increasingly difficult for him to produce coherent responses in front of the woman he had come to consider as practically a sarcastic goddess. But he was proud of this response- he should continue thinking about Ron's punches.

"Okay, positions, and go!" Harry heard Arthur, Ron's father say and the match began in earnest. Hermione was sitting this one down with a novel, but at the moment was preparing a jug of lemonade the Muggle way.

Ron and Harry were one team, whereas Ginny, George and Fred were another. The game lasted for a good 40 minutes before Harry and Ron won the game by obtaining the 'snitch' (which was actually just an enchanted flying ball, kindly given to them by Arthur who had an obsession for all things Muggle).

"What happened to all that talk of kicking ass, huh?" Harry laughed, almost falling into one of the reclining chairs. Molly was handing out cool glasses of lemonade. "I think mine needs more ice." Harry said, sipping from his glass.

"Oh I totally forgot the ice! My wand is in the kitchen though." She said sheepishly, not wanting to give up her spot on the recliner. Or rather not wanting to get up from her spot next to Ron, who had decided to perch himself on Hermione's recliner despite there being an extra empty one.

"That's okay, I'll get some myself." He grinned. "I'll come too- I need to change out of this." Ginny added. They walked back inside the Burrow which was empty, with the entire family outside in the garden.

Harry waved his wand which was lying on the kitchen counter into a bowl and ice appeared, shining in the sunlight but not melting. Magic.

He added a few to his glass and leaned on the counter, sipping lazily on the drink. It was good to be away from the noise for a minute. Ginny reappeared downstairs, having changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and unholy thoughts came rushing back into Harry's brain.

"I'll get some ice too, now that I'm here." Ginny took out an empty glass and filled it with ice, presumably wanting to fill it with lemonade later. But the way she took the ice gave Harry goosebumps- she leant across him instead of asking him to move and picked a few pieces of ice from behind him. Harry was frozen in his place- Ginny made no move whatsoever to stand behind. She stood inches away from Harry, just a few centimetres shorter than him.

"Oh for goodness sakes Harry, kiss me already." She rolled her eyes but the tip of her ears went red.

"What?" Harry spluttered- it was something he had been wanting to do since the start of summer but putting it into words stunned him of sorts. Was he THAT readable?

"Don't think I haven't seen the way you've looked at me all summer, Harry. It's not that difficult to know that you fancy me. A lot. And just so you know, I do too. A lot. Have done so since Ron introduced us.* She whispered, but stepped back after her confession.

Harry was still stunned, but could anyway notice the distance she had put, now slightly unsure after her brazenness. She still stared at him, her lips shaped into an imperceptible 'O', begging to be kissed. So that's what Harry did- he pulled Ginny back towards him by her waist and placed his lips on hers, almost tasting sunlight but with cherry swirled in it. His hands remained at her waist but Ginny moved hers to lock around Harry's neck, slowly playing with the curls at his nape. She smiled into the kiss, parting her lips were slightly, just so Harry could taste her; it was sinful but decadent. Very much like a good bar of chocolate. More than good. An absolutely unbelievable bar of chocolate.

When they finally pulled back after what could have been a lifetime, or an eternity, or a few seconds, Ginny grinned at Harry. "Do you not have anything to say?" She stood there's suddenly a bit shy, with her arms still around Harry's neck.

"You said all of it for me. I do fancy you- maybe way too much." He said, feeling as if Ginny's brazen confidence was transferred into his veins.

"That's a relief, because I might or might not have been looking to get you to kiss me." She said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You what?" Harry stared at her incredulously, before breaking out into a wide smile.

"Don't worry, the bit about me fancying you is real. Have done so since I was 10." She added seriously.

"So are we a thing now?" Harry raised an eyebrow, quite enjoying the small circles he was making on Ginny's side.

"Keep dreaming on, Potter." She removed her hands from around his neck and disappeared like she had reappeared after changing, what felt like ages ago. Harry smiled to himself before walking outside again, his lemonade glass forgotten.

---

"Really Harry, one would think you're in love the way you're zoned out." Ron stared at him, as Harry snapped back into the real world.

"Huh? Oh yeah." He agreed absent mindedly, still reeling a bit from that summer afternoon.

"You're in love?" Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised as she looked up from what looked like homework.

"Forget me, but you do seem to be." Harry glanced at her notebook, which had R+H scribbled messily on the margins. He grinned as Hermione and Ron blushed furiously.

"Okay fine, me and Ron might have kissed at the Burrow." Hermione said, snapping her book shut as Ron stared at her longingly.

"How interesting, because me and Harry did something similar." Ginny suddenly appeared from behind and sat beside Harry, pressing her lips to his cheek.

The two boys stared back and forth. Ron's eyes widened but returned to their normal size, as Ron slung an arm around Hermione again, except this time she actually leaned into him.

"What? Is happening?" Harry looked around, first at the couple in front of him and then at Ginny. This was all extremely confusing.

"Did you think you were the only observant human to ever exist? Hermione Granger is my girlfriend, Harry. Nothing escapes her. Not when one of her best friends kisses another one of her best friends." Ron laughed.

"Wait so you're not mad?" Harry was still shaken. Was his worrying all a waste? If he'd known, he could have spent more time with Ginny, locked behind doors, his lips on hers-

"Why would I be? I'd rather Ginny end up with you rather than some other git from school." Ron's voice cut into his thoughts breezily.

"Oh. Okay." Harry settled before smiling at Ginny and weaving his hand through hers.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry's eyes widened.

"Wait. Hermione Granger is your girlfriend?!" The typical Potter late realisation. The three people around him laughed heartily before Harry joined in, shooting Ginny an endearing look, making the tips of her ears turn red.

#hinny au #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry potter headcanon #harry x ginny #hinny headcanon #hinny #headcanon #school #romione #ron x hermione

38 notes · View notes

strangetalesnovels · 3 years

Text

It was a delightful spring, and the rays of soft, almost translucent light of the sun threading through trees hit the bird bath in front of me, making a cloud of light around it. The doves preened and sang at the edge of the ceramic, gracefully washing themselves in the petal-filled water.

Poems and a pen in hand, I drew the scene; though not very good at it, I was happy, and at peace.

