#but this was all i could think abt this afternoon and she just appeared and like.. said all of it out loud and abt my sign?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

berriweb · 10 months

Note

do you think you could do a platonic miles and y/n where the reader comes out as lesbian? like y/n hasn’t told anyone and she’s been struggling abt it and kinda closing off to miles. and how miles would react. if u can’t it’s ok! and thanks if you do :)

╰┈➤ ❝ that’s it? ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. miles morales x fem! reader

: ̗̀➛ synopsis. reader comes out to miles as lesbian

: ̗̀➛ a/n. my mind and soul simply gravitated to this request as soon as I saw it and instantly knew what to write I love it sm

n/n — nickname

Miles knew something was seriously up from the moment you asked to come over.

He was no expert at reading people or knowing what to do when it came to comforting someone, he couldn’t sense what was going through someone’s head or guess what emotions they were feeling from a glance, but he had been your best friend long enough to know you, and by association when there was something wrong and you weren’t telling him.

In the beginning Miles didn’t worry too much when you stopped wanting to hang out as often, it was around finals season and he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was because you were busy with school. He had his fair share of times where he’d been flaky due to his own personal matters (mostly due to Spider-Man business), he wasn’t going to take it personally, but then you started getting distant.

Scratching off his first assumption, he came to the conclusion that maybe something had happened to you instead. Trouble at home, a bad friend, a crush gone wrong? He’d tried going through every bad scenario in his head but none seemed applicable, and with you starting to close yourself off from him it was getting harder and harder for him to find out. He didn’t want to come off as too strong so he started to resort to subtly hinting that you could talk to him whenever the two of you would hang out.

Or at least he believed it was subtle, but awkwardly suggesting that the two of you start confessing anything that’s been trouble you, then insisting you go first and repeating how he was there to listen wasn’t exactly keeping his intentions low-key. Still, the effort was there and it was clear he had no ill will and was doing his best to try to help, but to no avail. When that eventually lead to you starting to avoid him all together unless unavoidable, Miles came to the conclusion that he must’ve done something.

N/N: ‘Can I come over?’

He felt his mouth dry as he stared down at the message that’d only just appeared in his recent notifications.

Miles had been cooped up in his room after the school day, hunching over his desk drawing for what was likely hours to occupy his hands and distract his mind. It’d only been a few weeks since the two of you had a proper conversation, but to him it might as well have been an eternity. By that point he’d accepted the fact that he’d been in the wrong and would simply have to wait for you to want to speak with him again to get a chance to properly apologize, but nevertheless he was still caught off guard when you suddenly texted him that afternoon wanting just that.

He frowned at his phone, sitting slouched in his chair and hastily tapping his marker against his desk. Even then, Miles could sense the abnormality in your tone with the dry message you’d sent, and he couldn’t help but silently wonder what could’ve possibly went wrong to warrant it.

After debating for what was probably far too long about how to respond, he chose what he assumed to be the safe route and sent a small ‘yep’ and a thumbs up emoji.

He didn’t bother to elaborate on anything else, by this point the two of you had hung out so often that you were familiar with where his home was and would stop by regularly, even getting approval from his parents for being one of his only respectable friends, though when your only competition was Ganke it wasn’t that hard to win them over.

He didn’t leave his room even after he’d noticed you’d read the message. It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to be happy to see you, it’d been far too long since you’d seen each other outside of school, but part of him was worried that it’d only been initiated so that you could break it to him that your friendship was over when you arrived and he wouldn’t know what to think.

It was around half an hour later when he heard the familiar sound of the front door opening and his mother’s voice happily greeting the visitor, followed by a knock at his own bedroom door.

“You have a visitor~!”

When it swung open, his mom was beaming and you were standing sheepishly beside her. You’d walked in without a word, but as Miles stood to shut the door after you his mom paused, shooting him a look that sent shivers down his spine but sent a clear message that she could tell something was wrong and for him to tread carefully.

When he turned back to you, every apology he’d practiced and revised in his head was gone in an instant and he regretted not writing it down on cards beforehand. You’d sat on his bed, glancing around the room and studying the decor as if you hadn’t seen it many times before, unable to meet his gaze.

With every ounce of intelligence slowly draining out of his head, Miles’ idea of mending the situation was to say what first came to mind.

“I’m sorry!” He blurred out without thinking, and much louder than he had intended for it to come out.

At the very least it got your attention, nearly making you jump as you suddenly turned and looked at you, but the assumed anger he’d expect to cross your face never came. Instead, your eyebrows knitted together and the left was slightly raised, staring at him with confusion written all over your face.

“…for what?”

It was then Miles turn to look confused, followed by dumbfounded at your lack of understanding. That was a great question, actually. What was he sorry for?

“I, uh-” he stumbled over his words for a moment, standing awkwardly with his hand gestures doing no good at explaining his words for him. “For…I don’t know, actually.”

He let out a strained sigh. “I don’t know what I did but you’ve been acting real weird so I kinda figured I did something?” His explanation sounded more of a question than a statement, but he got his point across nonetheless, watching the guilt cross your face as you listen.

“Wha- no, Miles, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault, really,” you assured remorsefully, patting the spot next for you as an invitation for him to sit.

Miles let out a breathe he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, relieved at the revelation that he, in fact, had not been in the wrong, but as he accepted your gesture and sat down, he couldn’t help but wonder that if it wasn’t an issue with him, what was it? You must’ve recognized the puzzled expression on his face and realized what he was wondering.

“It’s…complicated. I was struggling with something and I didn’t mean to be so cold but I was worried and didn’t want to tell you in case you-” “Hey-”

Miles cut you off mid sentence, placing a hand on your shoulder with an expression that matched the sudden switch to serious and concern he displayed. “You don’t have to worry about that, you can tell me anything. What kind of friend would I be if I couldn’t? No judgement, I swear.”

You smiled at the genuine reassurance from him, only for him to immediately follow up and break the seriousness of the conversation. “-unless you were confessing to something crazy, I guess, like eating babies or kicking old people; in that case maybe I’d judge a little.”

He was satisfied with the laugh you cracked at the switch, it’d been a while since he’d seen you genuinely smile. When it subsided, he removed his hand and let you bring it back down to properly speak.

“Promise that you’ll be cool about this-” “Promise.” “-and won’t go blabbing to anyone-” “Done and done.” “-not a single soul.” “My lips are sealed.”

The anticipation was bubbling up within him and he nearly started fidgeting from it alone as he waited for you to explain what’d you’d been struggling with and upsetting your friendship for so long.

“…I’m a lesbian.”

Miles counted approximately 12 seconds of long, drawn out silence as the two of you stared at each other, you with an expectant and hesitant expression and him with a completely blank face, before your sharp inhale broke the silence and his head tilted slightly to the right, raising a brow.

“…that’s it?”

You blinked. Miles blinked.

“…yes?”

Miles was, once again, no expert at comforting people or responding to any serious conversation that normally would’ve been emotional, which would explain why rather than any normal route, he laughed.

You were left sitting there, more puzzled than ever before as he slapped a hand over his mouth to try and contain his fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

After he willed himself to calm down in a matter of seconds, Miles let out a deep breath and beamed at you.

“You thinking there would’ve been a problem if you’d told me this is what’s funny.” Miles playfully bumped your shoulder, and you could tell he was keeping the tone lighthearted despite the significance of his words. “I couldn’t care less if you like girls, no one else would or should either. If anything this is great! Eventually I’ll get to flex that I’m the first person you came out too!”

The sincerity of his words was enough to make you smile and almost completely forget your previous reluctance to bring this up to him in the first place. “Miles, you’re an idiot.” He frowned and exaggerated his motion as he slumped his shoulders. “But thank you, I really appreciate you, I mean that.” He cheered back up in an instant.

“Anytime.”

bonus:

“Hey does this mean I can talk about girls with you now too?”

“You already did that Miles.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same when I thought only I could like them. Maybe not though, you do have shitty taste.”

“Hey-!”

“What do you think of that girl in second period who sits in the corner? I think she’s pretty cute.”

“Eh, she’s alright I guess, but I’m more into your mom.”

“…okay, too far.”

“Worth it.”

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv #atsv fanfiction #spider man #atsv x reader #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles x reader #miles x you

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3ammonologue · 1 year

Text

notes on meltdown april 11

Meltdown

Bipolar

Dance

Bij

Mom brought up

Fine conversation

But then triggered me

For the squandered opportunity/life regret chance

Biggest heartbreak of my life

Mom brought up she saw her with gray hair dancing on ig

Started face hit upstairs and then went downstairs and screamed etc.

Came downstairs and screamed into pillow in guest room

But then I looked at bs’ instagram and she posted about a dance workshop with various international students

Makes me want to kill myself

Looked at her new upgraded website and there is an edu section

My website is still up but obsolete

Even before this in the afternoon

I was doing my 15 min cardio (made it to 5) and I was thinking after I get better then I will message them abt classes again

Seeing her ig/posts/website/students/bahama student etc/

Made me feel sick to my stomach

Anxiety

Did face hitting and shrieking (and recorded it)

Did search history for Odissi (176ish) and deleted it from my search history. Did same for Bharatanatyam (but should write about the shijith show)….

Then searched 2nd chance things

Then showered

in shower started thinking about my suicide note!!

Will shower again

Earlier in afternoon took .5 Xanax

Then took 1 Xanax and showered

My heart is still beeating fast

I was supposed to finish the website work today but idk now my meltdown!! I have to finish it !! Maybe I should stay up

Don’t know what else to do to calm down besides scream/shower/xanax….need to start running from now on

Need to calm down

I already started dreaming in the shower about asking sr.la about the email and advice/re

Already dreaming in the shower abt my choreo (was thinking I will listen to the Tarana music rn but not sure if it will help or depress…will try for 2 min and see)

Going to read the 2nd chance articles now

Now came into the dark med room with headphones

Need to calm down and then work

Need to unfollow ballet accounts too on ig

Shouldn’t have looked her up…there is a reason I unfollowed…

Looking for bipolar calm down YouTube music

Meeting with boss tomorrow 1pm

Meeting with therapist tomorrow 2pm

Listening to BV Tarana now 3 min…

…well I knew in the first 1 min that it wouldn’t improve me…but I listened to the whole thing….I can see my choreo in my mind’s eye….

Now my heart is feeling anxiety

Plan:

Listen to binaural for 10 min and skim the articles

Try to work for 15 min….more if I can concentrate

I’m twitching again

Feel like slapping myself

——

What can I do — srla

Neuro followed by 1 year of physical injuries

All I could think in the hospital

Sometimes dance makes me happy — kalkika stutee vibes around

— biggest regret of my life

——————

“f you’re afraid of appearing needy, there’s a strong likelihood you’re scared about the prospect of this relationship ending.”

“I've been thinking about what happened and I've come up with three reasons why I want to give this another shot. Let me share them with you

People can learn from their mistakes—and when you give them a second opportunity, you allow them to demonstrate this. It's practical and saves emotional energy. You gave your mechanic the job of fixing a defective valve and now it's broken again.Aug 2, 2016

Choose A Good Time To Apologize

Create Specific Plan For Improvement

don’t just tell managers that you will improve, tell them how

Getting a second chance is a matter of trust

——

5 min over but still skimming

——

I know that I have no right to ask you for a second chance, but I promise that I have addressed the source of the problem and that I am taking the following steps to correct it and ensure that it never happens again

Be early: TBe concise in describing your situation:Be specific in what you are asking forPut the onus on yourself:Be willing to take an incomplete for the course:

Thank your professor for their time in considering your request:

——

Don’t really think this all helped me

Its 9:15 now

My usual get in bed time frame…

I wanted to work from 7pm-11pm today

But now I guess I will give myself 30 min (10 min intervals) between now and 3.5 hrs and then a relaxation between before going to bed at 1am

https://imgur.com/a/SgzTQGL

----- update:

Its 11:19 and I didn’t do a single line on the work doc

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shingia · 3 years

Note

can i req suna,, akaashi and iwa (and anyone else u want!!) getting jelly abt the s/o hanging out with another guy and being touchy (like the playful smacking or smth) without knowing the guy was their brother? angst to fluff bc i want the ✨ pain ✨ if u dont wanna its fine too,,

thanks bby,, love ur works so much! stay safe and healthy 😫💗

✗ HQ BOYS GETTING JEALOUS OF A GUY WITHOUT KNOWING HE’S YOUR BROTHER ✗

me receiving a request : 🥰 the request including suna :🤩 tysmm bby stay safe and healthy tooo <3

-> suna, iwaizumi, akaashi

-> angst to fluff

-> reblogs help a lot <33

— SUNA

• he hadn’t asked many questions when you told him you couldn’t come over to his house in the afternoon. but now, as he was replaying your snapchat story for the sixth time, he really wished he did

• maybe if he had insisted on coming with you, you wouldn’t have let this guy - that he had never seen, for the record - act so touchy with you

• was it his fault for not making you feel special enough ? to the point that you preferred the company of other men rather than your own boyfriend’s ?

• just the thought of this was enough to make a few of his usually well-hidden insecurities bubble up - most of them due to what his friends always joked about « suna doesn’t care enough to be in a relationship, they’ll all run away after a week ! »

• so yes, suna was hurt, but you didn’t have to see that. your opinion on him was the only one he cared about, he didn’t want to tarnish it. well... your opinion and his little sister’s, who burst into his room as he was about to watch your story for the seventh time to tell him that « someone’s at the door ! »

• not feeling like getting out of bed, it took him a few minutes to drag his feet to the door before finally opening it. and of all the people he could have expected to see, you were the last of them

• « surprise ? » you smiled as you let yourself in, not noticing the surprised look on his face as you greeted him with a tight hug. « i felt bad for cancelling our afternoon together, so i asked my brother to drop me off »

• you weren’t even done talking that suna had already recognized the man in the car that was leaving his driveway. his embrace immediately softened, and a smile crept on his face as he felt all his doubts vanish in a second

• « nuh-uh, don’t take your jacket off beautiful, i’m taking you out », he told you, determined to spoil you in the way he regretted not doing sooner

• at his words, his sister almost magically appeared next to you, coat in hand and ready to go. « you weren’t planning on leaving without me, right ? » she flashed you a toothless grin, grabbing both your hand and his to drag you two outside

• suna shared a deadpanned look with you, « of course not... » you both said in unison as she was already leading the way to her favorite ice cream shop

— IWAIZUMI

• iwa’s trust in you was infinite. but something about the way this guy had his arm playfully wrapped around your shoulders didn’t sit right with him

• his practice had ran late and he was exhausted. but he had promised you he would pop over to the birthday party of your childhood best friend, knowing how much it mattered to you

• but your behavior looked an awful lot like an attempt at making him jealous... and it was working

• was it your way of letting him know that you two weren’t working anymore ? were you just too much of a coward to be clear about it ? he hated to think about you that way. and most of all, he cared about you too much to not step in

• « ok now you got my attention » he told you after pulling you to the side. « if you want to tell me something, go ahead, i’m listening »

• still trapped in the euphoria of the moment, you didn’t really understand how upset he was. but maybe it was for the best, because it allowed you to defuse the tension lightheartedly : « i can’t believe i forgot to introduce you ! » you let out as you dragged him back to where your brother was still standing

• his jaw still clenched, iwa couldn’t even bring himself to shake this stranger’s hand, as friendly as he looked. at least not until you spoke your next words : « he was actually telling me how excited he was to finally met his future brother-in-law ! »

• iwa’s lips slightly parted in confusion, you could almost hear the cogs turning in his head over the music. brother? well that explained a lot of things

• « h-hi, sorry i was... miles away » he apologized before finally shaking the hand your brother was holding out to him

• but once the surprise had passed, another word stuck with him : brother-in-law ? as in « my sibling speaks so highly of you that i’m willing to let you put a ring on their finger even though i have never met you yet » ?

• well, it was good to know that your brother agreed with the plans he’d had for you since day 1...

— AKAASHI

• it was not unusual for akaashi to think that maybe he was not good enough for you. but being actually jealous was a first for him

• he had promised himself to never be too overprotective of you. but the facts were here : it was 3am and the only thing keeping him up was this unknown feeling of pure jealousy

• if he had not been in such a hurry when he witnessed your lighthearted banter and playful fighting with this man in the afternoon, he would’ve come up to you. introduced himself. maybe asked a few questions. if

• suspecting that this unpleasant feeling would not go away unless he talked to you about it, akaashi found himself dialling your number in the middle of the night

• used to his thoughts polluting his mind at unpredictable hours of the day and the night, your ringer was always on. which is why you picked up after only two rings

• « hi angel, i’m sorry to wake you up, i just... » he started, the clarity of his tone letting you know that he had not slept a wink. feeling his hesitation, you were quick to reassure him « it’s ok keiji. what’s going on ? »

• « who were you with ? i mean- this afternoon ? i don’t think i’ve ever met that guy and i was just wondering if... maybe i should ? »

• sitting up straight on your bed, you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders. if this was the only thing keeping him awake, he should be able to fall asleep in the following minutes. « i was with my brother. but i understand why you were confused, it’s a normal reaction so please don’t blame yourself for that, alright baby ? »

• the gasp you heard on the other end of the line made you chuckle. akaashi’s voice was much less tensed now : « well in that case, yeah i should probably meet him... if you’re ok with that »

• « i’m more than ok with that » you smiled, placing your phone down on your pillow « wanna stay on the phone for a bit ? »

• « that’d be nice », his voice sounded sleepy already, especially above the familiar sound of his covers being pulled up to his chin

— ATSUMU

• how could he put that in words ? he didn’t even know if he was allowed to be jealous because he knew how often you had to see him deal with his many fangirls

• and that was actually what bugged him the most : that he might have already made you feel as shitty as he was feeling now

• but atsumu wasn’t the type to sit down and seriously open up about his feelings. besides, it was much easier to look like a needy boyfriend rather than a vulnerable one

• so he resorted to what he was best at : physical touch as a way to get your attention

• sneaking up behind you, he didn’t give you any warning before wrapping both his arms around your waist and pressing his chest on your back so much that you almost had to bend over

• he really hoped you would be perceptive enough to understand that he wasn’t just being clingy, but in need of a lot of reassurance. and luckily, it was quick to come :

• « tsumu, let me introduce you my brother » you chuckled, understanding how and why he had been mistaken

• one hand still on your waist, he used the other to greet your brother. atsumu did not really seem fazed by the news. of course he was relieved to know that he had nothing to worry about, but this little experience had still been very eye-opening to him

• after your brother had left to give you two some privacy, tsumu’s grip on your waist tightened, but in a softer way

• « ‘m sorry if i ever made ya cry » he let out, completely out of the blue. you didn’t really understand the meaning of this, but it didn’t matter. your hand found its way to his cheek that you brushed lightly with one finger, admiring the how it was slowly turning red. « being jealous sucks... » he added.