The orphanage was not at all cruel like how they say they were. Mrs. Baillairgé was one of the kindest women I've met, acting as a sort of parental figure to both me and my sister's growing years. She fed us, clothe us, and gave us ample education, and even made Augé develop a habit in reading--Something that I didn't expect from a rowdy girl such as her.

And Augé, oh, how proud I was of her. She grew up to be a beautiful, smart, and eloquent lady. Her disposition was always so happy, her smile was very saccharine. I was quite lucky to have her as my sister; so witty and supportive of all my works.

And so far, it's been heaven, really. There hasn't been a single day that I truly was thankful for everything around me. I was glad my sister was with me throughout all of this; Without her, I wasn't sure that I was able to survive through the grief.

But admittedly, there has been times where the air surrounding us two were...tense. There were times we didn't agree and became distant, and it was all because of the same thing: Money. Sooner or later, Mrs. Baillairgé will have to let us go and have a life of our own, but I still haven't gotten into a medical school to learn to be a doctor as I promised. I lamented these problems to Augé, who offered I do other jobs instead-and to that I disagreed on her. It was quite a fight, that October evening.

"So...er, How was your classes so far, Augé?" I asked, a sort of conversation starter as you will. I wasn't really paying attention to her but the silence bothered me so much, I had to break it. At this point, I have to admit; I was too busy downing the ribeye steak in front of me that I didn't quite care about what her response would be, until she responded.

"It was, fine, brother." But it wasn't fine, wasn't it , Augé? She responded in an empty and lackluster tone, a tone that caused me to look up from my plate with concern. "...Fine? Well, from how you answered, it doesn't seem like it. What happened?"

I could see her bite her lip and tighten her grip on the table cloth, her shadowed eyes doing it's best to avoid mine. "It's just...you weren't at the school today. I was waiting for you by the medical hall, but you weren't there. I even asked around and they said you were never there-" "Augé, It's fine, I just missed the class, that's all-" "But you didn't even enroll, Alastair!"

"Just give me some time, okay! It's not that easy to just waltz in there and suddenly, I'm a doctor- I need to be prepared-"

"What more is there to be prepared for? Tell me!"

"Don't you support me?"

"Of course I do, Brother, of course I do, but how can I support you if every time I thought you'd be in that school and learning to be a doctor, you're here slacking off and drawing fucking doves taking a bath!" She takes my journal and slams it down on the pearlescent floor. I stared at it as one of the pages slipped out, and carefully picked the book back up.

"Augé. It takes, time, okay?" I try to convince her. I think. But it only ended up as me trying to convince myself.

"Are you afraid, Alastair?" Yes, I was. "Is there something that's bothering you--hindering you from going to the classes?" Yes, there is. "What are you so afraid of, brother!?"

My throat tightened as I stared down the plate. I felt something weighing me down-My hands...they were stiff and cold. I want to tell her why, I want to tell her that I was afraid because I don't want her to be disappointed if I fail. I promised her this, I promised to be strong for her, and if I can't keep it...well, worse comes to worse and she'll leave, and never trust me again.

"N...Nothing. Look, first thing in the morning, I'll sign up, okay?" I put my hand on hers, and she gave out a tired sigh, pulling her hand away and stood up from her chair.

"Goodnight." She replied with a final tone.

I'm sorry.

The next morning, I decided to set things right. Today was the day, I pull myself up, get ready, and become a doctor.

This was the moment, the true joy of determination coursed through my veins like it was variolating (Don't look this up!) Smallpox into it, I was estatic! So, I packed up my books, I held my head up high, puffed my chest outwards, and jaunted my way to...

the library.

Yes, well, I still wasn't ready. The moment I left the house, I was so sweaty and jittery, so I made a stop at the library. Where I'll stay forever. Until I die. Of Shame. And bathe in my sweat. I am sopping, and dead. Like a mop.

And so there I was, moping , and wasted my time away with more biology books. As much as I loved reading them, I just cannot focus. All that was in my mind was how much I was wasting time, worrying that I was wasting time, and you have no idea what kind of relief hit my head when,

"You've been...er, reading that page for 5 hours now. Really that interested in the epidermis?" A soft voice asked from behind me, and as I whipped my sorrowful head towards the source, and it was what you would expect from someone with such a voice.

He looked...like a better version than me. Without the tired eyes and worried stare, this walking solaris sat down beside me, setting down his book about animal biology.

"Are you going to medical school?" He asks, pointing at my towering stacks of medical literature. "Erm. Not really-Well-I will be! Soon...enough." I sniggered.

"Well, if you are, I'll be excited to meet you! Where is it? Saint Louis?" Why is he so eager to see me? "Yes, yes, exactly. Ah, why...exactly are you excited to meet me?"

"Oh, Well, I was hoping I'd have someone to expect in my classes, you know, like a friend? I come from Paris, my name is Voun, by the way." He offers a hand to shake, as well as a warm smile.

I could only return a cold shake and a crooked grin. "Alastair Menetríes." A friend, huh? Well, they wouldn't hurt, right?

My relationship with Voun was...good, to be honest. I still haven't been in classes with him, but I do meet and study with him in the library. We were great friends. He even taught me papier maché..

"And there you go," His eyes squint as he applied the last of the strips of paper on the figure shaped like a cat. "There! We did it!"

I laughed. "More like you did. All I ever did was spill the glue all over the place."

He pats my back. "Yes, but what a good memory, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sharing some laughs, studying. Especially when we mess up."

"You mean I." He chuckled at my self deprecation.

"Especially you. Ah- I have to go, my friend. I have to do some more training for the operation."

"Operation?" I blinked. What does he mean by that?

"Ah, they're paying me to operate in the theatre, for a good price too, but I'm not about the money, really.." He starts to tidy his books and papers.

"Ah, how much are they paying you? Must be alot for a serious surgery."

"Just 56,000 franc, but like I said, I'm not in it for the money, I just think it's a good practice! Do you promise you'll be there? I'm quite nervous, Alastair."

"Oh! Of course! I'll be cheering silently. You go, Voun!" I waved as he left the library with a smile, and my gaze shifted back to the papier maché cat on the table that he left for me.

I need that money.

My pen taps against the desk as I try and figure out what words to put on the paper.

Dearest Augé, I will be-

No.

Dear Augé, This coming week, I will be operating-

No.

Dear Augé, I have a big surprise waiting for you at the theatre next week. I fufilled my promise to you, and you will be proud.

Love, Your Brother.

No. Scrap that. I groaned against the wood grains of the desk, my hands ran through under my wig and through my hair. What do I even tell her? That suddenly I was just a doctor? She'll be suspicous, she'd notice right away, that sleuth.

When the door creaked open, I jolted and looked back, to see the concern etched on the face of my sister as she peeked inside. "Alastair? What are you doing...? I haven't seen you in awhile."

My head raised at the question. "Ah...I was in school, actually." Her face brightened at my false words. I loved seeing her smile, but this was difficult, lying to her face, hiding it from her. My words tasted like rust in my mouth.

"T-that's great! Oh thank the heavens, where is it?"

"Saint Louis.."

"Oh! It's not too far from mine! Can I visit you for lu-"

"NO!"

She flinched at my protest, and looked at me with confused bewilderment.

"Look, it's been a stressful week, Augé. I have alot of work to do, and so much to study, I don't want to be disturbed right now. Please?"

"Ah, well...I understand." She picks herself back up with a smile. "But if you need anything-"

"I'll call the maids, you go rest Augé."

"Okay. Alright, goodnight brother." The maiden pulled her head out of the door and gently closed it.

I nodded back at her and went back to the note. Perhaps it's not too late to ask Voun if I could still try a little bit, maybe even accompany him in the operation. Maybe we can even split the money. He's my trusted friend now, surely he trusts me too, to handle the tools, to know what to do.

"Absolutely not." Voun pulled up the gloves on his hand and arranged the tools on the table.

"W-why? I am capable enough, Voun, Even if I'll just help,"

He gave a tired sigh and looked back at me with furrowed brows. "Listen, Alastair, I can't just let you in on this. This is high stakes,"

"And that means I can't handle it?"

"No,"

"Then let me help at least!"

"We already have enough people, and, just use your brain Alastair, you aren't a student of the sciences yet,"

"That does not matter to my capabilities- Look, Voun, I need the money. You said that you didn't care for it much, then just halve it with me!"

He stops before he could place the scalpel on the table. And when he does, he does it very slowly, and leaned against the table. "Would you have approached me of this offer a day ago, I would've just let you go to the Operation and take the money. But now, I need it. My siblings were all hit with the plague back in Paris, and i need this money to help them with medicine. Surely you understand this pain, right?"

My stomach tightened with guilt. "I...I'm sorry."

He sighed. "It's not your problem, do not feel sorry. Just, go to school and maybe you'll be the one standing in my position soon, okay? I wish you the best of luck."

"Good...Good luck too."

And he leaves the room to make more preparations. I sat down on a chair to reflect on my choices, which...were quite simple. But for some reason, it was so difficult to choose.

#alastair menetríes #artists on tumblr #the strange tales of the doctor #chapter 2 #ch2

4 notes · View notes

xxisxxisxxis · 3 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-Four [PT.1]

Words: 3.1k

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of substance abuse

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @edwardtriggerhandzz @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @emariehorror @divaanya @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @abaldboi @liith-ium @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @meetthesixxter @arianareirg @gingerspicetalks

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @sixxseconds2love @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @allyouneedislove-mp3 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @viinceneil

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

NIKKI

"My wife doesn't tell me she's having an important surgery done, no, no, she just tells her girl friend Sharise who tells Vinnie and I'm the last one to fucking know about it." I tell Amber.

"I didn't wanna stress him out." Vivian insists, raising her brows.

"No, you just don't wanna keep me in the know just to piss me off." I argue.

"Nikki, go to hell." She tells me.

"You're not talking to him like that in here," Amber scolds her. "Just like he's not talking to you like that. We aren't doing that anymore. That was the issue last week. I didn't stop you two from talking trashy to each other and it got you where you are right now." She states. "Vivian, why didn't you tell Nikki about your procedure?"

"I didn't even tell the father of my kid I was having it done--I'm just a private person." She tells her.

"Duff doesn't even know?"

"No, he doesn't, and he's not going to." She looks at me.

Note to self: call Duff when she leaves.

"Why haven't you him?" Amber asks her next.

"Because I was freaking out over it enough as it was. I didn't need more people freaking out over it." She says. "So I just told Sharise because she was the one driving me home from it."

Amber just raises her brows and thinks for a second, her lips pursed.

"You see what I have to deal with?" I ask as I motion to Viv.

"Nikki, please." Vivian rolls her eyes.

"And she wonders why I won't fuck her. She doesn't deserve it at the moment." I add.

"Your dick isn't made of gold, Nikki, it's some trophy I should have to earn--especially when you clearly have no qualms tossing it around like a hot potato from one pussy to the next."

"That's not how you were acting last week." I argue. "

"But you won't fuck me because I'm not Vanity." She says back.

"I won't fuck you because the thought of screwing a pregnant chick makes my skin crawl." I admit.

"You'll go down on me while I'm on the rag but me being eleven weeks pregnant--barely showing--is where you draw the line?"

"Right, sorry, 'I won't fuck you because the thought of screwing a pregnant chick makes my skin crawl when she's pregnant with a baby she cheated on me to conceive,' there, that's better." I correct myself.

"At least I know the lovechild I have, exists. Do I even wanna think about the girls you've probably knocked up across the globe the last several years?" She accuses me.

"Unlike you, dear, I know how to fucking use condoms." I cut back at her.

"Gee, can't imagine where I learned to hate condoms in the first place." She sarcastically adds.

"Fuck if I know, you were telling me to take the damn thing off the first time we even had sex, little miss, 'I'm a virgin', 'this is my first time,' which looking back now is so obviously bullshit." I scoff.

"I was until you fucking corrupted me."

"My apologies, I didn't realize I was creating a cum monster whose main ambition was to procreate."

"And I didn't realize I was creating a codependent junkie." She doesn't hesitate to throw back at me and we're both silent just enough for Amber to cut in.