• « it does », you approved, giving him a quick peck on the nose. « but there’s nothing and no one that you should worry about, i promise »

• a fond smile lit up his face. you looked sincere, and he really needed to hear that right now. quick as ever, his hands left your waist to come and rest on your cheeks. both holding each other’s faces, you stared at the other for a few seconds, wondering which one of you would give in to a kiss first

TAGLIST : @toworuu @catwithangerissues @miyumiya @livy384 @k0u-minamo2 @fullsundear @hsjvwq @kelsuuki @hiraeth-z @velvetvirgos @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner @47meow @japanesevenom @geektastic84 @noir-blanches-blog @idontlikeyourjob @seiri-ami @atiny-grl-with-luv @admiringlove @nachotrash @kellesvt @aintyourholy @Moonlaeli @catchmewiddershins @duhsies @devilgirlcrybabiey @crystal-lilac @ijustwantfreenetflix @mimaki @maitenight

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst to fluff #haikyuu imagines #suna rintarou x reader #akaashi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #atsumu x reader #suna fluff #akaashi fluff #iwaizumi fluff #atsumu fluff #suna angst #iwaizumi angst #atsumu angst #akaashi angst

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yatsugareboyf · 2 years

Note

awh those hc for atsushi & tanizaki hurt me in all the rights ways but they were also rlly soft and those are the writings i love the most, i kept on rereading it hehe

and i never realized how much i loved tanizaki until i came across those hcs so i thank you for awakening that for me <33

this request might seem to similar to the one the anon asked for so you don’t have to write this if you don’t want to, but can i ask for atsushi and tanizaki (separately) accidentally standing up their s/o on a date?? smth like they’re there for hours and the boys just don’t show up and their s/o just goes home? or they arrive just as their abt to leave?

and pls pls take care of yourself author-san we love u💗💗

sorry this might come late aaaaaaa anw thank u sm for this req (i never thought tht the tanizaki + atsu post would do well) i hope u enjoy, take care too ^^

hcs for atsushi and tanizaki accidentally standing up their s/o.

nakajima atsushi

like i said in the other post mentioned in the ask, he isnt the type of guy to forget dates or stand you up

he'd feel guilty and sad if he did yknow, esp if its on purpose. he wouldnt do tht to you

so let's say tht he had an urgent matter to attend to that popped up unexpectedly

he couldn't tell you over the phone because his phone is dead, and he couldn't borrow anyone else's because he'd only be rushed out of the agency to do this task

"im so sorry, y/n. ill try and make it on time." he says to no one in particular as he speeds up his pace to finish this mission as quick as he can

you, on the other hand, are all set to go to this new cafe down the block

it's been a while since he's taken you on a date, and it just so happens to be at a friday afternoon after your work/school and his work hours

usually he's the first one to arrive, but you show up first, and you didnt think much of it, he could be caught up with dazai again

aaaaand its been 30 mins and he hasnt shown up so you order something and decide to wait for him more, you know his work and how it can be.... weird... at times

you've finished your food by the time the sky turns dark and the cafe slowly loses its customers as its almost abt to close

its not tht late, probably around 7 pm, you lost track of time anyway

you were sad, but also confused because atsushi, the atsushi nakajima, had stood you up. out of all people?

since you dont wanna be kicked out by the employees, you left by yourself, leaving a tip for ur waitress who so kindly gave you an extra drink ("hey, i saw you kinda sad, so its on the house.")

on your way back home, you saw atsushi running towards you with a tired expression

"atsu? are you okay?" you worry abt his appearance, his shirt sleeves ripped up to his biceps and pants also ripped

"you're worrying abt me when im 3 hours late to our date? :("

"of course i am, who cares abt the date?? are you okay, are you injured?" even if you were bummed out abt the date, his well being came first to you, which made atsushi lowk tear up

he pulls you into a hug and keeps apologizing for being late, saying he'll make it up to you and whatnot but ur here fussing because he won't let you tend to him

y'all ended up watching a movie at home after he reluctantly let you patch him up and feed him

hes so happy tht you weren't mad at him like fr he was like "what if she hates me? what if she thinks im cheating?" on the way to the coffee shop 😔 my poor baby

tanizaki junichirou

i keep using naomi as his excuse but i really cant think of any other thing that can keep him away

naomi probably needed help for a project in school, so he left a bit earlier to go to help her in the library.

when u woke up, juni wasnt there anymore, so you thought he was preparing for your cute little picnic date

u imagined him setting up a cute little blanket with fairy lights and candles like omg so romantic

so u were sooo excited !! u sent him a quick text saying that ure getting ready and u got up to heat up the food u both prepared the night before

with the basket in hand u walked to the park where u planned to set up

aaaand he wasnt there, like nothing

there were no fairy lights, no blanket, no candles, nothing

poor u, u thought he would already be setting up the date :((

so u called atsushi to see if he went to the agency

“tanizaki-kun? he hasn’t been here since yesterday, i dont think he has a shift today, y/n-san. why do you ask?”

“oh... thank you, atsushi. i was just looking for him..”

“have you tried calling him?”

“yeah but i think he has his phone turned off...”

ok anw

you waited like around 4 hours for him to show up :((

like u tried not to eat the food but damn u havent eaten so u ate like a few sandwiches and one of the yogurts you packed

until the sun went down and he still hasnt arrived

but he called you!

“y/n, where are you? i just got home from the library...”

“library? what were you doing in the library?”

“i was helping naomi with her project, i thought i told you?”

“well you forgot, and you also forgot we had a date today, im guessing?”

“... a date? what do- oh.. the picnic date we planned??? omg y/n i-im so sorry-”

“it’s fine, junichirou,” you sigh “ill just go home-”

“nononono! im coming there, wait for me, okay?”

“juni, it’s fine, really, ill just go home”

“nope, stay there, baby, im coming”

and he arrived with candles and fairy lights and take out from your favorite place :(((

so yeah he really just becomes clingy and apologizes a lot and makes it up to u :((

“y/n :((((( im sorry :((((((”

“i told u, its fine”

#bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd atsushi #bsd tanizaki #atsushi nakajima #atsushi x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi headcanons #atsushi #atsushi imagines #tanizaki junichirou #tanizaki x reader #tanizaki junichirou x reader #tanizaki imagines #tanizaki headcanons #bsd imagines #bsd headcanons #yatsugareboyfwrites

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wearfinethingsalltoowell · 3 years

Text

Downton AU Snippet #1

Set in the opening scene of 3.05, Richard’s been Matthew’s valet since abt 3.03

Returning to his dressing room after his sister-in-law’s false labor pains, Matthew Crawley felt a twinge of guilt at seeing his valet still awake.

“It’s nearly two in the morning, Richard. Have we kept all the servants from their rest this evening?” Matthew asked, trying to keep his tone light but unable to hide his genuine concern for the staff’s welfare.

“It was no trouble at all, sir,” Richard responded, conveniently not answering Matthew’s question, “Is everything all right with Lady Sybil?”

“Clarkson says everything is as it should be, and given that I have no experience on the topic, I am going to trust his judgement.”

“In your defense, sir, most men our age have no experience in this particular field.”

“You can say that again. I’m nearing my twenty-eighth year on Earth and I’ve never been around a pregnant woman!”

“A natural consequence of being your mother’s only child, sir. And you should count yourself lucky. When I was younger, I overheard the rather unpleasant experience of a friend of my sister. Believe me when I tell you it’s all I needed to know about the subject.”

“Oh? What happened to her?”

“Her parents were so concerned about her that they shelled out thousands for a huge London doctor to come and treat her. I think he even had a practice on Harley Street. It was all the neighborhood could talk about for weeks. But, during the birth, I guess he missed the symptoms of some disease or other, and she died.” Richard explained, forcing away the growing feeling that he had said too much.

“That’s horrible,” Matthew said, attempting to console his friend, “did you know her well?”

“Not very, though she had been very close with my sister,” Richard said.

“Still, quite tragic, especially for a young woman. Do you remember who the doctor was?” Matthew asked, not knowing what had prompted this sudden curiosity about such a small detail of Richard’s story, but nearly being swallowed by the feeling that it was of paramount importance that he know.

“I could never forget it,” Richard said with a chuckle, “The village was so furious with him, I thought they’d form a mob and storm his practice with pitchforks. It was a Dr. Tapsell.”

Matthew’s blood ran cold, and suddenly he could hear his heart beat speed up.

“Good God,” he breathed, “you don’t mean Phillip Tapsell, do you?” he asked, praying he was wrong in his assumption.

“Yes, sir, it was him. What’s wrong?” Richard questioned when he saw the horrified look on Matthew’s face.

“That’s the doctor Robert has hired for Sybil. I have to tell him right away!”

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” Richard said quickly, trying to take back his words, “I wouldn’t want to cause His Lordship any undue stress before his first grandchild’s birth. I’m sure he’s a fine doctor who just made a mistake.”

“Trust me, Richard, if something happens to Sybil, and Cora, my wife, or, god forbid, the Dowager, finds out I knew this information and withheld it, then my war injury will no longer be the most painful thing that’s ever happened to me. I have to tell Robert as soon as I can.”

“If you think it would help, sir.”

“I do, immensely. And I owe you a debt of gratitude for the warning, God only knows what might have happened otherwise. Goodnight.” Matthew said, retreating to his bedroom.

______________________

“You were in your dressing room so long, I was beginning to worry.” Mary said when her husband finally appeared in their bedchamber.

“So sorry, darling, but I promise it was for good reason. I was having the most enlightening chat with Richard.”

“I’m glad to see you and your new valet get on so well. Molesley was nice, but I sometimes wondered if he’d ever interacted with another human before.”

Nodding in agreement at his wife’s comment, Matthew began to recount Richard’s story for her.

When he’d finished, she looked nearly as panicked as he had when he’d heard it.

“And this is the doctor Papa has hired to treat Sibyl?” Mary nearly screamed.

When Matthew shook his head “yes”, she took it as permission to continue spiraling into fear for her sister.

“We have to tell him, and the earliest possible opprotunity!”

Putting his hand through his wife’s hair in a calming gesture, Matthew tried to soothe her worries while panicking himself.

“Darling, I couldn’t agree more. We’ll find Robert tomorrow morning, as soon as he wakes up. Don’t worry, I’m certain the second he hears what Richard told me, he won’t let Tapsell near Sybil. I’m certain Clarkson won’t mind stepping in at the last minute.”

Her worries not quite gone, but recognizing there was nothing she could do until morning, Mary fell into a restless sleep.

————————————-

Meanwhile, in the servants hall, Richard was replaying his conversation with Matthew in his head when His Lordship’s valet walked in.

“Mr. Barrow,” Richard greeted the man whom he’d taken to calling “Thomas” in his head. Her Ladyship’s maid had pulled him aside his first week on the job, and told him that, as one of the longest serving staff members, getting into Thomas’ good graces would help him advance at the Abbey. Richard hadn’t needed to be told twice, and he was glad that he’d taken her advice. Thomas was now his closest friend at Downton (and if he spent a good chunk of time gauging if more than that was possible, that was his own business).

“Mr. Ellis,” Thomas greeted in return, “how are you?”

“I might have just gotten myself in a bit of trouble with His Lordship.”

“You? What could you have said to get yourself into trouble?”

“I was chatting with Mr. Crawley earlier, and I ended up telling him about a friend of my sister’s, who passed in childbirth. It turned out the doctor who failed her is the same one His Lordship hired to treat Lady Sibyl.”

When Thomas burst out laughing, Richard’s concerned expression turned confused.

“What is amusing about that?”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said, catching his breath, “It’s just that, His Lordship forgave me for literally stealing from him numerous times, is currently fighting to overturn his valet’s conviction for murder, and his wife has a maid who would be more at home as one of Notre Dame’s gargoyles. I truly doubt that his son-in-law’s valet warning him about a potential threat to the life of his beloved youngest daughter is gonna be the straw that breaks his back.”

Realizing from Thomas’ words that he was being a tad ridiculous, Richard sighed.

“I just didn’t want him to stress out unnecessarily”

“I promise, when Mr. Crawley tells him your story, he’ll be grateful to you.”

————————————

The following morning, both Matthew and Thomas’ predictions from the previous night came true.

Mary and Matthew had corned Robert the second they saw him, and told him everything. Robert cursed, made them promise not to tell his mother, and cancelled Sir Phillip’s services immediately, and asked Cora to telephone Clarkson, which she happily did.

And, that afternoon, Richard jumped to his feet when the Earl of Grantham himself appeared in the servants hall.

“Your Lordship,” he greeted.

“Ellis, I wanted to come down and personally offer my thanks. Your conversation with Matthew yesterday evening may have saved my daughter a traumatic experience, and I am very grateful.”

“Thank you, Your Lordship. I’m glad I was able to help.”

______________

This is my first attempt at any type of fic since my ancient Wattpad account, and it is probably very bad, but I hope it was at least cute. Possibly more snippets from this au coming if anyone likes it

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfic #downton abbey fanfiction #my writing #mary crawley #richard ellis #thomas barrow #barellis #barris #matthew crawley #mary crawley x matthew crawley #downton abbey au #tw death mention

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seijorhi · 3 years

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asks :))

what i have learned today is that y’all wanna get fucked by some monsters...

What does nostos mean? What language is it in? 🤔 also I of course loved it, mind blown as usual queen

it’s ancient greek! it means homecoming, the idea of a triumphant return home for the hero after a long journey. i found it through looking at the root of nostalgia. in this fic of course it’s kind of a grim tongue in cheek play on it. the reader’s coming back to the mountains, but she’s running away after a bad breakup, and the welcome she gets is... shall we say less than ideal haha

Just read nostos-

First of all as a person who reads monster shit- hell ya. Mhm. That’s some good shit right there. That was DELICIOUS horror. It actually had me a bit nervous and afraid to read what was gonna happen next 😳

Secondly- omg I wanna know what happened next (at the end) 👀 know what I mean??? 😼

ANYWAY AS ALWAYS you never disappoint and your writing is fantastic (if/when you write horror yandere stuff again I’ll be there- frothing at the mouth. A+++++ work ILY💖)

you want me to write the monster porn, just say it bby ghfjdkshgfjkd but ty

Omfg that fic was so good!

Did the readers mom know about monster kuroo?? Or was she just worried because of the previous murder? And did Kuroo somehow manipulate reader into coming back to the forest or was it just a big coincidence? (👁👄👁 there's no such thing as a coincidence)

Looking forward to your future work <3

ty nonnie!! i didn’t have the right space for it, but after kohsuke was ripped apart and eaten kuroo stayed by the reader’s side until late in the night, only disappearing when he heard the reader’s parents/search party approaching. they found her lying in pools of blood (and scattered half eaten body parts), shaking and unresponsive – they knew no animal could’ve done something like that. so they knew something lurked in those woods, but considering the reader had repressed the memories, her mom couldn’t just come out and say it <33

You are an AMAZING horror writer!!!

The uneasiness I got from the conversations with the mom is just *chefs kiss*

A+++++

ahh thank you!! horror is such a hard genre to write because i’m never sure if the suspense and everything’s gonna hit right haha

I read Nostos before going to sleep last night and at the time I was like “sure hope this doesn’t give me nightmares” and thankfully it didn’t lol. But I think I’m willing to take that chance again because it’s so GOOD and I think I’m just going to have to relive it – @ohno-otome

fhdjgbfhjkdfn i’m glad it didn’t give you nightmares bby!! but i also appreciate that haha, i’m an absolute wimp with scary movies and stuff but i just can’t stop watching them haha

I just wanna say that I was listening to "You're a psychotic villain playlist" on youtube while reading Kuroo's oneshot and I can't explain the emotions I felt, but I'd let Kuroo do things to me asdfghjkl – @itishebihime-samaforyou

ooh nice! sometimes the right playlist makes things doubly as fun haha

OH MY GOD!?!?! Nostos was soooo GOOD?!?!? Like it was so creepy (but in a good way), and scary and suspenseful!! And the ending!?!? Omggg honestly one my fav fics from you!! You did my mans Kuroo justice 🥺💖💕

TYYYYYYY i was genuinely concerned i was gonna scare everybody off haha

Ah! The new fic! Chiefs kiss! Magnificent! Bravo!🧚‍♀️✨🧞‍♀️🦖🦭🌹💫

tysm nonnie!!! <33

i’m pretty sure i’m in the same/similar timezone as you? and i do be staying up late to be one of the first to read your fics (i usually stay up late anyways). so imagine my surprise when i see you post in the afternoon. in conclusion, whether you post to align with your european and american readers’ timezone, my gmt+10 arse will still be one of the first to read your fics. also nostos sjdufigyyjf i have to admit, i recently just found out about monster fucking and nostos scratched the itch😫 i feel bad for kohsuke though

bby i always post at like 2-4 in the morning please get some sleep!! the fics will be there in the morning lmao. i kinda low key forget about my aussie/gmt+10 followers because i think there’s like... 3 of you haha

Honestly if i could give u a dollar everytime i got off to your fics, you'd probably be rich by now

lmao the idea that people find my fics hot enough to get off to still blows my mind lol

your newest kuroo fic was so SO good!! its totally okay if you dont want to answer this so you can keep things ambiguous but is monster kuroo planning on killing the reader after he's...done with them

thank you, bby!! but no, monster kuroo isn’t gonna eat her – he’s had plenty of chances to do that if that’s what he wanted, but he has other plans for the poor reader

RHI, I WANT TO STATE FOR THE RECORD THAT I AM OKAY WITH MORE MONSTER FUCKING IN THE FUTURE. i also want to say im not a monster fucker, but that just feels like a lie at this point. okay, now that that's off my chest, i love it. the mystery, the connections of kuroo to a cat. kuroo's probably gonna go and batter around his prey once they're under his grip like my cat does. hopefully the reader will come out somewhat unscathed, if they are ever allowed to leave 😌 love this, love how different it is, the way kuroo just tries to weasel in. very monster and yandere vibes, very you. have i said i love this yet?? id willingly let him get me drunk on his cock, maybe never leave the peace of the mountains again

‘i want to say that i’m not a monster fucker’ bby the denial will get you nowhere haha. just lean in and embrace it hgfjkdlkfgjnkdl ahh but thank you this is such a sweet ask ILY!!!

Omg omg the monster thing kuroo was in ur latest fic is so familiar to me abdhdmfnjfjf. I remember being told abt a monster with VERY SIMILAR characteristics to it (aka the not being able to go inside a house unless invited and using fire to lure ppl out) AND JFC IT TERRIFIED ME. Esp how when i told ppl around me and they didnt recognize what it was, but it was somehow known to the kid that told me abt it.

(Some ppl thought it was familiar but still didnt know what it was)

Do u know what im talking abt? Hopefully u do

-🥚

GHFJDK so the monster in this is kind of based off the nekomata spirit in japanese folklore - they can appear like people, torment victims by reanimating the corpses of their loved ones, they’ve been blamed for forest fires, so it was just fun to use that as a basis and then go buck wild haha. anyway thanks for the ask bby!

Rest In Peace Kohsuke, you would’ve loved Haikyuu season 5😔✊– @joyvstheworld

poor kohsuke deserved better, i’m just mean to the oc’s i throw into fics haha

Monsterfucking ❤❤❤❤❤❤ a little annoyed you're making me simp for yan Kuroo though (a vibe tho tbh). You're so extremely talented!!!! &

This is probably a stupid question, but how did Kageyama react when he couldn't find y/n? How is life with yan Suga? I imagine probably awful BUT yknow maybe the stockholm syndrome set in fast lmao. Sorry, I'm going on a binge reading your stuff. - @oracleofdin

i will not apologise for making you simp for kuroo he deserves it the man’s a snacc. and as far as your second question, suga’s a very caring, very smothering kinda yandere, so i guess in some ways it’s better than what the reader had with kageyama but... pick your poison haha

That was so good. I’m so shook rn I can’t comprehend anything but how good that was and how good a writer you are

TYSM NONNIE!!! <33

Ok, so, I just read Final Girl and the lil' ticket addition to it and just---

Well, ok I've been playing Dead by Daylight a lot lately? And I'm just picturing Tetsu as the newest killer "The Trickster" and I'm positively RANDY.

Your writing is ALREADY thirst inducing and just as satisfying, but this has SENT ME- If you're not familiar, please...

https://youtu.be/iowkiPobYYQ

Understand my thirst. (I'd also like to clarify, I use a different skin for him that gives him black hair and he looks like Kuroo with an undercut.)