"I am going to give you two homework." She says, sighing, glancing at the clock.

We're out of time.

"I want you two to write each other a letter, one that doesn't involve putting one another down, and I want you to pick a time--any experience or memory with on another--that you consider the happiest you've been with each other, and I want you to mail them to each other, and next visit you'll read each other's letters back to one another to remind that person what they wrote. Sound easy?"

We just look at each other, not saying a word.

I didn't want to waste my time writing something for her that she'd just rip up without reading, and I knew she would, and I could see she didn't want to do that, either.

I'm great at song writing...but love letters?

I think back to the last love letter I wrote for Viv...the one in the back of her Bible I gave to her.

It kind of hurts that one of the last physical confessions of love I gave to her was practically a suicide note.

I close my eyes and groan, rubbing my forehead.

Fuck.

I try to think back to my happiest time with her over the last years.

Like flicking through the index of my mind--as best as I can, at least…

I let out a heavy sigh as I flip from channel to channel, chewing my gum, getting frustrated when I can't find anything interesting to watch.

"Are you gonna find a channel and stick to it or are you gonna keep flipping through the same channels and expect programming to change in a matter of seconds?" Vivian asks in a borderline snap, getting aggravated with me.

I just roll my jaw and turn the T.V. off, tossing the remote onto the coffee table.

"I didn't say turn it off, Nikki, you can watch T.V., just pick a channel and stick to it." She sighs, her Bible still in hand, the pad she's using to take notes in, in her lap.

"No. You just read your shit in peace and quiet. Sorry for the interruption." I reply, passively.

"Nikki, turn the T.V. back on and watch it."

"I'm good." I state.

"Ugh, you are such a whiney baby." She mumbles and I raise my brows, looking at her.

"I'm a what?" I ask, and she looks at me.

"A whiney baby."

"A whiney baby?"

"Yeah." She says it surely.

I'm grabbing her socked foot that's in my lap, making her squeal, her Bible and notepad falling in the floor when she kicks at me as I start tickling her foot.

"Nikki, stop!" She laughs out, sitting up and trying to fight me off of her.

"No, I'm a whiney baby remember?" I remind her, letting her foot go, getting on top of her, my hands moving to her waist, making her laugh again, trying to push me off of her.

I lean down and kiss her exposed neck, and stop tickling her, instead wrapping my arm under her, pulling her against me, settling between her legs.

She sighs and kisses me when I lean down to her.

Once we pull away for air, I run my thumb over her lip and she blinks up at me, slowly.

I can tell she's thinking, "what the hell is this? What are we doing? We aren't dating, we're not just friends, though, so what are we, Sixx?"

I don't know, either.

I'd tell her that but I don't want to freak her out or something.

I like her, a lot...more than a lot…

"What is it?" She asks me, and I realize I've just been staring at her.

"I, uh...I'm not really seeing anyone else anymore, you know?" I say, hoping she gets the hint, and she raises her brows a little.

"Oh." She replies.

"Not that it's a big deal or anything." I add.

"I wasn't thinking it was." She shakes her head a little...but I can practically see her doing little mental cartwheels and screaming out with joy.

I just smile at her, kissing her again.

I wrinkle my nose at the memory, not quite sure if that's when I was at my happiest with her.

I just decide to keep digging through more of my memory--what's left of it, that is--until I'm grabbing my pen, and writing away at the paper.

"Shhh, shh, you're gonna wake her up!" Vivian whisper yells at me as she holds a sleeping Skylar, the little baby wrapped up in a thick blanket, pacifier in mouth, knocked out cold.

"It's nearly 5:00a.m., what the hell are you doing up?" I ask her, trying to talk straight after a night of booze and blow.

"She hasn't slept since midnight. I've been trying everything but she just dozes for a few minutes and then wakes back up and whines." She explains.

She looks tired...exhausted, really.

"You want me to hold her and you go to bed?"

"She doesn't like you, the second she gets the feelings you're holding her, she'll wake you screaming." She reminds me.

"She likes me." I argue.

"Nikki, she purposely pees on you anytime you change her diaper, she gets antsy when you hold her--not to mention the amount of times you weren't paying attention and put her clothes on backwards or inside out and she pitches a fit."

"Hey, trying to dress a squirmy kid is military-grade patience training. If you try to perfect whatever it is she's wearing, she gets irritated and just wants down and starts moving around more and making it more difficult to get some clothes on her." She just chuckles a little and gets quiet in the light of the little reading lamp, her eyes closing slowly.

"Viv,"

"Hmm?"

"Go put the baby in the little crib thing Sharise brought over and go lay down." I tell her, quietly.

"I'm fine where I'm at." She insists, but I know she's not.

I take the chance and gently pick Skylar up, causing Vivian to say, "Nikki, don't wake her up," and I carefully make sure not to wake her as I carry her to the guest bedroom and put her in her playpen on her back like Sharise drilled into mine and Viv's heads to be sure of.

She doesn't wake up, and when I get back to the living room, Vivian's asleep in her chair, cuddled under the blanket she had Skylar under.

"Alright," I nudge her awake and she hums, furrowing her brows. "C'mon," I say to her, and she reaches her hands out. "What is it?" I ask her.

"Can you carry me?" She asks and I sigh out.

"Yeah, baby," I don't tell her, 'no,' despite not knowing whether or not we'll get to the bedroom because I'm tired and I know she obviously is, too, and she's not light as a feather--which will just make me more tired by the time I head to the bedroom.

I scoop her up and make it to the bed, only nearly dropping her once due to losing my footing--which that's not her fault. That's just the evidence of my night out.

When I lay her on the bed and pull my clothes off, crawling in beside her, she's snuggling up to me under the covers.

"You smell good." She mumbles to me.

"I don't know how. I smell like cologne, sweat, and booze." I mumble back, my eyes closed.

"You smell good." She repeats it.

"You do, too." I reply.

"I showered. You should try it some time." She says.

"Okay, Sixx, don't make me whoop your ass at five in the morning." I tell her, keeping my eyes closed, and she giggles, pressing her lips to my cheek, and my jaw, her nails trailing down my chest to my abdomen, deliberately running over the trail of hair leading down to my…

"It's five in the morning." I groan out, biting back a moan when her hand wraps around me, another kiss being pressed to my cheek.

"We can be done in a couple minutes." She tells me.

"I thought you were tired." I reply, trying to wake myself back up being that a certain part of me is up and alert. I rake my hands down my face as she straddles me, before looking up at her. "You're like those spiders that wait for the males to be vulnerable then they fuck 'em and kill 'em." I add, despite my hands running up her thighs to her waist…

"You always complain about early morning sex but then by seven o'clock you're the one not letting me tap out." She reminds me.

I just grab her hips and push her off of me before getting on her, making her laugh before my mouth catches hers, my teeth bitting at her lip before my tongue smoothes over it, making her moan softly.

By the time we're finished and satisfied, I'm getting off of her with deep breaths, the both of us gasping for air, covered in sweat--even our hair.

We don't hear Skylar down the hall which is a good sign that she's still asleep.

It's weird having a baby in the house. I know it's temporary, until Vince and Sharise get back from their little Florida getaway, but it's odd taking care of someone else aside from Vivian.

I wonder what it would be like if Viv would've actually been pregnant when we got married like she thought she was.

We'd have a two year old by now.

How fucking bizarre would that be raising a kid in this life at the moment.

Sure, Vince is doing it, but that's because Sharise is solid as a fucking rock.

I'd take a bullet for Vivian--fucking die for her--but she's not solid like that, not right now, at least. She used to be.

I mean she's still sober as shit but sobriety doesn't help much when you're wired even though you don't have a drop of anything in your system.

Look at me, like I'm one to be talking about dependability.

I look over at her, she's passed out, damp red hair across her pillow, covers pulled over her shoulder…

I reach over and run my fingertips across her cheek, the palm of my hand moving up to smooth over her hair as rays of sun start to filter through the small parting in the blackout curtains.

I'd love to have a kid in a couple years--maybe even within the next year--it just depends on the band, whether we're where we need to be by then or not...whether me and Viv are where we need to be or not, too.

Which as of right now, we're great.

We're more than great.

We haven't argued in two weeks.

Two fucking weeks.

Who the hell goes that long without arguing? Certainly not us, but here we are.

We weren't fighting as much because we were having sex like bunnies. I'm talking at least twice a day--Twice. A. Day. For two and a half weeks.

Looking back, I know it's because she was in the wake of a miscarriage, I was in the wake of Vince and Razzle's tragedy, we were both craving a quick fix and I guess sex is how we were illusioned into believing we were healing.

In reality we obviously weren't solving anything, just brushing it under the rug, but it was honestly the happiest I had been with her for our marriage.

It was peaceful. We weren't at each other's throats. We weren't at war. We looked forward to seeing each other and spending time with each other, and it was the closest we got to being how we were when we were just dating...so that, for me at that time, was the happiest I remember us being.

The next day I'm taking my enveloped and stamped letter down to the mailbox in the hall near the recreation room, passing by Amber on my way, seeing her nod at me in acknowledgment before I'm halting myself and coming back to see her.

"Hey, Doc, I need a word." I tell her.

"Can it wait, Mr. Sixx, I'm running late for a meeting?"

"I wanna know why having sex with my wife is a bad thing?" I ask, and she stops and looks at me.

"It's not. Nobody said it was." She tells me.

"You told me it might jeopardize our progress if we move too fast."

"Because it very well could. You both have co-dependence intertwined in your sex lives." She explains.

"Well, I don't know if you've been paying attention to the last couple sessions but my wife has needs right now. And not having sex with her right now is jeopardizing our progress because she thinks something's wrong with her."

"But you've told me, and her, you don't desire her because she's currently carrying another man's child."

"I've been thinking about it and I told her I'd work this out with her and how I've acted towards her is kinda contradictory to that." I admit. "And I can't go home and screw her into next week because you've got me paranoid about messing things up, now."

"Have you told her my opinion on sex in your relationship as of now?"

"No."

"Well, then, tell her about it and I'll take the blame for it."

"I don't want you to take the blame for anything, I want you to 'ok' me banging my wife."

"If you want to, 'bang,' your wife, then you can do that. There's not a law in the universe barring you from getting intimate with her."

"Sure as shit feels like it." I argue.

"Tell you what, you talk to her about it--tell her my opinion--and we'll touch on it in the next session." She suggests.

"Pun intended?" I ask and she furrows her brows, looking unamused.

"...Okay, nevermind." I mumble.

"I'll see you Friday for your session with the boys, have a good day." She tells me, giving me a nod before walking away.

I just shake my head a little, irritated, and drop my letter in the mail box, heading to the payphone to try to call Vivian.

"Hello?" She answers on the second ring and I clear my throat.

"H-Hey, it's me," I say, and she's quiet for a moment.

"Hey," she finally answers and I let out a breath of relief.

"Do you wanna visit tomorrow? I need to talk to you about something." I tell her.

"Is this where you tell me you're filing for a divorce afterall?" She asks and I rub my lips together.

"No, Viv, it's not. It's about our sex thing." I struggle trying to define it.

"Can we even have a sex thing if we aren't even having sex?"

"Ha. Ha. Smartass." I state. "Seriously, you wanna come?"

"More than you know." She replies and I can't help but laugh.

"Pun not intended." She adds. "I'll be there around nine o'clock, if that's okay? I have another appointment to check on the baby since the surgery and then I'm gonna try to go shopping for some decently healthy things because I'm gaining too much weight at the moment."

"You're pregnant--that's your excuse to eat whatever the fuck you want, when you want it, isn't? Like a chick liberation thing or something."

"I'm eating too much junk, I don't want to pop out a fifteen pound baby. My pussy will rip to my ass." She says and I get a horrifying image. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Nikki, I gotta go."

"Alright, see you then. Bye, baby."

"Bye." She replies softly before hanging up.

I pick at the inside of my lip with my teeth, another thought coming to mind...and my eyes shift to my pinky ring on my right hand...the same one I'd proposed to Vivian with back in '83.

#gateway drug #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction

27 notes · View notes

buck-nialled · 4 years

Text

Empty Pages - R. Mendes (3)

NOTE: well if you saw my last post then you know how this chapter is going to end but if you haven't, well, get ready *cue evil laughter* also let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list by messaging or replying to this post, thanks!