~ @the-casual-hedonist 🌸

i love how feral y’all got for final girl kuroo. like bo and akaashi had his fans, but i put a spiked bat in kuroo’s hands and y’all lost your goddamn minds and i love to see it. fghdjkvhfjdkls thanks for the ask bby

idk why but I love preggo reader as long as I don't pretend it's me 😢✋ I hate babies n pregnancy anywhere else other than horny haikyuu fics

i think that’s a valid thing for a lot of fans. the idea of breeding is sexy, the actual getting pregnant and having a kid thing... not so much. but especially with non-con scenario’s, it’s more about the aspect on control than the actual desire to have kids. but yeah, i feel you

Sorry to bother but uh was just wondering in fracture did Osamu kill his wife or was it actually an “unfortunate event” ? Love your work btw!!

he most certainly did :))

LMFAO RHI i totally get not liking cheating/infidelity fics (towards reader) bc IT HIRTS ME SO BAD I CANNOT HANDLE THOSE.

id be reading fics those fics like: tf you mean my yandere aimt gonna baby me and only want me??🤨🤨🤨⁉️‼️

EXACTLY! listen i get that it’s a fucked up fantasy, but in my fucked up fantasy you damn well better have the decency to be loyal smh

Finders keepers is the most beautiful thing I've read by you: I read it twice like I normally do and here's what I figured out the second time (that's when I analyze it and find the little tidbits of things that are much darker than they appear (: )

To start I LOVE THE DETAILS OF THEM NEVER TEACHING READER ANYTHING- at first I assumed "oh they might see her as a little sister or child or something" but realized thAT WAS THE ISSUE!! they infantilize her and isolate her from everyone but her group. the small details like that are what make the story amazing 😎💅

ahh thank you so much, nonnie!! pls this is making me soft 🥺

I just wanted to stop by and say that I love your writing and I hope you're doing well!!! Drink plenty of water and keep up the amazing work :) but seriously you're one of the best fanfic writers I've seen on tumblr! I read your "Imitation" piece about kuroo and i keep coming back to it, it's so good! I did want to ask if you think it'd be possible for the reader to ever escape with the baby (or at least attempt to). Or if Kenma would "help" at all just to put an end to kuroo's antics lmao

kenma would in no way help the reader, and tbh by that point if kuroo did get her pregnant, she’d be far too emotionally dependant on him to actually even want to leave, but thanks for the ask!

You know who I think would be a perfect Yandere in the JJK world? Choso.

🚨Spoilers Ahead🚨

After being locked in a glass jar for however long he was, and all that happened with his brothers, I feel like he would absolutely never let his darling out of his sight. He would be possessive. Obsessive. And Oh So delusional. Sure he’d be your anything - he truly is a softy - but to what end?🤤

choso would make an excellent yandere, ngl 😌

what au/troupe of your fav character(s) that you have written do you like the most?

(rlly hope this makes sense🙏)

i am always a slut for soulmate au’s :))

#ask #anon #rhi answers #ohh so many asks #i love you guys <33 #fic q's

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efyra · 3 years

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EEEK I WAS SO EXCITED TO JOIN UR CELEBRATION i knew it wouldnt be long til u post it🦋

can i get 🌷 im a female she/her, ravenclaw, im easily bored n a perfectionist idk if being easily bored is a personality or not lol facts abt me: im using a baby towel as my towel, im using a baby lotion, i love to collect anything that has simba from the lion king in it bcs my fav animal is lion n my fav movie is the lion king n i like to bake😋 ship me w whoever give me the wildcard!

i wrote 4 facts hshdhshs but i hope thats okay congratulations again my love😘

my sweet naila 🥺 thank you, my popcorn 🍿i really hope you like it!

✨ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝟓𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✨

and because i know you, i ship you with...

draco malfoy

Hakuna Matata?

note: just an alternate universe where draco doesn’t become a death eater

On a spring afternoon, Draco told you:

"You're wrong, you know?"

Your eyebrow arched. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it's true" he chuckled.

"Draco" you turn your body so you can face your Slytherin boyfriend "I'm sure we spoke for the first time in Hogsmeade."

"You're wrong" he repeated, still with a presumptuous and funny tone.

You huffed. "So, will you tell me when we first spoke?"

"Professor Slughorn had just passed us an assignment on Everlasting Elixirs..." Draco smothered a laugh when he saw your eyes widen.

"Oh no..."

"Oh yes"

And in fact, Draco was right.

The first time you spoke was after a Potions class during your sixth year. You had stayed in the classroom to ask some questions to Professor Slughorn about the assignment you were supposed to do, and for this reason, you were late for your next class.

You ran down the corridors to get to the Charms classroom, but you always were a little clumsy and stumbled on your own feet. For your luck - very lucky - you find something to hold on to: the platinum blond boy's robes in front of you.

Draco is pulled back when he feels something grabbing on his Slytherin robe. "Hey, be more careful" he said angry and when he turned to find out who had dared to do such a thing, he sees you and, for a moment, he is lacking of words.

The Slytherin boy kinda knows you.

"The Ravenclaw girl that smells like baby lotion and vanilla. What is her name...?"

But he didn’t have time to ask you anything because the second you two run into each other, you start saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." and quickly pick up your stuff that fell to the ground before running back to your next class.

He realized that you missed your quill. Unwittingly, Draco opened a smile and picked up the object, keeping it in his pocket.

"You stole my quill!" you exclaimed, pointing a finger in the direction of your boyfriend. "I've been looking for it for days!"

"In my defense, I wanted to give it back to you," Draco explains, "but you always ran away from me.

Once again, he was right: you, in fact, tried your best to avoid any contact with Slytherin boy; this was because you were aware of his arrogant fame and didn't want to hear any unpleasant words, but this never happened.

"Here" Draco extends to you the quill.

A surprised look appears on your face when you take the familiar object in your hands. "Have you kept it all this time?" you ask with curiosity.

He shrugs. "I was waiting for an opportunity to give it back to you, but..."

"But?" you insist.

"We met at Three Broomsticks... so I decided to keep it to myself."

Months after that first "conversation", you and Draco met again.

You were entering the pub at the same instant he was leaving; and for the second time, you bumped into each other.

"Can you tell me if this will become an annoying habit?" the blond asked in irritation.

But you ignored him completely, your neck rising up and looking around the place, searching for something; apparently your friends hadn't finished their shopping at Honeydukes yet.

Draco snapped his fingers in front of you, catching your attention - hating to be ignored.

"Ah" you gasped, remembering the Slytherin boy’s presence "I'm sorry, I thought I was late and...".

"Is that why you're still wearing a towel?" he questioned amusingly, pointing towards your neck.

To your horror, you still carried your Lion King towel over your shoulders and thought you would regret for all eternity to embarrass yourself in front of Draco freaking Malfoy, but fate had a funny way of executing its plans.

"But what's this weird thing?" was the question that started your relationship with Draco.

The second time you talked was much longer than the first; you sat at a table at Three Broomsticks and drank butterbeer while you told Slytherin boy the story of Simba.

Draco hadn't found the story super interesting, but he had definitely loved being able to feel your baby lotion and vanilla perfume more. He had loved to hear the sound of your voice. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off you while you made exaggerated gestures with your hands trying to describe scenes from the children's movie - he thought you looked beautiful, very beautiful.

You said goodbye to each other when your friends showed up next to your table holding Honeydukes' bags. And you thought you would never talk to Draco Malfoy again, but you were wrong, because, that night, he went to sleep thinking about you.

The third time you talked was the next day when Draco kicked out your partner from Potions to sit next to you. Professor Slughorn couldn't care less about the exchange of partners and gave you an assignment to do in pairs.

As you continued talking with him, you realized that the blond Slytherin boy might not be so unpleasant.

The first time your heart beat faster when you were in Draco's presence was when he held your hand when you were about to add an ingredient to the potion you should prepare together.

"Silly girl" he had said with a smile "you have to prick it first.

Then, one afternoon you were in Hogwarts library, researching in several books what you could include in the Potions report that you should write in pairs.

"We should put this" Draco pointed to a line on the book's page.

It took you a few seconds to read what was written and you shook your head. "No, no."

"Why not?" The blond frowned.

"Because it's too obvious!" you huffed. "I bet everyone will write the same thing."

"Maybe because it's right?" he said almost incredulous.

"Writing something right, but still different is what will make us stand out," you winked.

And it was on that day that Draco Malfoy realized that he might be in love with you.

Your first kiss was a few days before the end of the school year, after a hard exams period, you were sharing a couch on Slytherin's common room and a chocolate frog.

"I got dirty?" you asked after licking the chocolate leftovers from your fingers, turning to Draco. Unconsciously, you tilted your head to the side and your lips curved up in a little smile - at that moment, Draco thought you had never looked so cute, but at the same time, so irresistible.

Without answering your question, he brought his face close to yours, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss.

You and Draco were together, but you were not dating.

During the summer, you exchanged letters almost every day. You had gotten used to Draco's presence, it was weird not being with him.

When September arrived again, you didn't waste any time and got in the train, looking for the platinum blond who occupied your thoughts the whole time, but it was him who found you.

You two shared a cabin - and nobody dared to join you.

"Ah" you extended a bag that you were carrying in Draco's direction "this is for you".

The Slytherin boy looked at you surprised - and a little terrified.

"Is that a gift? I didn't even buy her a gift... did I have to buy a gift? Will she be upset? What if she...", but his thoughts were interrupted when you said, "It's just some cookies. I promise it's not poison or anything" with a playful smile on your face.

Draco didn't know you could bake, but he was pleasantly surprised to find out - especially since your cookie was delicious.

And that was the day he was sure that he fell in love with you.

He asked you to be his girlfriend on a Christmas morning in Hogwarts right after giving you a nice necklace as a gift.

And since then, you had brought Draco a joy he had never felt before - and which he never thought he could feel.

Your favorite pastime was to go to Three Broomsticks and drink butterbeer together while you talked about the most diverse subjects.

And Draco still loved to hear you talking about Lion King.

That same spring afternoon, you and Draco were in Slytherin's common room; he was sitting on an armchair and you were on his lap.

"You know, I still think you should watch Lion King with me," you say, your fingers brushing through your boyfriend's platinum blond wires.

"I rather hearing you telling the story to me" Draco answers with a smile, giving a kiss in the corner of your mouth. "Besides, we need to finish that Potions assignment."

"Oh no, let's stay like this a little bit longer."

"But that's for two days from now."

"Hakuna Matata, Draco. Hakuna Matata."

"Hakuna Matata?"

#efyra’s 500 followers celebration #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x you #500fcwefyra

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

Text

heard your name in every love song {Ben Hardy} 1

1. when he was looking out for me (i would pretend he was my summer fling)

Summary: When you’re twelve and you have a crush on your babysitter, your parents think it’s puppy love, think it’s cute, and you’ll forget about it soon enough.

A/N: 2266 words. Female!Reader. okay so the sprained ankle in Space Jump is a direct reference to something that happened in my theater class, that being a dude snapped his fucking femur playing Fruit Salad. RIP adam’s femur for the following few months. he’s fine now, that was like 8 years ago. whatever. are all these theater games i mention real? i’ll never tell. here’s part 1. DISCLAIMER: NO CREEPY SHIT I SWEAR TO GOD I WOULDN’T DO THAT; THERE’S A LITTLE BIT OF PINING FROM Y/N BUT THAT’S IT. there’s a few assumptions made abt Y/N’s life; only child, parents (plural, idk how many, doesn’t matter), plays Crash Bandicoot and Mario Kart, takes theater classes outside of school.

the mutant brotherhood: @daisy-lu @hervoidparadise @nedmjpeter @ultrunning @d-r-e-a-m-catchme @clementimee @that-fandom-sucks-tho @cjand10 @rest-is-detail @baileymae @rosesvioletshardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod @hazelstyles94 @bitchylittleredhead @bihemian-rhapsody @sweatyexpertgardenpanda @whereeverythingisbetter @dedxbed @xxencagedxx @glittrixvibe @a-girl-with-stress @sunflower-ben @pxroxide-prinxcesss @mrsmazzello @cubedtriangle @haileymorelikestupid @misscharlottelee @nevilles-insinuations @jovialcreatorkidtoad @brianmaysclog @sambuckywarrior @hey-yo-bedussey @bubblyanis @lifesciencesbois @elektraofcrete @diosanaz @bbdoyouloveme @kirstansworld @okilover02 @cardboardbenmazzello @dreashappyworld @juliarose21 @simonedk @greycuby @emmasunshiine @dinotje @qtrogerina @spiketacus @nympha-door-a @local-troubled-writer @emphatic-af @wh0a-thisisheavy @lustgardn @banginashton

When you’re twelve, and almost at the end of your first year of high school, you get into a fight with your parents as to whether or not you still need a babysitter. Much to your chagrin, however, they don’t see twelve as ‘practically sixteen, which is practically an adult’ and you sulk for the full three days leading up to the night they were going out. The night of, you’re fully intending on staying in your room, until there’s a knock at the door, and you hear a voice that is absolutely not your usual babysitter.

“Be good,” your parents call to you as they’re leaving, having noticed where you’d cracked the door to your room to see who it was. You make a face at them, but you’re surprised to see a kid from Sixth Form on crutches, who is absolutely not Madeline, standing in the hallway awkwardly. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him around school, maybe he’s on the soccer team? You’re not sure.

“You’re not Maddy,” you tell him, opening the door a little wider, and he seems surprised for a moment to see you there. A kind, awkward smile appears on his face as he regards you with gentle amusement.

“Well spotted, I’m Ben, Maddy’s got the flu,” he explained easily, and offered his hand, “you’re Y/N, right?” And he’s trying so hard, but you’re still kind of mad at your parents for insisting on a babysitter in the first place.

“Who else would I be?” You asked flatly, which surprised a laugh from Ben, but you shook his hand anyways; you had to give him props for trying, “why are you using crutches?” You asked outright, since you’re pretty sure he wasn’t using crutches last time you saw him at school. You turned, heading for the living room, deciding to at least give him a chance.

“Sprained my ankle in class the other week,” he explained, hobbling along behind you.

“Sport or just P.E?” You asked, throwing yourself onto the sofa and picking up the TV remote. Ben was quiet for a long moment, and when you look at where he’s sitting gingerly on the edge of the sofa, he’s making a face like he doesn’t quite want to admit the truth.

“Theater sports,” he explained, which piqued your interest, which, of course, you try not to let show on your face, because if your babysitter knows you already think he’s cool, you might die of embarrassment. But also, you suddenly feel incredibly validated for taking those theater classes every Thursday afternoon.

“They’re -” he tries to explain, but you give another eye roll.

“I know what theater sports are,” you tell him, and his smile turns amused.

“You do?” He asks, and you think he might be a little bit impressed, or perhaps it was just wishful thinking, either way, you nod firmly, “well I was in the middle of Space Jump - you know Space Jump, right? Where you start an activity and then someone else calls ‘Space Jump’ and you have to freeze and they have to make a new scene from your freeze, and then someone else comes in -” he explained, mostly to save you the embarrassment of admitting you didn’t know the game, “well I was up on one leg on a chair, climbing the rigging of a ship, you know how pirates do, and I froze, and -” he gestured how he’d fallen off the chair, with accompanying sound effects.

“Couldn’t you have just put your other foot down and balanced yourself?” You offered, and he shook his head, expression adamant.

“It’s all about the commitment to the bit; I was trying to entertain them, and the best way I can do that is to put myself out there one-hundred percent,” he told you sincerely, “you’ve always gotta follow through.”

“You sprained your ankle,” you pointed out, “isn’t that dangerous advice?” He deflates a little, looking down at his leg.

“Follow through but use your common sense, you’ve got common sense, don’t you?” He asked, giving a wry smile, two which you nodded diligently, “don’t get yourself hurt, then,” he suggests, before changing the subject quickly, “you hungry yet? Your parents said we could order pizza.” You’re easily excited by the thought of pizza, a rare treat your parents allowed you whenever you were babysat.

It’s a pretty uneventful night, all things considered, you order pizza, and he lets you win at Crash Team Racing, and you’re falling asleep to a comedy movie until Ben gently suggests that you go to bed. You’re too tired to argue and try and weasel your way into staying up later, so you yawn loudly and wish him a good night before shuffling off to bed. The house is quiet, apart from where he’s watching a Top Gear rerun and waiting for your parents to get home.

You don’t think about it much beyond telling your parents ‘yeah, he’s pretty cool’ when they ask. You don’t think about him much beyond that, at least not for almost a full week, until you’re sitting in your geography class just before lunch, having managed to snag a seat by the window looking out onto the back field, and there’s a PE class doing laps on the field. All are running, except the teacher, and a boy with blonde hair, standing with all his weight on one foot, and a pair of crutches tossed to the side, looking like he’s arguing the teacher.

“I heard when you’re in sixth form you get to push in the front of the line at the canteen,” you hear your friend, Merissa, next to you muse, and when you turn, she’s followed your gaze outside to the field. After a moment, you turn again, and watch the blonde attempt to put weight on his obviously injured foot; it looks like he regrets it, and he sits on the grass, sulking.

“That’s probably Ben,” Merissa tells you matter-of-factly, “he’s on the football team with my brother.” And something about the kind of unwarranted pride in her voice at being in the know makes your face scrunch up. Part of you wants to tell her that you know who Ben is, obviously, but another part of you doesn’t want to admit to still needing a babysitter; it feels childish. So you keep your mouth shut and turn to back to the board.

And the following week, in your weekly theater class, you’re about to take your turn at Bus Stop, wherein your goal is to make the other person on the ‘bus stop’ as uncomfortable as possible until they finally leave, which is when you’ll assume the roll of the innocent bystander, and someone else from the class will come up and try and make you uncomfortable. It’s a lesson on improvisation disguised as a game.

The voice you’ve been practicing slightly pinches your vocal cords, and you’ve barely got a moment to assume a matching physicality, and you worry for a second that it’s not funny, that you’ll just look like an idiot -

Put yourself out there one hundred percent.

You steel yourself, making strange shapes with your hands as you twist yourself into as much of a creature as possible, within reason, using the strange voice you’d concocted, feeling a thrill as your entrance gets the biggest laugh of the class. Oh.

A few months later, in the Summer after your first year of high school, you’re finally thirteen, and are allowed to have the house to yourself for the day, but if you’re parents are anticipating staying out later than midnight, you need -

“Please,” you begged, “just don’t say babysitter, I’m not a baby.”

“Fine,” they acquiesce, “you need supervision, just if we’re out very late.”

Despite your indignation at the situation, Maddy’s got a cello concert, and you’re hoping that that means -

Ben greets you like a friend, wearing a denim jacket with no crutches, and he might be the coolest person you know.

“You still on Crash Team Racing?” He asks with raised eyebrows as he heads into the living room, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s so old school,” you scoff, and he raises his hands in surrender, trying not to look as amused as he feels, watching as you pull out two Wii remotes, “Mario Kart’s much better.” And you hand him one.

He’s not above letting you win, but it turns out, he doesn’t have to; you’re scarily good at the game, which you credit to playing pretty much nothing else for a solid month, and by the time the pizza arrives, the win ratio is about fifty-fifty, and you’ve bonded considerably over your mutual and unreasonable hatred for Waluigi, the only NPC who seems to consistently beat you both.

“Do you get to push in the front of the line at the canteen?” You asked, holding your pizza in one hand and letting it cool for a moment.

“Huh?” Ben’s burnt the roof of his mouth, and is reaching for his drink when you ask, “whaddya mean?”

“My friend Merissa says Sixth Form gets to push in the front of the line.”

“I don’t think we’re technically allowed to,” he says after a moment of consideration, and you hear his nonverbal ‘but we still do’ anyways, “it’s not a rule rule, you know?”

“Are the A-levels hard?”

“Haven’t done ‘em yet,” he answers honestly, burping quietly after taking a drink, and you hum, and take a bite of pizza.

“I’m already scared of my GCSEs,” you admit after a moment of chewing, and Ben laughs gently.