PROLOGUE // PART ONE // PART TWO

Raul was not expecting to put that much effort into the drawing, really. Half of the hard work was already done, thanks to Lily and Mrs. Basel discussing most of what the work’s finer elements were right in earshot of him. The boy thought by the time he was finished sketching out the rough design in number two pencil, going as far as to outline it in black pen exhibited enough effort. But he knew it was lacking in its message and persuasion. The anger only the red colored pencil glaring at him from the unopened box buried beneath the healing pile of past schoolwork on his desk could portray to his audience. His fingers twitched and finally, his body caved and leaped up from his bed and to his desk where he reached for the box of perfectly sharpened, untouched pencils.

He was tentative with his color choice, and even more cautious when blending the different shades and allowing movement across the piece. No weights nor frivolous purchases of ripped jeans and leather jackets would come to be quite as cathartic as scrubbing the colored lead furiously back and forth across the paper. A full two hours had passed when Raul finally conceded to his completed drawing and set the dull pencil down. His hands were cramping, and various splotches of blended wax tainted his palms and knuckles like bruises, but he felt okay with it, strangely.

“Hey, Raul do you—” Shawn’s voice made his brother’s head snap up from the drawing to look at him. “Woah, dude…that looks great.” Shawn slowly approached his brother’s work with caution, afraid to lift even a finger in fear of Raul reaching out to snap it. “And I thought you were going to cheat off of me or Pete.” He chuckles, eyes continuing to study the slogan and illustration encompassing the destruction of routine and tradition. “You came up with this yourself?”

Raul bit his lip, now becoming irritated with Shawn’s wandering eyes. “Did you need something?” The older asks, rising up from his bed so his frame could shield the paper. Shawn’s eyes grew wide and he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I was just gonna ask if you still had that drawing stuff. You know, the stuff that mom gave you that one—” Shawn’s ask was interrupted with a sharp “oof” when Raul shoved the box of pencils against his chest.

“Anything else you need?” He quirks a brow to his brother. Shawn sets his lips into a firm line and shakes his head, before sending Raul a quick ‘thanks’ and retreating back into his own bedroom. When his bedroom door is shut once again, Raul heaves a sigh and lets his tired hands into the river of curls say on his head. The heap of gel he applied to his hair this morning made the dark locks a little less smooth than what he had imagined. Turning back to face the paper with a sigh, Shawn’s unanswered question continued ringing in his ears until he slid the paper into his folder and the folder into his backpack.

“It’s just a project. Just a project…” Raul repeated this mantra to himself that night until he fell asleep.

The following morning, Lily waltzed up to her teacher’s desk with the best smile her fatigued state could muster, propaganda in hand ready to hand in.

“Here you are, Mrs. K.”

“Oh, no sweetie. You’re going to be presenting them.” Her eyes flicked away from the digital attendance sheet on her computer screen and to the young woman. Lily notes that her eyes never even glanced over her work, meaning other students must have had the same idea of turning it in.

“Oh…everybody?” Her smile begins faltering. The teacher hums and sends a small nod, cueing Lily to walk to her desk with crushed expectations. As she sank down into the chair, the sight of a brooding form drenched in black caught her site. She tilted her head to the right, spotting Raul Mendes early and eager in his chair. Had Raul not been adorned in the shirt with burn holes near his collarbone and eight years younger, there was no doubt Lily would be on the edge of her seat beside him, drumming against the wooden desks with their no. 2 pencils in anticipation.

But Lily would say she overall felt a riveting urge in her stomach to make a beeline toward the school clinic and bluff her anxiety with a stomachache. Mrs. K completed attendance as the girl continued to gnaw on her lip.

“Alright, let’s begin!” The instructor announces, reading down the line of various names. Finally, she reached ‘M’ and beckoned Raul up to stand before the rows of desks and share his work. Normally, Raul would prefer his brothers (mostly Peter) to be in the same class as him, in order for time to be stalled even longer for any assignments the oldest might have missed the night previous. Raul, however, lacked a single complaint in his mind as he let his black sneakers steer him to stand in front of his English class with a tantalizing smirk.

“I title this piece: Breaking Tradition.” Silence followed the boy’s introduction due to the overwhelming surprise his peers felt that Raul not only completed his project within the given time limit but did so marvelously. Some lips parted in appalment--Mrs. K’s included—while others gasped. The initial silence was not long-lasting, however, and the proof lied in arbitrary whisper’s floating around the cinderblock building, all discussing Raul’s piece.

But one voice remained silent through the tirade of talk. Her jaw was too busy clenching furiously. Her teeth were grinding together to the point where they might have ground one another to dust but Lily could care less. That was her idea on his paper. That was her design she discussed with Mrs. Basel only a day prior, which was displayed gloriously on Raul Mendes’s paper. Even worse, it looked better than hers did, despite the hours she spent through the night blending and measuring and lettering every word on the damn slogan to perfection.

And the man stood to the front of the class just sat with an accomplished smile and dazzling brown eyes, as if he thought he deserved the credit. Her heart began thrumming in her chest, drowning out some of Raul’s syllables amidst his explanation which Lily was certain mimicked her presentation verbatim. Her fingers curled and twisted against her palms, the nails she would bite everyday subconsciously now digging broken crescents into her skin. Mad was one emotion Lily never found herself yearning to express—unlike Raul, who found no trouble allowing his to show a swelling bruise against Connor’s cheek—but this anger surging through her veins and rampant pulse appearing at her temples in seconds felt multiplied. The girl was furious.

As her sight of Raul began to become tainted with red, she detected Raul’s eyes in one, continuous spot. They remained on Isabella’s seat for the duration of his speech, though his target was not trying her hardest to reciprocate. From Lily’s seat, one could see the artificial light graze the girl’s profile like a brushstroke. Her jawline was slim and sharp, yet her lips portrayed a soft, childlike pout as she gazed adoringly down at her recently manicured set, coated in only the most overelaborate-named polishes, like “Harp Seal Silver Fur” or “Black Kyoto Pearl”. If it was not her nails, it was the new string of text messages her and Connor were participating in more often than class discussions if the teacher was too enthralled by the symbolism Orwell disguises so carefully, or how the human brain makes up an entire two percent of your body weight.

Unfortunately for Lily, she was also seated beside Isabella in their anatomy course, very much against her will.

“Brilliant job.” Mrs. K mutters to Raul upon him handing her his work. He returns the compliment with a taller smirk than he was holding before as if he was not staring into the woman responsible for questioning his attendance only two days prior. His eyes flickered back to Isabella and remained on her throughout his journey back into his desk seat, absorbing her from every angle, and allowing his footsteps to slow in their stride.

“Lily?” Her head snapped away from the spot Raul was just occupying, to Mrs. K, heartbeat rattling her ribcage like a xylophone out of tune.

“Huh?”

“It’s your turn…” The teacher informs.

“Oh…uh…” Her cheeks were aflame but thankful for her shoulder-length hair to curtain them as she tilted her head down to the open binder. Her work glared back at her, yearning so badly to be picked up and bragged about, but how was she to repeat the last five minutes of class in a different body and less adequate art piece, and not expect consequences. Judging by Raul’s unbridled confidence, Lily doubts he would come clean about his plagiarism. Even worse, he would not hesitate to manipulate the situation to fixate the blame on Lily, instead. It was not hard to do with the golden honey encapsulated in his irises and pair of choppers he has since been exchanging for a fine smirk. The point is that, though she had an honest reputation, so did Raul Mendes—for the most part. And who was she to allow that to possibly deteriorate within a matter of minutes over a school assignment?

It would be the mature thing to do, sure. But this was high school, and an eighteen your old Raul Mendes has made it clear that playing dirty in order to appease this newly constructed figure of his was less than bothersome.

“I guess…I-I forgot.” Lily murmurs quietly from her desk, closing her binder to remove the work from her sight. “Sorry, Mrs. K.” There was a tingling sensation against her right cheek from Raul’s speculating pair, but the feeling faded from her profile seconds after Isabella’s presence was invited to the front of the class by the instructor.

She would find a way to avenge the assignment soon. Little did her privy classmate know that Lily Mirray could play dirty when fate beckons for it. And fate’s call was Isabella standing up from her seat and strutting towards the whiteboard, skirt swishing in each step.

Raul’s fascinated stare remained on Isabella’s form throughout her entire presentation.

And so did Lily’s.

TAGLIST; @fanficshawn @lonelyreputation @shawnmendez @fan-of-many-bands

#shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes au #mendes triplet au #mendes triplets #raul mendes #peter mendes

46 notes · View notes

sunflwrsjustdied · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2 - The Phone Call.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Disclaimer: I did not write this story as a way to fetishize children having children. It is not about that. I wrote this story because I wondered what it would be like if Harry had a son, who also became a celebrity during Harry’s career. In order for the age of Harry’s sons to fit the career timeline I had to lower the age of Harry. I do not believe that children having children is a good thing nor do I try to fetishize it. I understand that this topic may be disturbing or disgusting to some people. If you do not like the idea of this story, then you don’t need to read it.

[Harry Styles sitting next to Ben Andrews (Lux’s cousin]

October.28.2012 London, England

•Harry• "Hello, Benjamin." Noah greeted Lux's cousin, Ben looked up shyly before mumbling a hi and then looking down.

"You're quite intimidating." I chuckled, seeing he made Ben, who was talking to everyone go quiet. He had the same effect on the hostess.

"Good." He mumbled, sitting down in the seat, he loved that feeling. No one wanting to talk to him out fear. Just a 9-year-old boy who made everyone terrified and thrived off of it.

I never understood why, but there were many people who got highly intimidated of him. For years people told me that 'the way he stands screams danger'.

He's been like this ever since primary school, daycare even. A real tough guy that got every girl attracted to him, even if they were just 4-years-old.

His first fight was at 2-years-old, it started off as a yelling match, until Noah threw punches at the boy who was a year older then him, all over a simple wooden block. The fight result in Noah getting a "red card" from his disturbed daycare teacher and a 3-year-old with a bloody lip.

If someone were to come between him and his persona, something so powerful will arise in him. He'll curse at them, throw things, anything to show them who they've messed with.

That made Noah who he was.

It showed how much he needed to like and trust you in order for vulnerability to show. Some people called him mysterious after this trait.

What a great combination, mysterious and dangerous. Described the 142 centimeter boy perfectly.

I never encouraged, nor discouraged his hunger for being persuaded that way. But it was never an act either, it was truly how Noah was, he's always been like that and he always will be.

I may not understand other peoples perspectives of him, but I could see where they were coming from in a way.

He was the most stereotypical boy you could ever meet. He looks at every girl, he runs around without a shirt on, he swears, he fights, he played every sport he could think of when he was younger. His most favourite sport of all time being baseball, followed by ice hockey. And he played both from when he was a toddler until he was 7. Anything boys "typically did" he did it all because it was the way of his personality.

Noah took a seat in-between Tom and I, he rested his elbow on the table and ran his hand throw his hair, I noticed his eyes would glance over at Ben with almost a look of jealousy in his eyes.

Oh.

Ben was sitting to the left of me. Ever since Noah was a baby, he always sat to the left of me at restaurants. Everyone in our family knew it and consciously never sat there, but a 4-year-old boy wouldn't know that.

"Noah!" Lux giggled, pointing to him trying to get out of Lou's lap, Lou gave Noah a look asking if she could go to him. Noah nodded and Lux ran over to him.

"Hello Luxie," Noah smiled lifting her into his lap.

Everyone talked waiting for the waitress.

She came eventually, but when she got to Noah, she stuttered, almost taken aback. "Wow, you're eyes are so blue. Oh God, I'm sorry. I've just never seen that before, " she said mesmerized.

"Thanks," Noah stared directly into her eyes, on purpose. "Sorry, um what can I get you?" "Fish and chips please."

• • •

"Dad, hide me please," Noah whispered, panic in his voice. "What, Why?" Harry frowned confused by his sons actions, "That waitress, I know her, now hide me! Don't draw attention."

"Who, her?" Tom nodded to the woman who was walking over to the table, specifically right behind Noah's chair.