“You’ve got nothing to be afraid of,” and he sounds like he means it, so you can’t help but believe it, soothed a little in your premature worrying. To be fair, Ben could say anything about school or life and you’d probably believe it; he was cool and older than you, but he treated you like a friend.

You mention in passing that you’d gotten the lead for your class’s skit in the end of year showcase your theater company puts on, and mentions that it’s because you’d been committing to the bit in class, and the pride in his voice when he congratulates you is something you end up thinking about for days.

He ends up babysitting you twice more that Summer, not that you were complaining. It meant you got pizza, and to hang out with the coolest person you knew, a fact which you reiterated to your parents, much to their fond amusement, though you made them swear to never tell Ben that. He brought over Super Smash Bros and you guys would play for hours.

The only problem was that Ben was never allowed to know about the crush you had on him, because everyone in the world knew it was weird to have a crush on your babysitter, and you’re pretty sure he has a girlfriend and -

Doesn’t matter. You’re just started to discover the delightful world of crushes and relationships, and Merissa has a boyfriend on Tumblr, and you know that when you get back to school you can have a normal crush on a normal boy in your year, even if all the boys in your year look like thumbs. And Ben...

Is your babysitter. And a decent guy. And your friend, sort of. So you just hope he hasn’t noticed.

After Summer, he’s studying his A-levels, and Maddy’s got a day job so she can babysit at nights again, and it feels like everything’s gone back to normal, like you can breathe again.

You’ve never really seen him at school; you don’t tend to hang around the back fields, but a few weeks into the first term, you’re having lunch with Merissa and Charlie, one of your other friends, in the library, when you spot him laden down with textbooks, making his way to one of the study rooms at the back. You’re not sure if he’ll even acknowledge you, even though your table is directly along the best route to the back rooms, so you just give him and smile and a nod in greeting.

“Hey, Y/N,” he grins quickly, doesn’t stop, but nods in return, and your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest. Charlie sinks her nails into your arm the moment he’s gone into the study room, and Merissa quietly screeches your name.

“Chill out,” you’re trying to keep a low profile, but both other thirteen year old girls are demanding to know what just happened, “we’re friends.” You say with a shrug that’s far too casual.

“Friends?!” Merissa demands, and you can feel yourself growing more flustered.

“We hung out a few times during summer,” you open your notebook in front of you, trying to distract yourself.

“You hung out with Ben? Y/N he’s a football guy, he’s so old, he’s like eighteen!”

“We’re friends,” you insist, “don’t be, like, creepy about it,” you snorted, and Charlie let out a pterodactyl-like noise. They drop it at your insistence, and you’re just glad they don’t ask you to elaborate.

You don’t see Ben much after that anymore, he’s too busy with his A-levels to babysit, and when you’re fourteen, your parents agree that you don’t need a babysitter anymore. You’re more than happy to let your Summer crush fall to the wayside, and let your memories of Ben, like all good Summer memories, fade into blurry obscurity.

You wouldn’t need to worry about seeing him again anyways, right?

Oh how wrong you were.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #borhap #queen #borhap cast #borhap cast imagine #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast imagine #the angry lizard writes

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cottage-babe · 4 years

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Burning Scars part VIII

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Masterlist

Awww im watching LOK and why do people hate it so much?? I get that its different than ATLA but on it’s own its pretty good. anyways they just talked abt the first avatar and hmm, i didn’t really think abt who the first would be

Summary: Y/n, a werewolf from a hidden village, comes across Zuko and Iroh after being exiled. How has fate intertwined the wolf into the avatar’s destiny?

*****This chapter takes place on Season 2, Episode 14*****

___

It's been a week since they'd made it to the beloved city of Ba Sing Se.

It was rough at first; they learned about the sections of the city and had to find a home in the Lower Ring. Although Zuko hated the city, Y/n found it quite beautiful. Of course, some parts of it weren't flattering, there were dirty animals around and some of their neighbors weren't the nicest, but there was something mystical about it.

Maybe it's because it's the first city she'd been in or the fact that the culture was so different, but she couldn't find it in herself to hate anything in Ba Sing Se. The crowded streets just seemed cozier and full of life; their run-down home above a shop just had personality! The wolf couldn't help but love even the worst parts.

The only thing that couldn't ease itself out of Y/n's mind was the feeling of being watched. It sent shivers down her spine whenever she was out in public and she thinks she knows why they're staring.

It's the scar on her leg, of course.

She stopped covering it up the day they came to the city. Something about having to hide it for their entire time of residence just seemed so inauthentic. If she was going to be here for a while, then Y/n was going to be her truest self, scars and all.

They were walking through the marketplace, buying the last remaining essentials that they needed for their new place. Iroh had wandered off somewhere when his eyes set on a furniture store, but Zuko, not wanting to accept the fact that they were actually living there, just stormed off angrily in the opposite direction. Y/n followed the teen to make sure he didn't do something he’d regret.

“You know,” the wolf began, “this city isn’t that bad when you stop judging everything about it.”

He glared at her harshly. “I’m not judging it.” Then, Iroh appeared next to him, the pot of orange flowers he was eyeing in his hands. The boy’s stare somehow got meaner as he looked at the bright flowers. “This city is a prison.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and moved to stand in between her two friends, smelling the ends of the flowers and letting the aroma surround her. There was hardly any nature here, another thing that she had to look past, so seeing any sign of greenery was welcoming.

“They’re so pretty!” Y/n smiled at Iroh.

“I know,” the uncle smiled back at her, “they were a little expensive, but its fine because I found us new jobs, and we start this afternoon!”

Zuko and Y/n blinked at him in surprise. Neither teens had ever had a job before, much less one that they were thrown into without a warning. So they all traveled back to their apartment and left the things that they had bought that morning. The time to go to their new ‘jobs’ was approaching, so they made themselves presentable and set off.

Iroh had, of course, gotten them a job at a small tea shop. When they entered, it was nearly empty, except for the man that introduced himself as their boss.

The people in Ba Sing Se probably only drink their tea in the mornings! That must be why it’s so empty!

It turns out she was wrong.

After doing their introductions, the owner, whose name turned out to be Pao, left to the back room so he could find a string to extend the back of Iroh’s apron. He left them three cups of tea while they waited.

Y/n took a sip from her steaming cup, happy to be offered some tea that’s actually warm. Unfortunately, just as it had happened before, the tea was spit out onto the floor.

“Ugh!” She exclaimed. “What’s wrong with all of the tea in this city!”

Iroh took a sip, but, with way more control than her, swallowed it quickly. He looked at his cup disgustingly. “This tea is nothing more than hot leaf juice!”

Zuko deadpanned and looked between the two, “Uncle, that’s what all tea is.”

Suddenly, right there in the moment, a long shiver reached Y/n’s spine and spread throughout her body. And it definitely wasn’t the tea. The werewolf tugged on Zuko’s sleeve.

“Someone’s watching us.” She whispered and cast her eyes around.

She had been feeling this, how could she be so stupid? She misjudged it and thought the attention was on her leg, but now? They were in a completely empty shop and she could hear Pao digging through boxes in the other room. Someone is looking at them from the outside.

The boy looked around cautiously as well. “From where?”

“I don’t know.”

Iroh was talking while they whispered, something about needing to make some major changes in this shop. He threw the tea pot out a window and the feeling drained from the wolf. Y/n sighed in relief.

“They stopped, maybe it was just someone passing.”

Zuko hummed, but still looked at her curiously.

Pao came back with the string and helped Iroh tie his apron on. Once all three of them were in their attire, the man trained them on their new job; waiters and waitresses. They learned the basics of their job; collect orders, give customers their cups, then collect the cups. It was a lot simpler than she thought it would be. They barely had any customers, but the few that did come sat quietly and didn’t really disturb them.

Then, their shifts ended and they turned in their aprons. When they left the shop, the sun had already set and the sky was dark.

The citizens had lit lanterns to glow on the street. It was quite pretty to see the contrasts; it almost reminded her of the rebellious times with her siblings. Y/n pushed that thought out of her head, though.

The entire walk back home was filled with Iroh’s complaints on the tea. He started talking about how starting tomorrow, he was going to tell Pao that he was going to make the tea. He thought that Pao’s tea was lacking and Iroh was going to fix that. Zuko let out a few sarcastic comments here and there, but Y/n was quiet. She was focused on the roof tops, the dark alleys; any place where someone could be hiding. Just in case, of course.

Then, they made it home. The apartment was empty and Iroh lit candles with matches so they could see. He probably would’ve used his bending, but Zuko had warned him many times against using it. The boy was so paranoid.

As soon as Y/n entered though, she smelled something off.

She never mentioned this to the boys (in fear that it would freak them out), but the wolf had memorized their scents. Each had a distinct smell and it had grown very mixed and strong throughout their week of living here. It was another werewolf thing that transferred to her human skin.

But what she was smelling now definitely wasn’t one of them.

It smelled strangely familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The scent was so minute and faint that it eventually blended away into the other smells.

Well, that’s weird.

So they all settled down to relax, tired from the day’s work. Y/n laid on the bed by the windows and Iroh went straight for the teapot.

“Would you both like a cup of tea?”

“We’ve been working in a tea shop all day!” Zuko groaned out. “I’m sick of tea!”

Y/n laughed at his antics and watched as the boy sat at the foot of the bed. This wasn’t her bed; the boys decided that the one room in the apartment should belong to the only girl. She wasn’t totally against getting her own privacy, but she still felt incredibly spoiled.

Zuko lifted her feet and moved back against the wall, placing her legs in his lap. The werewolf blushed at his intimate touches, but just looked off at Iroh and stated that she would like a cup, just to try and ignore her feelings. Y/n had decided before that she would never fall for Zuko, ever.

“Sick of tea? That’s like being sick of breathing!” Iroh looked over at the two and smiled softly before searching through the cabinets. “Have you seen the spark rocks to heat up the water?”

Y/n shook her head. “No. Do you want me to go ask the neighbors for some?”

She almost began to stand up, but the old man quickly declined her offer.

“No, no. You stay there.” He smiled, “I’ll go ask.”

Iroh walked out the front door, leaving Y/n and Zuko alone. They were silent for a moment before, surprisingly, the boy broke it.

“So,” he began. “What was up with earlier?”

She knew what he was talking about; how she could sense that someone was watching them. She didn’t really have much of an answer, so she tried to explain it the best she could.

“I don’t know... it’s just a feeling I get sometimes. Most of the time it’s just random people looking for no reason, so I ignore it. But it felt a little different today; it was weird.”

Zuko nodded and started playing with the fabric of her socks. The light touches tickled her slightly.

“Can you always feel it? When someone’s looking at you, I mean.”

“Well yeah,” she spoke. “But it’s feels different when I’m in danger or when it’s about nothing. I don’t know how to describe it; it’s just a werewolf thing.”

Y/n covered her eyes with her arm, hoping to cover her warm face slightly. The pink in her cheeks never seemed to disappear when he sat next to her.

His fingers stopped moving and she was so so thankful for that. The poor girl didn’t know how much she could take.

“And now?” Zuko whispered, “What does it feel like now?”

Y/n removed the arm from her face and met his auburn eyes, the iris’s staring deep into her.

Spirits, how was she supposed to describe this feeling?

Everything about Y/n, her hearing, her smelling, her brain, it was all muddle with him. Was this danger she felt? Or something else? Her senses didn’t seem to work; the scent of him just overcame ever-.

“I borrowed from our neighbors!” Iroh happily spoke as he waltzed into the room. “Such kind people!”

Y/n cleared her throat and sat up, removing her feet from the boy’s lap. She almost shook her head to wipe the fogginess from her brain. Iroh looked between the two teens, wondering if he should say something, but instead turned toward the wood under the teapot and used the rocks to light it.

Y/n and Zuko didn’t talk much more that night.

During the next few days, they set out to work in the early afternoon and made it back by nightfall, when the shop closed. Iroh had taken over the tea making; something Pao had fought against until he tasted the uncle’s delicious cup of tea. Slowly, more and more people started to fill up the tables, just waiting for the notorious cup. Y/n didn’t mind. It only meant that she’d see more faces and meet all kinds of people (she also got a lot of tip money, but that’s beside the point). Zuko, on the other hand, only saw it as more work.

“This is the best tea in the city!” One customer stated as he sipped Iroh’s tea.

Iroh smiled and held the pot up. “The secret ingredient...” He paused to waft the scent up into the air with his palm. “...is love.”

The uncle walked back to the main tea table where Pao was standing. Y/n bumped arms with Zuko, who had to quickly try and grasp the cups in his hands tightly so they wouldn’t fall.

“What’s with the face?” The werewolf smiled at him. “You know your Uncle is just having fun.”

The grimace from hearing Iroh’s ‘secret ingredient’ was still engraved on his face. “I know, but he’s having too much fun.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “You’re such a-”

The front doors of the tea shop burst open. Zuko instinctively dropped the porcelain cups and jumped in front of Y/n.

Standing in the doorway, Jet glared at Zuko menacingly.

“I’m tired of waiting! These two men are firebenders!” Then, Jet pointed at Y/n. “And she’s a werewolf!”

The lunatic boy unsheathed his two swords, right in the middle of the tea shop. Y/n’s eyes widened and she shared a look with her fellow waiters. How does he know?

Jet took a step closer to the trio. “I know what you are! I saw the old man heating his tea!”

“He works in a tea shop,” A random customer muttered bleakly.

“And I heard her say what she was one night in their apartment!”

Y/n gasped; so that’s why nothing seemed right. The smell, someone watching them; it all must’ve been Jet.

“Did you say you’re stalking her?” Two customers stood from their seats, both having a sword attached to their belts. They must be guards of some sort. “Drop your swords boy, nice and easy.”

However, Jet didn’t bother listening to them. “You'll have to defend yourself. Then everyone will know. Go ahead, show them what you can do.”

“You want a show? I’ll give you a show.” Zuko growled.

Y/n reached out to stop him, to tell him to let the police handle it, but the boy already walked toward one of the standing customers. Zuko grabbed their swords and clashed them against each other, signalling the start of the battle.

The werewolf ran toward Iroh and clung to his arm, scared of what was going to happen next. She shouldn’t interfere; she could get badly hurt from their swords and she shouldn’t reveal her identity. The safest bet would be to watch from afar and hope that Zuko made it out of this okay.

Zuko had kicked a table at Jet, but he sliced it in half and pushed it to the side. He charges at Zuko, who dodges the attack by jumping onto a nearby table.

Y/n sees a family near the side and runs over to grasp onto the mother’s hand. The woman looks at her in fear before relaxing. The werewolf slowly guides her and her children around the battle between the boys; using her instincts to guess their next moves. Eventually, they all make it outside and the mom lets out a shaky breath.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” The mother says in relief, her children clinging to her legs in fear.

“Your welcome, just try to get away before-”

She was interrupted by the thing she tried to mention; both boys jumping through the tea shop doors and out into the open street.

The family ran away to safety as Y/n turned to see what was happening. Iroh and the rest of the customers joined her to watch the outcome of the fight.

“Please, you’re confused! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Zuko’s Uncle shouted in an attempt to de-escalate the situation.

Instead, they just kept fighting.

They swung their swords at each other, never quite hitting, only getting close enough to be parried. The closest Zuko got to Jet was when he swung at his head, only for Jet to bend backward, the tip of the sword inches from his face. Jet jumped backward to a platform and stood on top of it.

“See that?” Jet yelled out to the audience that had formed. “The Fire Nation is trying to silence me! But that’ll never happen.”

Jet jumped back into the fight and they repeated a lot of what they were doing before. It was odd to Y/n, but it almost seemed like Zuko was... holding back? Jet’s techniques were good, but definitely not the best, so there’s no way Zuko could lose. Maybe he was just waiting until the crazy boy gave up.

Something that also stood out was the taboo around the Fire Nation. All of this was because her two friends were Firebenders? Why? After all of this cools down, she was definitely going to get some answers.

Iroh grabbed onto Y/n’s shoulder and gently steered her to the right. She looked to see why and saw two men with hats parting the group. They both were decked out in green and had a circle across their chest.

“Drop your weapons.” One stated authoritatively. They must’ve been some high-ranking police men.

Zuko and Jet stepped away from each other and lowered their swords. Still, however, Jet didn’t settle down.

“Arrest them!” He yelled. “Those two are Firebenders and she’s a Werewolf!”

Okay, this is getting a little annoying...

What’s so wrong with werewolves, anyway? These people don’t even think they’re real.

Y/n was pouting, she knows she was. Iroh looked at her with an amused look before returning to the scene.

“This boy is confused!” Iroh explained to the police. “We’re just simple refugees!”

He was playing a pretty convincing part, so Y/n decided to join in.

“Yeah, and he watched me while I was in the privacy of my own home!”

“This young man wrecked my tea shop, and assaulted my employees!” Pao defended from behind them.

One of the customers from before spoke out as well. “It's true, sir. We saw the whole thing. This crazy kid attacked the finest tea maker in the city.”

While Iroh blushed and thanked the man, the two police men walked up to Jet and arrested him. The boy struggled at first, but they put him in handcuffs to still his movements. They took him away and the crowd slowly dispersed.

There were so many people walking around that Y/n didn’t see Zuko at first. She left go of Iroh to pushed past the group toward the spot he was before, but came up empty handed. Then she looked off to the side and saw him as he returned his two swords to the customers that he took it from.

“Zu- err, Lee!”

Zuko turned around confused, but let out a small ‘oof’ as Y/n jumped at him and wrapped him in a tight hug. He couldn’t even process what was happening before she mumbling into his chest. Y/n didn’t even fully understand what she was saying; only snippets of how worried she was peeked through.

Her mind was jumbled again, just as it had been a couple nights ago. After Jet had gotten arrested, the reality of it all set into her. Jet had actually followed them for who knows how long, listening to every conversation and watching every movement they took. Iroh and Zuko were in real trouble for a moment; she didn’t know why Fire Benders were so bad, but it was enough to get arrested for. And then her... what if she had been alone? Would Jet have ambushed her? Would she have defended herself? What about Iroh; would he? Would Zuko, if there was no weapons around?

Everything was so complicated, so overwhelming, that she didn’t even know that she was crying. It wasn’t until Zuko wrapped her arms around her that she became aware of her surrounding and felt the wetness on her face.

And so they just stood for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms as the girl’s sobs rang out into the night.

___

Previous | Chapter 8 | Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @bucky-blogs @hopefuloperaangelnerd @simplyfandomish @oddlypointlessescapes @lozzybowe @woohoney @whalerus @cece-lives-here @bwndito @kiaoizz @lrmilikepie

#zuko #zuko x reader #atla #lok

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phanlight · 3 years

Text

Imagine Living Like A King Someday

prompt: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).

[CHAPTER MASTERPOST]

theres something so funny to me abt having written all of this over a matter of months and then picking it up 4 entire years later like nothing happened

still thinking of the enormous steaming mess past left future me to clear up in terms of plot but i think we're finally there THANKS 2016 SHELLEY

[AO3 LINK]

Twenty-Three (fINALLY)

By far the best thing about this job, Dan decides, is the Thursday afternoons. They allow for a lull in the week, a window wherein Phil is enveloped in a research project and Noah equally as swallowed up in rehearsals. December being only a breath away had made for a sudden increase in workload for both of them; it seems leaving the holiday season for an actual holiday is far too big an ask for the education system. Dan feels sorry for them. He remembers his burning resentment toward academic responsibilities; how much he’d loathed being made to study while the sky loses its light. He’d taken pity on the pair of them and stocked up on various study supplies – all edible and a few drinkable, much to their delight. He’d left them with all the Kit-Kats, Doritos and Jaffa Cakes they’d possibly be able to cram into a four-hour session. He’s becoming something of a mother figure, he giggles when he tells Lawrence.