Noah nodded, sinking in his chair and cover the side of his face.

"Hello, Noah." She smiled, her British accent was thick, "How's it going?"

"It's going great," Noah swallowed hard, his knee starting to bounce up and down.

"My daughter's still waiting on that call from you," She said, "And I'm still waiting for my phone to get fixed Lucy," Noah said with gritted teeth.

"It's been almost 2 months, how long can it take?" Lucy raised her eyebrow.

"As long as it needs to be fixed again." Noah replied, jaw clentched.

"Here's her number again, just in case you forget it," She immediately took out her pen and pad, writing on it fast, and handing it to him.

"Never- never in my life have I seen someone try to get their daughter to date someone so bad," Noah grunted, taking the paper and shook his head,

"Some parents want what's best for their children Noah, and I see that your are. Or to you, I'm a bad mother for that right?" Lucy frowned at Noah, trying to make him feel bad.

"We're nine- That's not even- I don't even remember her name Lucy." Noah sighed trying to argue but giving up, "It's Sabrina, Sabrina McCullen." Lucy smiled knowing she was breaking Noah to say yes.

"Just give my daughter a chance, she's a model too, maybe that'll somewhat change your mind." Noah's eyes did perk up hearing the information, "I told you, when the phones fixed," he smiled fake and widely, "Now have a nice day."

"We'll be waiting," Lucy walked off, and that's when Noah groaned, slouching down in his seat, about to crumple the paper.

"Keep it son, you'll need it." Noah looked up to his father with discomfort in his eyes, before putting it in his pocket.

"Who was that?" Tom asked, "I met her here a few months ago and a few times after that, she wouldn't shut up about how her daughter was my age and that we should date."

"She gave me her daughters number, so I told her my phone was broken and when it got fixed then I'd give her call."

"But Noah, your phone works perfectly, why haven't you?" Harry questioned, earning a glare from Noah, "Not what she thinks is it? If she knew that, she would probably try to get mine and I don't want that."

"Just call her, you never know," Harry suggested, "Yeah, if she's anything like her mother, I'll know for sure," Noah shook his head sighing.

"I'm surprised, I've never known my son to give up a chance with a girl," Harry chuckled, "Well almost every girl I don't meet through her annoying mother."

"Wait, are you saying, Noah is scared of someone? The Noah Styles, scared of someone?" Lou said in a some what genuinely shocked voice, earning an eye roll from Noah.

"No, I'm not scared of her, it's called avoiding someone you don't have an interest in someone."

A phone then started to ring at the table, "Oh Noah, it can't be yours. Yours is broken." Lucy said walking with the drinks our table ordered prior to our last order, along with another waitress.

Noah took in a deep breathe through his nose and let it out the same way, a look of annoyance on his features as he looked at a smirking Tom.

"I'm sorry, I need to take this." John apologized, looking at his phone and excusing himself and walking away from the table.

"You see what I mean," Noah said through gritted teeth, after she left, "Imagine having to see and hear that every time you visit your girlfriend."

"God I can hear it now. 'I'm the one who put you two together'. Probably trying to use my modelling career to make her daughter famous." Noah

"Then if you're not scared why don't you tell her that? Say you're not interested." Tom asked, intrigued, "Because I'm not that much of an asshole." Noah responded bluntly, "Hey, watch it," Harry scolded, knowing there was a much younger child sitting next to me and he nodded to him.

You'd think Harry would scold his son for swearing in general but boy did he give up on that a long time ago.

"It's fine, Harry," Dean, Lux's uncle and Ben's father laughed, "He's heard worse."

"But Noah, give her a chance, so what? Like you said you're just nine. It's not it will be long term and you're going to get married next week." Dean said, "Well to Lucy is it!" Noah grunted, "Aw, come on Noah. You never know," I smirked, "I'll think about it." Noah mumbled.

"Now can we please take about something else? God knows she listening or spiked my drink." Noah groaned, "Yes," Tom said and began talking to him about football.

•Harry• I saw John walk towards my chair, "Harry, I need to talk to you," John said quietly into my ear, I nodded "Sure," and followed him to the foyer.

"That was a call from a director, it was for Noah." He said to me, his demeanour serious.

I nodded, listening. "The director wants to meet him, and maybe cast him for a lead role. This is very important for Noah and his career," He explained. "But we both don't want to schedule a meeting unless you, Rose, or both of you give permission for it to happen."

"So Harry, would he be allowed to go to the audition?" He asked, "Well of course," I told him, without hesitation, "If it's something he'll want to do." Who I was kidding, Noah loved acting, and his first lead role in a movie would be amazing.

"Schedule it right now." I told him

"They said we could pick the date, but within now or next month. No later." "Where?" "New York." "Ok, ask if they're available for November 12."

"We'll be there around that time, and then we're leaving the next day. That's a good time to do it." John nodded and began to call the director back, telling him the details as well as listening to the directors.

After saying goodbye, he hung up the phone, "It's settled then. New York City, November 12. I'll talk to Noah later."

We both walked back to the table.

• • •

Dinner was finished, everyone was either talking or on their phones. Noah chose to be on his phone, what a mistake that was.

Lucy walked by the table, "So Noah," Noah jumped in his seat, startled by her sudden presence behind him, "Guess you got that phone fixed?" Noah swore he could just scream and yell at her, he was about to, so close to, until-

"It's actually my phone," Tom looked at her, grabbing the white iPhone 4S from Noah's hand, Lucy huffed and walked away.

"Oh my God, thank you. I was close to strangling her,"

• • •

It was late. Harry and Noah had just got home.

Noah was in room, emptying his pants pockets, and pulled out the stupid piece of paper. throwing it on the bed.

After brushing his teeth, Noah sat on his bed, picking up his phone and the paper. He sighed, looking in-between both objects. Fighting himself if he should just call her or not. Noah sighed going into his contacts and putting her name and number into his phone.

"Maybe one day," he mumbled tossing the note into his nightstand drawer.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagines #dad!harry #william franklyn-miller #liam payne #louis tomlinson #zayn malik #niall horan #one direction masterlist #one direction imagines #one direction

10 notes · View notes