There’s something about conversations with someone as wise as the head caretaker, the nicest boss he’s ever had, that jolts everything back into perspective again. Sometimes, when anxiety gnaws and every breath feels uneasy, the only thing that helps is a few words of wisdom. Of true compassion. And as caring and as gentle as Phil is, sometimes it’s worth listening to someone over triple his age; with triple his life experience.

And way over triple his collection of mugs. They stand in rows in a cabinet next to the desk, a glass door keeping them on proud display (there’s no way he doesn’t polish that regularly). He can’t count the teas they’ve had together, but he’s never had the same mug twice. It makes the overall experience just that little bit more enjoyable; a guaranteed smile no matter how bleak the day.

“Wallace, or Gromit?” is the first thing Lawrence says when Dan creaks open the door.

He frowns. Bit of an odd way to say hello, but he’s had weirder.

“Sorry?”

“If you had to pick?”

Dan chuckles, his frown melting away. Months of this place has made him warmly familiar with Lawrence’s eccentricities and quick-fire questions upon entering. The only one who works here with a personality, Phil often calls him, before quickly adding Below fifty, of course.

“Gromit,” he says decidedly. “He’s cute.”

“Gromit it is,” he whips around, presenting Dan with a steaming ceramic version of the dog, his left ear protruding into a handle.

“How did I not see that coming?” Dan chuckles, taking the mug and nearly burning his fingertips. “Thanks,” he sips a little too quickly. “Let me guess; you have a Wallace one too?”

“A-ha!” Lawrence spins around again holding with an identically sized mug, the other character still grinning despite having a head full of boiling hot liquid.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Dan grins, shaking his head in disbelief. He plops himself down on Lawrence’s enormous armchair, shifting a jacket off of the seat. Despite his repeated insistence that he really doesn’t mind and the stool looks really comfy, actually; Lawrence insists he takes his chair every single time he comes over.

‘It’s just lovely to have a chat with you, kid,’ he’d say. ‘I don’t get many visitors.’

The whole thing swamps Dan’s small frame, the upholstery devouring most of him, but the comfort is unbeatable. He could fall asleep here.

“Look at his nose! His- look at that! Hey- you’re missing it!”

Dan’s eyes dart around the room. “Wait- what?”

“The mug!” he urges.

Dan frowns, peering at the steaming Wallace. His grin looks like the taste of Brie.

“It’s-…” he squints. “Big?”

“Not mine you daft thing- yours!” he points.

“Mine?” Dan looks down. Gromit stares forward, his black button now a cherry red. “Oh!”

“Clever, that, ain’t it?” Lawrence enthuses, his eyes shimmering. “Must be a heat detector! I don’t know how they do it, these things,” he beams. “It’s like they’re finding something new every day.”

Dan’s heart glows. It would come as no surprise if he’d been waiting all week to show him that.

“I’ll keep an eye out for it next time,” Dan smiles, looking down. “I used to have a Pac-Man mug that did a similar thing, actually.”

“Pac-Man, eh?” Lawrence says as if it’s the eleventh Grand Theft Auto. “What used to happen? Did he do his little routine?”

“Not quite,” Dan giggles, assuming his ‘little routine’ constituted flying around a maze uncontrollably. “The ghosts just appeared. Nothing moved, though.”

“That’ll be the next step, I tell you,” Lawrence says. “Goodness knows what they’ll be able to do even one year from now. Come next Christmas you’ll be buying me a mug that can sing.”

Dan’s grin doesn’t stop. How someone so many times his age can still bear such child-like enthusiasm for the small things really is something treasurable. The gem of Southview, he decides as he takes another sip and studies the bottle opener collection beside him. Lawrence makes this job bearable. Worthwhile.

He doesn’t tell him such mugs actually exist; doesn’t let on the Cherusker stein is a particular favourite of his. The cabinet full of them was in fact possibly the only tolerable aspect of the May Fair experience; – he’d forever spend lounge duty dusting them, lifting every one and smiling as gentle lullabies spilled out until barked at to ‘stop wasting time’. He makes a mental note to make another addition to his Christmas shopping list. He’s certain Lawrence is aware of their existence, but he’s sure he wouldn’t be expecting to unwrap one only three weeks from now. Seeing those eyes crinkle with joy under years of laughter lines is a gift in itself.

He only realizes he’s smiling when Lawrence matches his grin.

“You’re at a funny age,” he sighs, clinking the spoon against the china. He places it on an Abbey Road coaster. “That’s what my mother used to say,” he pauses, forehead lined with thought. “Mind you, she’s been saying that at every age I’ve been,” there’s a silence. “Even now.”

Dan grins, imagining a woman twenty-odd years older but about a metre shorter. It warms his heart to hear she’s still with him, with them. Here.

“What does that say, eh?” he continues. “There’s never an age you’re going to look back and everything around you will have fallen into place. Never a moment you’ll dust off your hands and think ‘well, that was easy’. Because that isn’t life.”

The final sentence resounds all around the hemisphere of his consciousness. What absolute truth there is to be found in that.

This is precisely what he loves about his conversations with Lawrence. It isn’t just the tea. Not even the comfort both physical and emotional alike; the guarantee that whatever he confesses to doing won’t go any further than the office walls. It isn’t even the advice- which he’d go so far as to admit is more beneficial than Phil’s, at certain times (there’s just something about hearing it from someone who’s double their combined age).

It’s the lack of judgement. The listening ear. The only person he can truly guarantee is without a single trace of bias or underlying ulterior motive. The ‘I’ve experienced, lived, truly knocked down but bounced back every time’ tone that resonates through every pebble of advice, each wise word he gifts away.

And he feels safe, talking to him. He feels comfortable. It’s everything every single past job wasn’t, and even now, when Dan drags a scalding sip to his lips and listens to Lawrence’s stories, his pellets of wisdom and anecdote after anecdote involving life in the Sixties, he realizes he’s truly safe here. Happy, almost.

“How old is she? Your mother?” The question escapes his lips before he can exercise any control over what he’s asking. Shit, he hopes that wasn’t too personal. Not a lot of things are off-limits when it comes to conversations with Lawrence, but boundaries are still unclear.

Lawrence remains unfazed, his expression still thoughtfully soft.

“She’ll be ninety-eight this June.”

“Eighty-eight?” Dan frowns. He must have heard that wrong.

Lawrence points a finger to the ceiling. “Up ten.”

His jaw drops.

“Wow.”

“Yep,” Lawrence contradicts with a warm head nod. “She’s lived through a lot, has our Maggie.”

“I can imagine,” Dan breathes, leaning against the desk. His respective lifespan has already thrown enough in his direction. He can’t imagine what four times that would be.

“Lived through two world wars, bless her,” he sighs, his eyes studying the windowsill. “Lord alone knows what the woman must have witnessed,” his eyes flicker to Dan. “Then bringing up three kids on top of that,” he shakes his head, slurping the steam. “I don’t know how she does it. Still going strong, mind. She’s an angel.”

“Truly,” Dan sighs, his gaze leaning further and further out of the window. A crow comes to a soaring descent onto one of the branches, leaving a flutter of yellow leaves in its wake. If he narrows his eyes he can make out the very outline of a nest somewhere further in. “You’re lucky to have her,” he says before his thoughts can catch up.

Lawrence huffs out a chuckle. “You sound almost as old as I do, kid,” he hesitates. “Though you’re right. I am. I love her.” There’s a silence. “And I make sure I tell her every single day.”

Something tightens in the back of Dan’s throat. He blinks a couple of times, sipping carefully. “That’s lovely,” he mumbles into the mug, masking the crack he knew was going to appear in his voice.

“It’s important to say it as often as you can, you know,” he says, tearing open a box of Leibniz and giving Dan the first pick. They’re orange – his favourite. Last week’s rant over the white chocolate ones had clearly been taken on board. “However you say it. In whichever respect you mean it. You have to tell them how much they mean to you. You have to tell them you love them.”

A crumb goes down the wrong way.

“Careful, kid,” Lawrence gives him a firm thump on the back. Dan erupts into coughs, pausing to choke on his own breath a handful of times.

“You okay?”

It’s an amusing question given he’s a shade of scarlet and can only gasp in response, but he nods anyway, reaching for the tea.

All good, he mouths.

A couple of scalding sips later his lungs finally begin to recalibrate.

“Fuck-…” he huffs out a sigh. “I don’t know where that came from- I-…” he chokes again. “You’re right, though, about the-” another cough interrupts him.

“You’re meant to eat it, not inhale it,” Lawrence chuckles. “You donut. Here-“ he pulls out a drawer, scrabbling through loose sheets of kitchen roll and various CDs (without cases, much to Dan’s anxiety) before thrusting a half-opened packet of Soothers into his hand. “Finish them off, kid.”

“Oh, Lawrence,” Dan’s heart all but melts. “Thank you.”

He only takes one, but Lawrence insists he keeps them.

“Just in case you inhale your dinner tonight,” he chuckles, before adding, “Don’t you go choking on that, for God’s sake.”

“The irony of choking on a Soother,” Dan giggles. his speech a little indistinct. They’re a little on the sticky side but they still taste good. The peach ones have always been his favourite.

“Remember what I said,” he reminds him as Dan chews.

“Thank you,” he says again.

“Not at all, pet,” he smiles. “They need eating up.”

Dan chuckles. “I meant for the-…” he trails off when he spots the gleam in the older man’s eye. He doesn’t even need to finish his sentence to know he knows.

“It’s my pleasure. As long as I can be useful for something,” he raises his chipped mug to his lips as if it’s a champagne glass. “Always remember to give your energy to the right things. And the right people.”

Dan smiles, twining a loose thread around his pinkie. Another pellet of wisdom to come back to when he feels his mind darkening.

“I never used to be much good at that,” he admits. “The right people were always the wrong.”

“Ah, but never forget how far you’ve come,” Lawrence says. “You’re telling me things you wouldn’t have even been able to even think about months ago.”

Dan looks up. “Seriously?” Shit, he hadn’t even noticed.

“Would I be joking?” Lawrence simply says, furrowing a large silver eyebrow. Dan looks down at his tea, sipping carefully. It’s reached a perfect temperature, the liquid hugging his lips. “You tend not to be able to see your own progress, but others can. Others do,” he insists, grey eyes promising.

Dan feels like he’s going to cry.

“Thank you,” he breathes, disguising his mouth with the mug again.

“You don’t need to thank me, kid,” he chuckles.

“It’s unbelievably hard not to,” Dan admits, chuckling too. His eyes threaten tears but he can’t stop grinning.

“If anything, I should be thanking you,” he says.

Dan stares at him.

“Me? What for?”

“Oh, kid,” Lawrence sighs, his eyes glittering. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you. We’ve had some real characters in and out of here, I’m telling you – between you and me, and don’t even let this get to Phil, but-…” he shakes his head, his eyes following another crow headed in the same direction. He’s probably watching the same tree; Dan briefly thinks before he continues. “Some were okay,” he says almost as if to convince himself if anyone. “Mary, she was lovely. But some,” he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Look- I really shouldn’t be telling you this- Lord alone knows how unprofessional it is to be-“

“I wouldn’t worry,” Dan interjects, immediately apologizing for interrupting. “Workplaces harbor all manner of dark secrets. I’m sure a little venting about a couple of difficult colleagues doesn’t even come close.”

Lawrence chuckles, dusting biscuit crumbs off of the desk. “That I can’t argue with, kid,” he continues wiping, as if to process his next thought. “I’m not one to speak ill of people- of anyone, but-…’ he shakes his head. ‘You have no idea how much easier a time you give me, kid. It’s a joy to have you here,” he lowers his voice. “Some of them didn’t even turn up.”

Dan feels his face burn a little. Something warm floods through his veins. Shit, he’s never been told anything like that before. Never anything even remotely close. There’s also something particularly wholesome about Lawrence giving a recount of lousy employees like it’s a business-shattering affair, all hushed tones and closed doors.

“It’s great to be here,” he says quickly, his heart thumping. “It really is. It-…” he stops himself, interrupted by the abundance of possible phrases. Saved me, is the only one that adheres.

“I know,” Lawrence says before he can even open his mouth. He reaches forward and gives his knee a quick pat, and Dan wonders how such a small motion can harbour such reassurance. He doesn’t even need to finish his sentences he’s this understanding. “You’re a delight of an employee, I hope you realize,” he grins. “Everything you do is so appreciated here, kid. I ought to tell you that more often,” he pauses. “Sometimes the advice we give is advice we need to take ourselves, eh?

“And vice-versa,” Dan smiles, before hesitating. “Maybe I ought to express myself more.”

“Oh, you already do, kid,” Lawrence says. “We know.”

Dan’s grinning at his tea when he catches the end of his sentence.

“Especially Phil, did you say?”

“Oh, tell me about it. He can’t speak too highly of you, can our Phil. He can’t stop talking about you altogether, mind. ‘The Dan Button’, we call it.”

This conversation isn’t doing Dan’s sensitive blush reflex any favours whatsoever, but he’s past caring. He’s something of an open book to Lawrence anyway.

He stares at the row of vintage Cadbury mugs lining the top shelf of the cabinet (the 1970s Caramel edition is his favourite – there’s just something about the golden writing) as he continues. He wonders if he has a Phil Button. Does he talk about him a lot? Fuck, he hasn’t even thought about it. Usually there’s so much to say; whether it be an anecdote from the passing day or a conversation they’d had or something they’d watched or witnessed or read. It’s difficult to keep track of his own train of thought whenever anyone mentions him. The topic usually leads itself, his own mouth merely a guide. He’ll have to ask Noah if it’s getting excessive.

His eyes stay with the branch. The two crows huddle around the nest-like cluster. By the time this conversation is over the tree will probably be completely leaf-less, he notices as more fall.

“I don’t have a Phil Button, do I?” he says before he can stop himself. Fuck. He just couldn’t resist.

Lawrence only smiles. An eyebrow thinks about twitching upward.

Dan smirks at the silence. Okay. Enough said.

“You kids,” he sighs, swallowing the remains of his tea. “Look out for each other, won’t you? Remember what I said. Tell people how much they mean to you. They aren’t mind-readers.”

Dan smiles, and promises.

“Always.”

Lawrence grins. “I’m glad you ended up here. Doctor Lester is particularly fond of you, y’know.”

Dan stares at him. Surely not. He’s never even seen the man talk, let alone crack anything close to a smile. Any communication between the two had always been by proxy – usually through Lawrence but Phil a lot of the time too. It’s eerily easy to forget they’re even related at all, let alone father and son.

“Oh yes,” he continues, reading his expression. “I shan’t embarrass you with the details, but he says it’s simply a delight to have you on board.”

Dan stares out of the window. Another crow had joined whom he had presumed to be the mother (how can you even tell with birds like that?), both fluttering close to their respective nest. More leaves fall with every judder.

“Well, that-…” he giggles, already feeling his face flush again. He’s going to have to invest in some makeup at this point. “That means a lot. To say the very least, I guess,” he widens his eyes, staring into space. “Wow. God, that’s-…” disbelief silences him. He shakes his head. “That’s the first time like-…” his eyes flicker wider. “Ever.”

“Yeah,” Lawrence remains tactfully quiet. Any allusions toward past jobs are always met with nothing other than gentle sympathy – never questions, never any further comments. Dan can’t thank him enough for that – the past is to be referred to, not relived. If its only reflective purpose is to one day be used as a comparison, something highlighting the incline of quality of life thereafter, then so be it. “You’re appreciated here, kid. By all of us,” he leans forward. “Between you and me, I think he can see how happy you’re making Phil. Y’didn’t hear that from me though, alright?” he nudges his foot with his own and throws him a quick wink.

Dan goes from pink to peony. He makes sure to chew his biscuit properly this time, dunking it in the remains of the tea. Another choking fit at his point would probably send him head-first into the recovery position. He doesn’t reckon being carried out of Mr. Headforth’s office on a stretcher would be his finest hour. Not when he’s finally made it onto the good side of the school, of the staff and communities therein; unusually tight-knit for such a vast population.

He looks up. He smiles.

“No, I didn’t.”

Lawrence’s eyes flicker down to his cheeks. He doesn’t need to say anything.

And I make sure I tell her every single day.

It resides with him for the rest of the afternoon, the phrase burning itself into his consciousness like a tattoo behind the eyes. He can’t let it go, not when he’s studying that pineapple streak the sunset left behind, Phil a breezy nuzzle to the cheek. Not when they’re pacing through the corridors somewhere in the evening, somewhere between the fall of the sun and the rise of the moon. Not even when their hair becomes a confusion of two shades and every breath is shared.

However you say it. In whichever respect you mean it.

He wonders how Lawrence tells her; his mother. When. Where. Does it depend on the day? The hour? Circumstance? He knows there are more than eight letters involved in the action, more than three words to its weight. Does the meaning bleed through his everyday phrases? When he asks her about her day? Whether she’s eaten?

He gulps, his heart thudding.

“Have you had lunch?” was how he’d greeted Phil this noon. “I have loads of pasta in the fridge. I made too much again.”

He stares at the ceiling.

“Text me when you get there,” was how he’d said goodbye this evening. It had started as a joke between the three of them – the campus, although spanning acre-upon-acre of land is still nothing but a speck when compared to the rest of the outside world – but had quickly become something of a tradition (to the extent Dan would often find himself receiving ‘i’m ok <3’ texts from someone in the next room as him).

“Take care,” is how he punctuates most ending conversations with the other boy in hindsight. Still eight letters. A different combination of such, albeit, but a mirrored meaning.

Oh god. He’s fucked.

You’re at a funny age, grey eyes remind him.

Every cell in his body agrees with that, and apparently it’s something they’ll have to get used to. It looks like that’ll never stop, not even after ninety-eight trips around the Sun.

Remember what I said.

Dan does.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan au #dan and phil #mywriting #writing #chaptered #im still refamiliarising myself w this so it might take a couple chapters to properly settle in #but i hope this is ok omg

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hideawayintheimaginationworld · 4 years

Note

Alec is out late with friends on a weekend and he gets a text from Fetch to come home because Lefty is worried about him but won't text him himself because he doesn't want to come off as too controlling.

Tym 2 come hom

Alec didn’t initially understand the wording, he knew it was Fetch based on the strange texting language, he also didn’t understand why Fetch had texted him in particular, yes Fetch was synced to everyone's phone and would text them if necessary but he mainly communicated with Greg and Lefty.

His phone then received another message:

U need 2 come hom

Was Fetch asking him to come home?

He did see the time on his phone screen said 10:45 pm, he had been given permission by Lefty to go to the movies with some boys from school, the movie ended a while ago and Alec had decided to grab something to eat, he was just sitting inside the fast food place after eating just using the WiFi to watch videos on his phone.

Now Fetch was texting him.

Fetch had only texted him three times before, once because Fetch couldn’t get in touch with Greg, unaware Greg's phone battery died earlier.

RU on UR way now Alec?

Alec stood up, he had already decided it was time to go home but he decided to respond to Fetch first:

I'll be home in twenty minutes

Fetch responded:

C U soon

Alec checked the time before he went inside the house, he knew Lefty wasn’t particularly about curfews but Lefty did say before for everyone, which included himself, Ralpho, Sarah, Millie, Pete, Oscar, Stanley, Matt and everyone else, that it was a good idea to not be out of the property after midnight. The reason being that there were threats Lefty hadn’t captured yet, like Funtime Freddy, Alec hadn’t seen him aside from pictures but Lefty warned him enough that Funtime Freddy could potentially be stalking Millie and might be coming to watch the house after midnight for an opportunity to grab someone.

Creatures like Plushtrap, Eleanor, and Foxy were also problematic, and the reasons why the doors were impossible to break complete with multiple locks that would give enough time for Lefty to get a spell ready to repel them.

Nothing bad had happened so far, Lefty did say he was certain Eleanor showed up a few nights ago because Fetch kept barking at the window and Lefty saw a tall figure running down the street, obviously spooked by Fetch barking.

Alec pushed the door open, then closed it behind him, he immediately saw in the living room, Lefty was sitting on the sofa, and Fetch was next to him, he appeared to be asleep.

Lefty looked over at him, “Oh you're home...”

“Yes, I live here.”

“I just didn’t know when you would be coming home, that's all,” Lefty answered.

“Fetch texted me to come home,” Alec told him.

“I didn’t notice that he did,” Lefty looked at the dog who was at his side, Fetch slowly opened one of his eyes and looked at Alec.

Alec's phone buzzed, he figured Fetch had chimed in with something and looked at what he said:

Lefty was worried abt U

Alec nodded, Fetch then added on:

He won’t admit

Lefty don’t wna ctrl U

Alec interpreted that as Lefty wanting to let him have freedoms but not wanting him to get hurt by those freedoms.

He noticed from the very first time he met him that even with him unaware who he was, he saw Lefty was trying to protect Helpy from a potential threat. Then when Alec said who he was, Lefty was always looking out for him, at the time Alec was a two-foot Lonely Freddy and could disappear into the vents, Alec even got trapped in a pipe once after he fell into it and it wasn’t fun, Lefty did pull him out when he found him. Lefty was not just looking out for him, but protecting him like how a parent would.

Alec did realise after he was put back into his body that the family life he thought he wanted for several months wasn’t the one he needed.

That was months ago, and Hazel had followed him to this new life with Lefty and the others.

Lefty was still sort of new to being a parent, technically he had eight kids to watch out for, him and his sister included.

“You know if you want me to come home, just text me,” Alec said to Lefty, he didn't want Lefty to worry about him.

“Well, you know what I said... don’t be outside after midnight.”

The whole midnight thing wasn’t as much of a curfew as it was a safety rule, Alec was fine to follow any rules Lefty had because they weren’t unreasonable, Lefty expected him to do homework and chores but he was okay when Alec wanted to take a break, play games and go out for the afternoon, Lefty had never fought with him or scolded him.

“I wouldn’t,” Alec answered, “Because I know you don’t me to get hurt.”

“I don’t want anyone in this house hurt,” Lefty seemed to correct him.

“Not even Matt?”

Alec had spoken the name of an adult man they recently met, Alec knew Lefty was having arguments with Matt regularly but they seem to be less now.

“Me and Matt are establishing a better relationship,” Lefty explained, “He's starting to break a lot of bad habits, I think Spring could also to be thanked for that, I mean yes what happened wasn’t nice but it was a wake-up call, and in a way... everyone here has had some sort of wake up call.”

Alec felt like he had two wake-up calls:

When he realised Hazel wasn’t a manipulative brat, and when he realised he was a lot happier when Lefty was filling the parent role better than his own parents.

“Regardless no one in my opinion deserves to be attacked by a rogue robot.”

“What about the people created Lonely Freddy?”

“Well... I already showed those people their actions have consequences and Karma's a bitch.”

“Well, you are Karma then.”

Lefty chuckled at that, “I guess I am.”

“So not grounded for being out past eleven?”

Lefty shook his head, “Alec, I don’t really ground anyone, you know that but I'd like you to go to bed now, you need to have at least 9 and half hours of sleep.”

Lefty didn't particularly enforce an exact time for sleep, he did however liked everyone to be asleep by eleven, and he said Hazel and Chuck should have about 10 hours of sleep.

Alec nodded, “Okay, goodnight dad.”

Alec did occasionally call him Dad but not always, Lefty wouldn't force it, Alec never saw how Lefty would smile when he heard that.

“Goodnight Alec...” Lefty responded as Alec disappeared upstairs out of view.

Lefty looked at Fetch, who turned his head to him and gave him the innocent look like he did nothing wrong, he gave that look yesterday when he tracked in mud on the kitchen floor.

Lefty saw Fetch had sent him a message on his phone.

U need 2 jus communicate wn U'D lk him 2be hom

“I guess I need to do that... I mean... he's legally my kid now, heck I even considered him my kid long before, I put in the effort that his real parents never did,” Lefty said, ”I don't want to come off as controlling, however.”

I nvr met Alec's M&D but dey don’t sound gd like Greg's, U btr parent 4 them all

“Ian and Meg aren’t the same as Greg's parents...” Lefty told him, “I don’t like talking to Ian or Meg, but I’ve threatened Greg's father saying if he ever hurts him again then he better start running immediately because I won’t be held back this time by anyone.”

Fetch growled at the mention of Greg's father, something they both hated was Greg's father, he then shook his head and yawned.

Bedtime

“Yes, let's go to bed, Alec's back home now, just go to bed, I'm going to have a quick look, make sure everyone is actually asleep,” Lefty stood up from the sofa and went upstairs, Fetch followed behind him.

Lefty checked on Hazel and Ralpho first, he liked her for some reason so he often jumped on her bed while no one else was looking and fell asleep there, he then checked on Sarah and Millie, who were both asleep in their bed. Delilah also was asleep, with her alarm set for eight AM so she could go to work, Stanley, Matt and Spring were asleep.

The boys all were asleep, Alec obviously would still be conscious but his eyes were closed, the only things Lefty noticed was Pete didn’t take off his hat so it was still on his head and Oscar had his phone in his hands, he obviously fell asleep while texting Issac and Raj.

Lefty then snuck to bed, Fetch had already taken his place on the big dog bed in the corner near the door, Lefty walked pass him, he took off his hat and bow tie then laid down, drifting into a dreamless sleep.

That was until Fetch woke him at eight, asking for breakfast like he always did.

#Ask #I wrote about it but I might make it a short comic because this idea good #I wrote this in about 2 hours #For the record this probably would happen #Lefty trying to be a good parent but he doesn’t want Alec to hate him #five nights at freddy's #fazbear frights #Lonely Freddy #FNAF Alec #Lefty #FNAF Lefty #FNAF Fetch #Writing Drabble

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rowanelliis · 4 years

Text

hey hi hello i’m SLATER ( they/them ), twenty-five, currently living my worst life on the left coast ( pst ). i bring to you my twitchy, lonely son, ROWAN. he’s a part-time antique lover, part-time dishwasher, full-time ghost whisperer. ( or something like that,, we’ll get to it later. ) he fills the alone ranger plot, and you can find his bio/questionnaire HERE && some quick stats HERE. follow me under the cut for a TL;DR bio and wanted connections !! @phqextras

oh hello again ! as promised, here is the summarized bio, bc i get that it’s long and you have shit to do. that said ! if possible, i would really love if you read THE BIO before/instead of this. it’s just,,, better. and better is better. anyway, here we go !

rowan was born in pleasance to a 22 yo anita ellis and a father who bounced shortly thereafter, but we don’t care about him

he sees dead people! always has. they vary in shape from faded human to amorphous eldritch horror, and they’re supremely unhelpful. they mostly dont talk and the ones who do dont really answer what youre saying, they just say whatever they want. they moan a lot tho. its annoying. he hates them. kinda.

anita was a fraudulent fortuneteller and genuine psychic. she just knew stuff. rowan figures whatever he is, he got it from her.

he loves her sm guys. she was the mf BEST MOM. we’re talking blanket forts. we’re talking homemade stews. we’re talking going to alby’s to try on outrageous outfits they couldn’t afford and then shoplifting some little treasure to delight rowan with on the way out. the BEST.

when he was eleven, he spent an afternoon in the sequoia grove and when he got back he learned that to everyone else, hed been missing for five days

so that was a whole thing

following a years-long downward spiral of her mental health, anita showed up at rowans high school in the midst of a full-on psychotic episode. he was taken away by cps almost immediately and sent to a group home a couple towns over.

when he got back to pleasance at eighteen, she was gone. missing, not dead.

since then hes been devoted to the cause of finding her but its been eleven fucking years and no one else seems to care so he do get down abt it sometimes

his main theory is that it has something to do with the sequoia grove. he thinks that maybe whatever happened to him as a kid happened to her, but on a larger scale.

he currently lives in the house that he grew up in and that his grandparents built, a giant ugly thing that hasnt been updated in any way since the 70s

hes bad at holding a job. hes bad at feeding himself. hes bad at sleeping. hes bad at forming and maintaining relationships. basically, hes bad at being an adult human.

ok so maybe he doesnt see ghosts. maybe his mom wasnt psychic. maybe theyre just crazy. that is a possibility. but its also possible its true. you dont know. leave him alone

ok now the fun part ! here are some connections id like to see for rowan:

actual friends (one or two, three TOPS. hes a loner ok)

i honestly debated whether i wanted him to have any close friends at all but yknow what! hes been in this town for nearly 30 damn years he can treat himself to a friend or two. these would be people who believe him, or at least have an open mind. they could be from way back or more recently. just people he’s comfortable around, and maybe goes to specifically for comfort. he needs a lot more of that than he’s getting.

hookups (past or present)

i think hes kind of slutty?? not in any active kind of way, hes definitely not aggressive or even confident, but he’s so starved for affection that i think he’d have a hard time saying no to anyone offering it. his sexuality is Undeclared but Not Straight, so he’s up for grabs. he’s also weak for...... how do you say..... les milfs. i mean he would never use that word but it is what it is. mommy issues doesnt even begin to cover it. on a related note! if your character is on the amoral side of the spectrum, this guy would be wildly easy to manipulate. just like, brush his hair with your fingers or call him good or whatever. he’s Weak.

exes (maybe one serious, no more than a couple more casual)

here are some great reasons to dump rowan:

will not remember your birthday or anniversary or anything

obsessed w his mom

sometimes sleeps with his eyes open which is creepy as Fuck

usually broke

lives in that fucking house

kissed someone else at your birthday party bc they had really pretty eyes and were standing really close and kinda smiled at him and he got overwhelmed

routinely talks to the air, sometimes aggressively. thinks hes covert abt it. is not.

love interests (look im not actually into planning ships it just felt fair to rowan to balance this out a little)

here are some great reasons to date rowan:

will never, ever laugh at you or make you feel small

will give small, thoughtful gifts for no reason

cute floppy hair, doe eyes

once he feels safe with you, he will do anything for you, any time, forever

lives in that fucking house

you never knew a kiss could make you feel so wanted

maybe he’s special, you know? maybe he’s just something special

( ok that was gay ! now back to your regularly scheduled programming )

people who think he’s crazy (as many as possible tbh)

i know weve got a lot of believers here but honestly,,, even among believers i think hes kind of an outcast. the mf talks to himself. there are like 8 agreed upon stories around town and hes seen waaaaaay more ghosts than that. and non-belevers?? fuggedaboutit. i kinda see this as part of the reason he was rejected from the mystery gang. maybe someone it was like ‘ok im into checking this stuff out but that guys fucking nuts’. idk. what is life without struggle?? without conflict?? boring.

people who are using him for the story (whoever wants)

this could be a writer or reporter, but it could also just be someone whos interested in this kind of stuff. OR again, could be a non-believer who just thinks its entertaining to watch him. could be honest about their motives or straight up manipulating him into thinking theyre a friend or whatever. pretty open, i just think he would be a figure of interest to certain people.

someone who was present when his mom showed up at the high school (someones?)

this isn’t even a connection really so much as just A Thing I Want. i want someone who saw a tiny, angry-crying sixteen year old rowan drag his screaming mother down the hall of the science wing with their own two eyes. student, teacher, visiting alumni, parent or sibling who was at the school for some reason idk. maybe they pitied him and approached him later. maybe it was the thing that made someone decide hes a lost cause. it doesnt even have to ever come up. i just want someone to have that image in their brain. i want them to see it when they see what a mess he is now.

a final note! when rowan was a kid he was pretty open about the ghost stuff, mostly because his mom always believed him w/out question and he didn’t know it was something to hide. after the whole woods incident and the reaction of cps + the cops to his story, he learned to keep that shit to himself. unless he knows your character well, he probably wouldnt have discussed it w them directly. however! anyone around his age might remember the stuff he talked about as a kid or his mom showing up at the school (honestly that was dramatic enough the story may live on in the halls of nwhs today in some form or another). anyone around his moms age (40-50) might know how woo-y and sketchy she and her child were. there are certainly rumors about both of them. also, most people have probably seen him behaving strangely, ie. suddenly rerouting on the sidewalk to walk around what seems like nothing, telling something to fuck off under his breath, or just flitting his eyes over to a seemingly empty space over and over. he really does try to appear as normal as possible, but it’s difficult. i think most people see more than he knows, and more than he would like them to.

#[ roe; DEVELOPMENT. ]#phqintro #mental illness tw #i thought this wouldnt need a single tw #and honestly that would be a first for me #though only one is a first for me too sdjfnsjdfn #i really feel like i must be missing something this never happens #usually its like #just a parade of absolute horror down here in the tags

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chezforshire · 4 years

Text

Since i literally cannot work on something without blabbing abt it im gonna ramble a bit abt the earth c kids au i have

Rn im doodlin rosemary and davekats kids. Idk yet who gets saddle with a child first but both couples go through dealing with the strilondes fear of becoming their guardians. Karks has his reservations too. Thinks he's too much of an asshole to really rear a kid and being a parent is like being a leader, sorta. Some loser wriggler hangs onto your every word and you try your best to guide em where they should go. Previous experiences have shown him to have failed in that regard so imagine his trepidation over having to do that for longer than a few weeks.

Kan's prolly the only one of em who has her head about with the whole child rearing business bc well she was hatched for this shit ya know

Anyway the kid rosemary has is a maryam descendant and rose just goes 'well, she's sorta ur kid genetically speaking and we're married so she's my kid too ig so... we should raise her????' And they do and she's sweet and smart and terrifying in that she keeps alluding to murdering you if you so much as look at her or her parents wrong. Her name is Astrea Maryam-Lalonde and she loves her moms a whole damn lot and she thinks theyre the absolute shit. She's fascinated with fashion as is the Maryam staple though she only cares abt her appearance if she's being seen by people outside of family. When she's at home she just wears ratty tshirts and shorts or sweatpants that have more than a few holes in it. This makes Kanaya sigh with exasperation and just say 'like mother like daughter' as Rose flops on the couch next to their daughter in clothes under the same state.

Dave loves the shit out of her ofc bc he's a great uncle but also bc she loves drawing a whole buncha shit. Most of the time she draws people so she could slap some sick as shit dresses she designes on them. Dave talks abt SBaHJ w her and she's just That sounds Highly Stupid where can I see it and so they spend an afternoon just talking abt it and she genuinely finds it funny and wonders more than once if one day she could make her own comic. Though hers, no offence to Dave, would be much more serious and plot heavy and maybe gay and has romance bc seriously she's a Maryam-Lalonde have you seen their library? And Dave encourages her abt it and has become her editor/soundboard/ whatever the fuck when she has ideas for stories and makes quick drawings abt it.

Im not set on how davekat gets their kid yet but it's an ectogoop hybrid of the two of them. His name is Kagang Vantas for now bc Dave still hasn't gotten around to marrying Karkat wc is fine bc it's not like it means much to either of them but he does playfully call him husband every now and then. Anyway, the little dude is a human/troll hybrid and don't ask me any questions abt that yet im working on it. He's a bit of a brat but is a nice kid. He's a little hard of hearing so he doesn't always notice his voice but that's fine bc Dirk teaches him sign and makes him some hearing aids that he asks to have customized to look sick as shit when he grows up. He's got a lotta energy and spends a lot of his time playing outside w John, Jade and Jake. He's really attentive too and picks up on tiny details rly fast which makes him pretty great at handling upset ppl. He rly likes music just like Dave and that spurs the god into buying even better acoustics every year so his son can feel the vibrations much better. Contrary to Dave, however, Kagang rly likes classical music mostly bc Rose spent a whole lot of time playing her violin for both him and Astrea. He picks up the instrument too when he grows up and Rose is all too happy teaching him.

Dirk is apprehensive arnd the kid given what he knows of who he can become w Dave but he truly deeply loves the kid. He's distant for a few years and Kagang inevitably thinks it's his fault bc Dave and Karkat are both vry rejection-sensitive people and sadly that got passed down to the kid but dw it takes one to know one so the dads know how to get him through it. Dave talks abt it w Dirk and Dirk is floored bc jesus i was trying to make sure the kid wouldn't feel bad arnd me and fuck whatever i do its just a fuck up huh and Dave just shooshes him and goes bro dude dirkles it's fine you can still work on it. Now u know what's up and why u can work to make a better relationship. I know u love the shit outta my little dude but sometimes that ain't enough. Ya gotta show it through words and actions now come on let's hang out w Kagang and u can slowly mend that bridge. And he does and fuck he /can/ be a good person, these past few years has thought him that, and by fuck will he make sure that his nephew knows that he loves him and cares for him and thinks he's the shit

One can say Kagang and Astrea have a moirailgance but it's a lot more like siblingship rly. They poke fun at each other, mess w each other, would hide a body for the other all that shit. It's a lot like Dave and Rose but w a lot less layers of cool and aloofness to hide the fact that Dork+Dork equals Mega Dork.

#chersonal #homestuck #homestuck ocs #earth c kids au #fsofjridkdifnskfb im too tiredto keep foing sry

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dishwater-blondie · 5 years

Note

howdy! if you’re still taking prompts, i have a potentially angsty one: nathalie talking down abt herself (ie. “i’m nothing”-type talk) and gabriel being /very/ concerned. that, or gabriel finally admitting to nathalie that he loves her

She had been sitting at her desk, leaning over her tablet as she composed Adrien’s schedule for the next few weeks. He could tell she was tired by the way she set her chin in her hand and blinked slowly down at the screen now and again. The afternoon was waning, and by now, her bun had loosened. One small piece of hair had come undone and brushed against her neck when she rocked back to glance at her work from a distance - checking the color-coding - and then continued.

“How are you?” he asked, and her eyes flicked to him while her index finger continued to move across the screen.

“What?”

“Did you sleep well last night?” he rephrased. She had a tendency to answer vague questions with vague answers.

As soon as he asked, she straightened herself, widened her eyes, tried to appear more alert than she had looked for the past couple hours. “No,” she replied honestly, surprising him. “But I’m okay.”

She smiled, then, but like everything else about her, it was tired. It was only to reassure him. She was so intent on hiding herself behind a mask, and on certain days, it had been plastered over her skin so seamlessly that it seemed even she was fooled by the face that she stared through. The patterns had revealed himself to him over the last several months. He used to believe believe those smiles, the soft, comforting promises she made to him whenever he saw through the cracks that they didn’t need to be fixed. He knew better now.

“If you need to rest, I’ll allow it,” he told her, in a tone which suggested that his giving permission was truly a hope that she would take him up on the offer, but sensing this, something shut down, and she turned her head away from him. “Are you okay?”

“Really, Gabriel, I’m fine. Please, don’t worry about me.”

“Forgive me, but I’ve made quite the habit of it.”

Her brow lowered at this. “It’s just sleep. I don’t feel that sick right now. Sir, please, you should save your energy for problems that-“ Here she paused, like she knew he wasn’t going to like her next words, but she spoke them anyway, timidly, “-for the problems that actually matter.”

“Nathalie…”

“I’m fine,” she insisted once more. She had wanted to return to constructing Adrien’s schedule, but the exchange had clearly distracted her, because she stared down at her tablet like she had forgotten where she left off. Her gaze flitted across the screen searching for something to pounce on. It left him open to say more.

“I’m relieved you don’t feel sick, but you should still be taking it easy. I want you to be getting enough rest. It’s important regardless, but it is especially important for you.”

Her jaw set irritably and the wandering finger hovering above her tablet curled to join her hand into a fist. “I did try to sleep, sir. Last night, I just - I’m fine now, I promise. But last night I was having trouble breathing regularly. It kept me up. Please, don’t look at me like that.”

“Nathalie, I cannot stop myself from worrying,” he said.

She sighed, leaning back into her chair. “That’s just the way things are right now. You have so much more to concern yourself with than me.”

“Do I?” he challenged, which made her eyes flash in surprise. “Nathalie, you’re quite unwell all things considered. What do I have to fear for more than you?”

She hesitated. “Work,” she offered, “Adrien, Emilie-“

“You weren’t meant to answer that,” he interrupted.

“Well, am I wrong?”

“You’re not right.”

Her lips were angled tentatively, but Gabriel felt his blood go cold at her eyes, harboring something very sad and very dangerous within them. Warily, she murmured, “I know you’re afraid for me, sir. You’re seeing the same thing happen to me which happened to her, but please, your energy needs keep its focus. Don’t let me distract you. Not with so much at stake.”

He felt like the air had been stolen clean out of his lungs, but he managed to choke out her name.

“I want to see you happy,” said Nathalie. “You know it won’t help you to worry so much about me. Do you know how many plans you have abandoned for my sake?”

“Do you take me for a man who would stand by and somebody else suffer at his feet? Nathalie, sometimes you can’t even stand. Am I supposed to leave you on the floor? Am I supposed to ignore you?”

She realized how absurd this sounded. “No, but-“

“But what? I take you somewhere safe and return to my akuma, not knowing if you can even stay conscious? You think I could leave you alone in such a state? Nathalie, there will be other plans. There will be better days. But there’s only one you.”

She started shaking her head. “How did we get here? You asked if I slept well-“

“We’ve been here, Nathalie.” Gabriel approached her desk and reached over to grab her left hand, the one she would have tried to use to return to her tablet. She stared between his eyes and his gentle but solid grip. “We’ve been here many times, and you have always found a way to make yourself out as unimportant. Do you realize how much that makes me fear for you? Not just for your condition, but for you.”

She gazed at him helplessly. “Gabriel…”

“Understand,” he said firmly, “I need you Nathalie. I need you not just because you help me, not just because you’re my assistant, but because you are the only person I can trust. You are the only one I have who can help me through this, and I cannot stress it enough how deeply I care that you are not only well, but happy.” He leaned over the desk so their foreheads were inches apart. Her eyes, bright and cerulean, glittered with moisture. “I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well last night,” he told her, his voice lowered so that Nooroo, who was perpetually hidden behind his shoulder, could not even hear. “I believe you that you tried. I want you to care about your well-being. I want you to know you are important. I cannot, under any circumstance, lose you. Do you understand?”

He hadn’t realized that his grip on her hand had tightened so much. Fearing he might be hurting her, he let go, but to his surprise she grabbed it back. A tear had spilled over her waterline, tracing a slow, steady line down her cheek. “I understand,” she whispered.

Gabriel took the tablet and tucked it under his arm, smiling at her, hoping to make her see how much he meant his words. “You can finish Adrien’s schedule later. I want you to rest.”

She could have protested. She came close, judging by the way her lips parted, a line forming above her brows, but she decided against it.

He led her to a guest bedroom and chose to leave her to herself, closing the door and returning to the atelier without so much as a “See you later.”

But an hour later, we went to check on her, to find her blazer tossed over an arm chair, her glasses folded on the end table, and herself tucked under the covers, soundly sleeping, her face serene. His chest flushed with warmth.

“Sweet dreams, my dear.”

#gabenath #prompt

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lizzieraindrops · 4 years

Text

Your chance to make the sun rise thrice (Chapter 2)

a river that still runs (8803 words)

Beth Childs has come to Helsinki to meet her best friend Veera for the first time in the Herbs on the windowsill universe, an alternate timeline where the original Helsinki massacre was prevented and DYAD routed by Clone Club Alpha’s successful publicity stunt back in 2001. Veera Suominen and Niki Lintula survived and decided to live in a little apartment together as qpp’s. Numerous Leda clones worldwide are now in contact via a secure online network that Veera maintains.

Note: This chapter is a bit heavier than the rest of the AU. Beth is still struggling with a lot of the same challenges in this universe, even if the events causing them are somewhat different because of such early canon divergence. But the whole point of this story is that things can end up okay no matter how rough it's been. She's getting the help she needs and she's gonna be alright. That said, warning for soft discussion of past abuse, the effects of trauma, depression and anxiety, and some suicidal ideation. And of course, lots of love and learning how to heal, with support from her best friend.

Fun fact: Veera's username is 3mika, and she always sets her font to the precise warm turquoise of hex color #2299aa. She thinks she's hilarious, and she's right.

Also on AO3 | Playlist | Aesthetic sideblog

Part 1: Herbs on the windowsill

Part 2: Someday colors

Part 3: Your chance to make the sun rise thrice | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

***

Beth wakes on a squashy couch that isn't hers. Morning-soft sunlight pours through the window above her, bouncing back off the walls to fill even the shady corners with a warm secondhand glow. Her limbs are soft, splayed under unfamiliar blankets and sinking into the cushions. She doesn't move yet.

The apartment. Helsinki. Beth's really here. She holds herself still, letting the truth sink into her. She half expects the usual anxious tension to clench her into a ball the instant she moves a muscle, but it isn't there. Neither is the invisible weight that so often pins her immobile. She still wakes frequently with both of them holding her body hostage, keeping her muscles unmoving but restless, even in sleep. Right now though, they're gone. She just lies there, soft beneath the window.

It's quiet but not silent. The occasional car on the little road outside chuckles as it passes. A soft rush of water echoes through pipes in the walls, running toward an early riser in another unit. These sounds fall strangely on Beth's Toronto-bred ears, isolated in the stillness of this of this little apartment on the outskirts of the city. Still, the early-morning atmosphere settles comfortably into her jet-lagged bones, murmuring a rhythm for her to sink into. The temporal upheaval of a transcontinental red-eye and a series of exhausted naps yesterday have left her a little unbalanced. And yet, here she is waking up with the day, and the ground under her feels so much more stable than she’s used to.

Beth breaks her stillness with a deep, deep breath that she can feel expanding all the way down to her feet. She stretches, too, but soon pulls the toes that get exposed back underneath the warm, scratchy blanket. The cushions of the old couch creak a little in complaint as she shifts, but her limbs remain supple. For a time, she just observes the sensations. Then, her awareness spreads beyond the couch and the window to the rest of the room.

All around her, an oddly blocky pattern covers the walls. It's one of the first things she noticed when she walked into the apartment yesterday afternoon. The pattern isn't wallpaper like it appears at first glance, but actually a multitude of small photographs. Most of them are unframed, but taped up in crisply aligned rows. In them, she sees the same face infused with a hundred different lives. Just above her, a sleeping, slack-jawed redhead with bulky headphones around her neck sprawls on the very same couch Beth's laying on now. A few rows down, a brunette and a blonde with their long hair in matching wild waves are leaning all over each other and grinning like devils. One of the few framed photos shows a girl with a hospital-short buzz cut and a delighted expression, sitting in front of what looks like a mouthwatering strawberry shortcake. Beth can see at least six others in the background behind strawberry girl. Among them are Mika with her unmistakable scars and Niki with her bright blonde hair, their arms around each other's shoulders.

Morning light glances off the glossy surfaces of the photos on the west wall. The particularly bright reflection off one of the framed photos draws Beth's eye. With a tiny jolt, Beth recognizes one of her own selfies beneath the glass. In it, she's wearing the same old turquoise blue sweatshirt that's spilling out of her suitcase next to the couch right now. Underneath it, she's wearing her track gear, so the photo is at least two years old. She'd had to quit cross-country so she could try to get the shitshow her life had become under control. She vaguely recalls sending it to Mika a long time ago. It's strange to think that her presence has been in this apartment for so long.

She's here. In Finland. Staying with Mika – Mika - and Niki. Far, far away from everything.

Sprawling on the couch she slept on with a sigh as if she hadn’t a care in the world, Beth can't believe she's really gone and done it. She's run so far away that there's an ocean between her and her problems. It’s so much better than she's dreamed, even if it's only for a little while. It’s worth it, even though she'll be going back far too soon. For the first time in years, it feels like she’s where she’s supposed to be right now.

It had all started out as foolish idea she'd floated one Saturday morning, months ago. She hadn't been serious at all. She'd woken up so relieved at not having to get up and go to work, until she remembered her weekly therapy appointment with a hopeless groan.

Putting off the genuinely daunting prospect of hauling herself out of bed, she reached out to snag her phone from on top of her dresser, checking to see if she'd heard from Mika overnight. After all, Helsinki was nine hours ahead, so Mika had already seen most of the day that was just beginning for Beth. They talked so often these days, since they'd first made contact over two years ago. Rarely a day passed without touching base. But there wasn’t anything since Beth had checked last night. She took it upon herself to send the first message of the day.

runwaterblue: god, i dont wanna get up and deal with any of thsi shit today

After her world fell apart, after finding out about Project Leda, after realizing that all her nightmares and more were real, after her father...

runwaterblue: wish i could come visit u and get away form everything for awhile

Mika replied almost immediately.

3mika: you can

It was evening in her time zone, but to be honest, Beth had no idea if she had anything resembling a regular sleep schedule. The girl was always online.

3mika: though you really should go to your appointment. you always feel better afterward

runwaterblue: howd you know i have therapy today

3mika: you always have an appointment saturday afternoons

runwaterblue: yes but how do you remember that? i cant evne remember my own appts lmao

3mika: you mentioned it months ago when you switched from sundays to saturdays

Beth shook her head with a smile. Mika was so good with details.

3mika: anyway. you’re welcome here, if you can get here

3mika: it would be great to see you

3mika: Niki wouldn't mind. we've had a bunch of Ledas visit us here, it's always fun

3mika: except that one time Dani and Ary got into a fight over football. some French-Italian team rivalry thing. that was not fun.

Beth laughed. It was funny how Mika was so good at making her do that, even on days like these. She leaned back against her pillow and held her phone over her head without sitting up, being careful not to drop it on her own face. She'd done that before. More times than she'd admit.

runwaterblue: i was kidding. id love to visit, but idk how id get there

runwaterblue: u should see the americans go off abt their football lmao. they're nerly as bad as the hockey freaks here

3mika: pls no

3mika: no more sports. it was a year ago and I’m still exhausted

3mika: sports are banned in this apartment.

Beth snorted. Mika wanted nothing to do with sports of any kind, and with Beth's athletic record, the topic had become a point of mutual teasing between them.

In so many ways, they were such different people, DNA be damned. Mika was reticent where Beth was outgoing. (Or at least, Beth had been. She was never quite sure how to think of herself these days.) Clone drama aside, Beth had been a pretty average Canadian high schooler. She got reasonable grades, played a few sports, and kept mostly out of trouble because there would be hell to pay if she didn’t. Mika was a brilliant homeschooled autistic orphan who had been raised in near isolation by her guardian after surviving the hospital fire that marked her skin for life. Beth mostly listened to pop music, and where no one else could hear, the occasional classical symphony. Mika held fast to Finland's weird obsession with death metal and dabbled in literally everything else.

And yet, Mika understands Beth like no one else does. And it's not just because they've both been through all this Project Leda bullshit. Though Beth doesn't know what she would have done without Mika to help her through that, too.

Beth won't ever be able to forget the moment that everything changed. Recognizing a her own face from the mirror on the evening news stopped her in her tracks, as something in her gut caved in with the hollow certainty that it wasn't her. Then face after face flickered before her, a flipbook barrage of déja vu. Blonde and smiling. Scarred and pensive. Braids and piercings and a rakish grin. Beth was rooted in place as people she had never been wearing things she had never worn said things she was never supposed to know.

That utter strangeness on the screen immediately seeped into her life like an oil slick into a river, tainting every thing she thought she knew with clinging uncertainty. Her father was inexplicably even more upset about it than Beth was, yet adamant that they shouldn't look into the matter. But it was already too late to stop herself from thinking. With slow horror, the truth of what exactly his behavior must mean dawned on her. And yet, even with the desperate growing certainty about who her Leda monitor must be, it was hard to believe that he could be anything other than her plain stern father.

He was always a bit strict and overprotective - probably well more than a bit, she realizes these days. But she’d thought that's just what it was like to be a cop's daughter. He'd never done anything really extreme, nothing beyond the firm discipline any kid could expect. He was just not a man to be trifled with, that was all. So until everything she thought she knew shifted that day and threatened to topple every assumption she’d built her life on, she had never truly dared to cross him.

Outright daring him to say to her face that he wasn't her monitor was probably considered a step beyond trifling. He did not take it kindly.

Two months later, Beth and her mother were living in an apartment on the opposite side of the city. It took two months for the two of them to lay plans to leave together, for good. For two months, her every move was watched. She spent two months knowing there would be hell to pay if she didn't give the performance of a lifetime pretending everything was fine, even while sirens blared inside her day and night. Two months was more than enough to teach her things she never wanted to know about the hidden marks fear leaves on the body.

Even after she finally escaped, her life was in tatters and nothing made sense. It wasn’t just the sudden jarring discovery of Project Leda, or the crisis it had forced her to confront. It was learning that, deep down, she had known that she’d never once felt free. She’d unconsciously kept herself from knowing to avoid exactly that conflict of wills that she’d known she would lose.

Trying to come to terms with what had happened and how it changed everything, Beth was continuously losing her balance. Questioning which parts of her life had been screwed over by her father and which by being part of some ridiculous supervillain science experiment was like trying to stand on two kickboards in a pool. She couldn't find her footing, and all she could do was try and stay afloat. She had to repeat her whole junior year of high school that she lost to this shitshow, while starting over at a new school, and only barely scraped her way into senior year. Now that she knew how honestly terrible she'd been at judging who in her life she could trust, it was as hard to talk to old friends as it was to make new ones.

Therapy helped her start sorting out what she was feeling, and how the environment she’d grown up in was really not the healthiest. She hadn’t realized how much she’d learned to doubt her own perceptions. That made constructing any kind of new understanding of her situation an uphill struggle. And of course, her therapist couldn’t help her confirm anything about a human experiment that was so illegal it had been an international secret. As she continued to stumble forward, Beth even started doubting her former certainty of the identity of her Leda monitor. She questioned herself and everything she knew until she wanted to scream with frustration or weep with confusion. The floor of the counselor’s office could have been mopped with her tears. It was, quite literally, driving her mad.

So, finally, Beth had taken up the invitation on the banner of every Leda news feature to "Contact the secure, clone-run Clone Youth Group Network (CYGNet) for answers by emailing [email protected]."

She wanted something concrete that would help convince her brain to stop reenacting these head games that warped her reality. It still insisted on playing through the patterns it had been taught, even in its teacher’s absence. She needed something that could brace her against the ideas that she was really just paranoid, overreacting, accusing, that this was all her fault for making a big deal out of nothing. Even with his other faults (cruelties, her mind whispered) aside, at least his involvement with Project Leda was unforgivable, and she wanted proof of it. Maybe if she had that, she could stop being mad at herself for not wanting to forgive. And if anyone had that proof, CYGNet would.

Maybe it was just because of the sheer blunt honesty about her motives, or the inescapable vulnerability of the message Beth sent, but Mika had replied to her within a day. And she'd been so gentle about it, too, enough to make Beth later question where the stereotype of autistic brashness came from. Then again, over email, Mika had all the time she needed to compose her thoughts and lay them out as softly as she wanted. She didn't have to spit them out as fast as she could to keep pace with a quick and painfully overwhelming world.

Hi Beth Childs,

I'm so sorry for what you had to go through. I still don't know how they got away with doing things like this for so long. I suppose people will always find ways to be cruel. But we've survived this long, and the whole point of CYGNet is to help us all heal. The experimental network has been dismantled, and we are assembling resources to help us. We've brought mental health professionals on to the project to develop custom programs for our needs. We can make them available to you, if you are interested.

I attached scans of some of your files that we recovered from DYAD. There are a few case reports with the signature of the person you asked about, spaced throughout your lifetime. There are also financial records with his name in the list of paid employees. He was without a doubt part of the Leda monitor program. I can provide all of the documentation that we have related to you, if you like, but I thought that would be too much all at once. I know these are hard to look at, but I hope they help let your mind rest. They are very real, and every awful thing we have experienced was also real, no matter how they tried to convince everyone that we were making it all up.

Please take your time with these, and stay in contact if you want to. You can join our mailing list, if you want to know when we have new information or new resources available. We're here for you.

And hey, if you just want to talk to someone who knows what it's like to deal with all of this, I'm here, too. You can reach my personal inbox or IM me at [email protected]. It'll be okay.

-Veera

Beth had started crying before she even finished reading the letter, much less opened the attachments. She cried so often these days. She only knew why half the time. But this time, it felt like the tears were extracting some of her pain as they left her, instead of just overflowing from the unending wellspring of her directionless distress. All of this was real, and someone else knew it.

Though she was grateful beyond measure for her mother’s untiring support, they were each other’s too-close, ever-present reminders of what they’d survived, trying to act like they weren’t, trying to convince each other and themselves that they were okay. Beth had needed something else, too, something until now unnamed.

This was a handhold, a backstop Beth didn't know she'd been desperate to find. It wasn't just the confirmation of what she’d concluded about her father. The ability speak plainly to someone she didn't feel the need to pretend around was an exhale of a breath held too long. At least one person in the world not only understood, but really and truly didn't want or expect her to act like any of this was normal or okay, or that she would ever be the same again.

Veera – or Mika, as she often went by online – made good on her offer of a sympathetic ear. Their correspondence started off with awkward, grammatically correct messages about the less painful details of their lives. Mika told her about the farmer’s market three blocks away where she went walking early in the morning before it got busy, and the plant stand there that her best friend and roommate Niki (also a Leda) had to ask her to stop buying so many succulents from.

At first, Beth tried to chatter like she used to, but there were no safe subjects. What had happened had touched all of her life. Normally, she’d talk about school, or sports, or her friends. But she was trying to start all over again at a new school with all the struggles that came with it. She didn’t have the time or energy for sports anymore, and talking about them hurt, now. Running used to make her heart sing. But no matter how she tried, there was no joy in the motion anymore. To top it all off, it was as hard to connect with old friends from her old life as it was to try and make new ones. She spent most interactions either doubting her own character judgement or dreading the moment people recognized her Leda face from the news.

She didn’t know how to talk about any of it to anyone. Maybe she could have if it had been just the clone thing or just the dad thing. But the two were inextricably entangled, and she still couldn’t even explain it to herself. It was all unbelievably horrifying, and any time she tried to be honest about it, people ended up disbelieving or horrified. Shocker.

Maybe, though, it wouldn’t be weird to talk about it with Mika. Mika already knew the worst. Beth didn’t have to hide that hurt from her to keep from shaking her world, or to keep her dismissal from hurting Beth. Maybe that’s what was hurting the most: the feeling that even after escaping, she still had to pretend to be okay. That compulsive stifling feeling choked her whenever it bubbled back up. On her bad days, a simple “how are you?” could reduce her to a blank face plastered over a raw tangle of emotions held motionless her own iron grip.

But Mika mentioned having bad days, too. Days came where she was too scared and nightmare-weary to do anything but make herself some tea and soak up some sunlight in the safety of home. Beth could casually say things like after those two months, i still twitch every time i hear a door open, and i wish my body would quit feeling like it doesn’t exist, my legs feel numb. It barely broke the surface of what it was like in her head, but was discomfiting enough for people that she held her tongue at school.

Sometimes, Beth got tired of constantly thinking about all this shit and tried to lighten things up. On one comically disastrous occasion of cultural exchange, she liveblogged Mika her attempt at eating the infamous Scandinavian lutefisk, along with an audio recording of the incoherent horrified noises she made after tasting it. In return, she received a recording of someone, presumably Mika, laughing harder than she’d ever heard anyone laugh before. It made Beth smile. Not many things did, back then.

Slowly, as the formality fell away from their transcontinental conversations, their heavier stories seething below the surface seeped in. Beth had been in therapy long enough now to know that she couldn't just recklessly unload on people the way she did in counseling sessions. But a counselor couldn't always provide the same kind of unspoken solidarity that someone in the same boat could.

Bit by bit, slipped into the chats that were becoming a daily occurrence, they talked about monitors, about what the experiment had really all been for, why that both was and wasn’t important, and how they'd discovered they were a part of Project Leda. Putting words to the pain hurt, a lot. But the ability to lay out long-unspoken truths in front of each other, knowing they were believed in the way that only people who have shared something can, was a healing kind of pain instead of the festering one Beth had been living with.

The two of them had more in common than they'd thought, growing up a world apart. Beth's experience raised under the subconscious wariness of her father's hovering thumb felt a lot like what Mika described growing up largely isolated with her former guardian. But sometimes, whenever they realized that something they'd both thought was normal was pretty not, they got a good laugh out of it despite the weight of their pasts. Mika seemed somewhat accustomed to her normal being considered pretty weird, so she usually took the revelations in stride better than Beth did. Beth wouldn't find out for at least a year after meeting her that it was because of her Asperger's, since it was a topic Mika seemed quite sensitive about.

Mika explained it once, in a conversation full of long pauses on her part and watching the typing icon disappear and reappear on Beth’s. The way she put it, it just meant that her brain worked a bit differently than most people's, processing sounds and sights and all the information it took in at different speeds and with different emphases. The difference could turn everyday things like the sound of a refrigerator running into a splitting headache, or something as simple as the soft texture of her favorite jacket into a kind of bliss. That alternative way of processing also extended to things like words and emotions as well. Sometimes, it took her longer than the world was willing to wait to process them into something that made sense. It often made communication tricky, trying to compensate for the gap in mutual understanding with most people. The world and the people in it could be so overwhelming sometimes, so fast and bright and full of noise and uncertainty and bewilderingly arbitrary social conventions. But the biggest challenge was other people expecting her to do everything the same way they did, ignorant of the fact there were any ways to exist other than their own, and completely oblivious to the fact that she was already putting in at least twice as much effort to communicate with them as they were with her.

And yet, even coming from such a different perspective, Mika gets it. Beth says sometimes i dream of drowning and its not a nightmare and i wake up not knowing how to feel, and Mika says I still dream of burning and wake up not knowing which fires are real, and they both say yeah. And they sit there across the world from each other knowing these things, knowing that it doesn't fix anything. And yet, it does change something. Nothing's any better, really. But somehow, the knowledge that someone else understands makes it a little easier to bear.

And that's just it. Somehow, without ever even having seen her face, Mika sees Beth clearer than anyone. All of her, all the ugly parts she hides so that they can't hurt anyone, and all the good parts that she also hides so that nobody can hurt them or take them away from her. Mika sees all of that and then just tells Beth another story about the Northern Lights she sees on the regular. Apparently, in Finnish, they’re called "fox fires." Beth hardly ever sees the aurora, living relatively far south in a bright city. But her stories about life in the metropolis by the lake intrigue Mika as much as the tales of the twisting green lights do her. And Beth can talk about something lighter again while not having to pretend that the heaviness isn’t there, too, even while she’s just once more trying and failing to explain poutine. For her, the weight never really goes away. But the effort of pretending she’s not carrying it takes more out of her than the weight itself. Mika understands that.

Maybe that’s why Beth had talked it over with Mika first, even before her mom, when she was considering taking a gap year after she hopefully managed to finish her senior year of high school. (God, it was so hard to think about English or math or whatever when just that morning she’d woken from a nightmare about being back in a not-home house that she never escaped.) Beth's mom had been so unbelievably supportive of Beth's recovery, even while she herself was adjusting to the wrenching change in both of their lives. It was both inspiring and a little intimidating. If her mom managed to run a household and raise a daughter all on her own, even while trying to heal from her own trauma, how could Beth not do her utmost, too? She was grateful to be able to talk to Mika about it, to get a reality check from someone who both understood her situation intimately and didn't make Beth feel that pressure of expectation. In the end, Beth did decide to take a year or two off before considering college, and her mom was again nothing if not supportive. Beth figured, after this entire mess, she deserved some time to herself to work on sorting her shit out, and her mom agreed.

After graduating with reasonable if not flying colors, Beth worked a series of part-time and odd jobs that didn't stress her out too much, letting herself focus on her own healing. In between her mom's support, seeing a counselor regularly, and the security of having a friend she could really trust, Beth felt like she was making progress. Slow progress, sure, but progress, nonetheless. Considering that she had seventeen years' worth of lies to unbelieve and emotional trauma to finally acknowledge, Beth figured that there was only so much she could do in the three years she'd had.

Her days were still hard. Getting sleep and waking up and eating and even just existing were still so fucking hard sometimes, and it was horrible. Some days, the thinnest sheet trapped her in bed like it was a car pinning her down. It felt so stupid for such simple things to be so hard. But then her therapist would remind her that that’s what mental illness and trauma was, that this was what the wounds in her mind and heart made her feel like. And once in awhile, sun broke through the shadows, and she had a day that reminded her what an okay day felt like – that okay days existed. That more might.

Now, she’s here, lying in a bright living room so far from home, with her dearest friend in the next room. She’s comfortable, except for the knot in her neck from sleeping oddly on the couch. The soreness pales in comparison to the usual tensions that are so strangely absent. Beth can’t remember the last time she felt this okay. She’s not steeling herself to go to work. She’s not dreading the next conversation with her mother that goes quiet as they both remember awful things they don’t mention. She’s not bracing herself for the next time her brain runs rampant worrying about whether she’ll run into the subject of her restraining order somewhere in the city and have to wonder if he'll honor it.

None of that reaches her here. There’s something about this quiet little pocket of space. It’s overrun with a proliferation of potted plants, from the sprawling lacy-leafed monster in the corner, to the fern peeping out of the kitchen, to the vine cuttings spilling out of an oddly familiar leaf-shaped glass bottle on the sill. Sunlight streaks through leaves and windowpanes and across the colorful patchwork of rugs on the floor. In the midst of it all, Beth is held by a palpable aura of gentleness. It holds her so softly that she doesn't need to hold herself in. It's like the layer of caution that she always keeps wrapped between herself and the rest of the world has simply dissolved away. In this moment suspended in morning light, she is okay.

She feels safe.

The realization undoes something in her. She feels the tears starting, and she expects the taut tension of involuntary stifling that always comes with them to return. But it doesn’t. She lies still and soft on the couch with the water creeping over her cheeks, breath occasionally catching but flowing freely. She savors it in the quiet.

The soft thunk of an ill-fitted door opening breaks into her odd reverie. Mika’s up. Beth sniffs and scrubs at her eyes halfheartedly, but she can’t hide them right now and she doesn’t want to. Mika notices immediately, and comes trotting over with quiet steps, leaning forward all concern.

"Beth," she says softly. She shifts from foot to foot like a nervous cat, watching Beth with enormous eyes. Beth has never met anyone else with such an intense stare. Or maybe it's just the fact that Beth knows beyond all doubt that she's being looked at by somebody who really sees her in her entirety. It's like she's staring right into Beth's soul. But Mika was able to do that long before they saw each others' faces. They've shared so many thousands of words over screens and seas, so many emotions that have gone otherwise unspoken, so many too-early mornings and too-late nights on the fringes of each other's dawns and dusks.

“What’s wrong?”

Finally, a flash of that sick tension runs through Beth’s body. It’s been okay when Mika has asked that before, when it was just silent letters on a screen. But out loud, the question falls on her ears like every well-meaning inquiry she’s ever had to scramble to find an acceptable answer for. The strain begins to cinch tight around her again like coarse ropes across barely-healed skin, ready to compel her to replace the truth with something safer. Her arms and legs tied, she begins to freeze, railing against herself for tainting the softness, the safety of this place.

"Beth." Mika says again, softer but more urgent.

In the gap between thoughts created by hearing her name, Beth seizes the chance to redirect them to the present. She clings to the welling in the corners of her eyes, the warmth of the sun caressing her back. The leaves of trees whisper outside the third-floor window in a mild breeze. The brightness spills over the sill and across Mika’s asymmetrical, half-craggy face and lights up tufts of her short hair as she steps closer. The couch dips as Mika sits down next to her, tilting Beth toward her.

Without meeting her eyes, Mika lifts a hesitant hand that hovers in the air between them, uncertain yet reaching. Her gentle palm falls onto Beth's forearm as softly as a floating leaf. The fingers curl around Beth’s arm just below the wrist, firm but not tight. Comforting.

The softness surrounding Beth seeps back into her, saturating her. As the memory fades like a ripple into water, the tension slackens. But it leaves her shaky, with traces of a familiar ache in her neck muscles, one that goes deeper than the simple stiffness from the couch. She sucks in a few unsteady breaths while Mika gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“Sorry,” Beth says in a small, awkward voice.

Mika tilts her head. “Why?”

“Uh, I didn’t mean to bring all – this mess, in here.” Beth rubs the back of her neck with her free hand. “It’s so... soft, and okay, and – I don’t wanna ruin it,” she says, trailing off into a mumble.

“Hey.” Mika moves her hand from Beth’s arm to her shoulder. When Beth looks at her, she’s looking right back. Mika's eyes dart down to the floor for a moment, but then return to hold Beth’s with deliberate steadiness. “It’s alright. It’s like this here because we wanted it to be safe to be messy. You’re not ruining anything.”

“... Oh.” She’s steadied by Mika’s fingers curling around her shoulder, by the tendrils of sunlight spreading across her head and back and arms. Mika’s voice is small but steady, and somehow it comes from the same throat that makes that huge pealing laugh. It’s so strange how they sound nothing alike. Until yesterday, Beth hadn’t heard her voice since the lutefisk incident. They’d mostly kept to text and pictures. It had seemed easier, the way it gave them both plenty time to think before they spoke through their different uncertainties. Beth was already planning her trip before they realized that they’d never actually called each other. By that point, it sounded like more fun to meet in person the old-fashioned way.

"I'll make you some tea." Mika abruptly stands and lets go of her. Beth is sad to lose the contact. She flits across the room toward the kitchen in her soft cotton pajama pants, complemented by yet another black graphic tee for yet another Scandinavian metal band Beth's never heard of. Or at least, she'd never heard of them before Mika, who has something to say about all of them, and now Beth knows more than she'll ever need to.

Mika moves in and out of view behind the half-wall that separates the little living room from the kitchen. The fronds of the fern on the counter make a green rustling as she brushes by them. It sends soft feathered shadows waving across the wall opposite the window. Beth hears the rush of water boiling out of sight, and soon sees steam rising from the mug that's being handed to her.

"It's hot," Mika says unnecessarily. She sits down next to her again, this time leaning into Beth with her arm. Beth’s glad for it.

"Have you ditched the bags and gone loose leaf?" Beth says, eyeing the fragments of bright green leaf free floating in her mug.

"It didn't come in a bag. It came from the window."

"The window?"

"It's basil tea. For the fear and pain. Five large fresh leaves in two hundred and fifty milliliters water. We grew it here."

Beth takes a cautious sip. It's surprisingly sweet, and the savory smell of the steam rising from it curls into her sinuses. The aching in her head and neck begin to relax. It's unfamiliar, but it feels like home should, just like everything else here.

"Thanks," Beth says. On an impulse of craving closeness, she leans her head onto Mika's shoulder with a sigh. The sensation of contact deepens as Mika leans against her, too.

Beth holds the cup close, fingers wrapping around its warmth. She takes another sip and gets a bit of leaf stuck in her teeth. The way she scrunches up her face trying to dislodge it pulls a tiny laugh out of Mika.

“You don’t have to be okay here,” Mika whispers. “You can just be. That’s what we do.”

Beth finds her eyes wet again, but she smiles while she sets her mug down and wipes them away. “Kinda already wish I could stay here,” she says with a chuckle.

“... That’s probably not impossible.”

“Really?” Beth asks wryly. “Not even twenty-four hours, and you’d already be willing to put up with me?”

“Twenty-four hours and twenty-seven months.”

Beth melts a little even while waving the idea aside. “I wasn’t serious.”

“I know, but... weren’t you looking at the school here?”

“I mean, yeah, but... really, my mom just thought I deserved a break to get away for a little while. She’d saved up a bit, and I didn’t want to make it a big deal or anything, but she really wanted me to. She knew I wanted to come see you. Checking out the school was mostly an excuse. I know it’s a great place, but... I don’t really think it’ll help with what I wanna do.”

“What do you want to do?”

Beth sighs and leans back, looking at the ceiling. Mika follows her so that they’re still shoulder to shoulder, and pulls her feet up to tuck them in cross-legged.

She flounders for a moment, trying to find where to begin. She hasn’t told anyone this yet.

“This Leda crap has been kind of awful, right? It’s screwed so many of us up. But there’s only, what, a few hundred of us? And that’s not the only reason things get messed up.” She swallows. Her eyes trace irregularities in the ceiling: a knot in an exposed wooden beam here, a sealed and repainted crack there. “Kids like me are a dime a dozen. There’s so many people out there going through hell, just because they got stuck with people who are hurting so much that they hurt other people. And then they go on and hurt more people. It’s a cycle that’s really fucking hard to break.”

Breaths that have become harsh force her to pause and let them lengthen again. A touch on her knee draws her eyes down to a hand resting on it palm up, offering. Beth takes it. Mika squeezes her fingers in reassurance.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a cop like my dad, did you know that?” Mika, eyes wide, shakes her head. “Yeah. That was always my plan. I used to think he was so brave. Wanted to be just like him.” She shudders. Mika grips her hand, steady. “Even if I could do it better than he did, the system is still full of people like him. It’s broken. I couldn’t – I can’t end up like that. I can’t keep being a part of this shit. I want to actually help people.

“I never thought about it before I met you, but the people you brought in to do therapy programs and all for CYGNet? They’re amazing. The stuff I’ve gotten from them has helped me so much. And I don’t know what I’d do without my regular therapist. These people really help people like me. Like all of us. Those are the kind of people I wanna be like.”

Beth’s voice drops and becomes small and secretive, but firm. “I’ve been looking at the social work programs at home. There’s some really good ones at the uni near where mom and I live now. And that’s the city where I grew up. I know how things work there. I know it won’t be easy, but. I could really... do stuff.”

Silence stretches. Beth looks at Mika, only to be completely thrown off by an expression she can’t make heads or tails of. “What?”

Mika’s face is blank yet soft, only barely hinting at her thoughts in the faintest crinkling of her eyes. It’s funny, how quiet her face is most of the time. Beth never would have guessed, going off her online impressions of her. Mika’s so expressive and eloquent with her written words. In person, she is much more subtle. But even after only a day spent around her, Beth is already starting to see how her movements speak volumes in a language of their own. The flickering of her hands flares to life with excitement. The casual shake of her head tosses her hair out of her eyes even when it’s not in the way, like she’s clearing the slate of her mind. And much like Beth these days, she goes very still and tense when she’s getting uncomfortable or overwhelmed, the way she did after a particularly loud whistle at the train station. It shows in her shoulders. They’re soft now though, and she just watches Beth and squeezes her hand once more.

“You’re really amazing, you know,” Mika says.

“Wh- huh?”

“Well.” She looks away and turns their hands over, but doesn’t let go. “After the awful things you’ve been through – nnnh! Don’t pretend,” she says, looking back sharply as Beth begins to protest that she didn’t have it that bad. Mika knows her so well. Beth can’t help but laugh a little. “After all that, you just want to help people. All I ever want to do is get away from them, most of the time.”

Beth quirks a brow at her with a bemused grin. “Really? Because setting up and running an organization that provides mental health resources and extremely important information to a few hundred people is a really shit way to not help people.”

“I never talk to most of them! And CYGNet only has one hundred and thirteen members, not hundreds.”

Beth rolls her eyes with an exaggerated motion. “Yeah, so, you’ve somehow convinced, what, a whole freaking third of a huge group of scared strangers to trust you?”

“A lot of that was Niki and the press team, she’s way better at talking to people th–”

“And you’ve been careful enough and clever enough to keep them and all the information you got from DYAD safe and secure? I can’t even imagine the organization and, and cyber-security and whatever the hell else you put into all this. That you still put in. And look what you’ve done. You’re helping so many people. You found something only you could do, and do it really damn well.”

Mika looks down into her lap, half her face flushed. The raised ridges and swirls of the scarred side are pink, but not as dark. Her shoulders curl in a little, but she doesn’t pull her hand away from Beth’s. If anything, she holds on a little tighter.

“You don’t have to like talking to people to help them. You don’t have to be someone you’re not,” Beth says gently, then pauses as a new thought occurs to her. “Why did you talk to me?”

Mika gives a tiny shrug, eyes still downcast. “You reached out to me. Most people are scared, or suspicious, or hard to talk to, but you were just... honest. You told me exactly what you needed, even if that meant sharing your painful secrets with a stranger. I...” She trails off, looking toward the closed door of Niki’s bedroom. She blinks slowly.

“It reminded me of something Niki said a long time ago. When we first met. We didn’t trust each other at first. But when things got bad, we needed to, and she just... We’d only known each other for a day. She told me a true story that people had called her crazy for, and trusted me to believe her. And when I told her about... my Asperger’s, about being autistic, she just told me something about herself, too, another thing that a lot of people get cruel about when they know. This was back before she came out, too. She was hardly out to herself, then, really. But she told me anyway. ‘Secret for a secret,’ she said.”

“She’s really special to you.” It’s not a question. How could it be, with the sheer softness of love rounding out every syllable and making Mika melt into the couch and into Beth’s shoulder.

“She’s... yes. She’s my family.” Mika looks out the window, and the bright light dances over her nose. “I don’t remember ever having one.”

Beth slings an arm around Mika’s shoulders and smiles as she curls closer into Beth’s side. “Looks like you’re part of a pretty big one, now,” she says, waving a hand at the dozens of photos on the walls circling them.

“I guess so.”

“No need to guess. The evidence is right there. And I’m right here.”

Mika turns those huge eyes on her again. She’s done that multiple times now, even though Beth knows she rarely looks people in the eye. Eye contact is too much, most of the time. She describes it as too intense, too distracting, too intimate. Meeting those eyes – so like Beth’s own, but filled with such a different kind of light – Beth thinks she understands a glimmer of it. If every eye she met were as overwhelmingly expressive as Mika’s, Beth probably wouldn’t meet them all either. It keeps taking her by surprise, coming across their eloquence in an otherwise quiet face. Caught by that gaze, every emotion that lives in it touches Beth. Right now, it’s soft with adoration but shaded with a gradient of doubt. The width and depth of Mika’s eyes reveal a clear view of a vulnerable, aching, healing heart that spent eleven years starving for the love it needs and still hasn’t forgotten the famine.

It might be breaking Beth’s heart. No wonder Niki is always showering her with hugs and kind words and gentle hands on rounded shoulders. Maybe one of these days, Mika will have spent long enough finally getting to soak up all that affection that she won’t look at Beth like this when she says the simple truth.

“Hey. Here I am. Really.” Beth’s voice is a little choked up. She pulls Mika into a proper hug with both arms. Mika squeaks in surprise at being squeezed so emphatically, but returns it all the same. God, but she gives the best hugs of anyone Beth’s ever met. All contact and even, firm pressure and steadiness. “It’s so damn good to see you. I can’t believe you’re...” real, Beth thinks but doesn’t say. I can’t believe I didn’t imagine you. I can’t believe you’re just as kind as your words. I can’t believe how good it feels to be around you. “I can’t believe I’m really here.”

Mika doesn’t say anything. For a moment, one of her hands leaves Beth’s back to fiddle with something, then comes back to give her a little squeeze that Beth returns.

Beth’s phone buzzes a notification behind her on the little glass-top table next to the couch. The table’s wooden base is a round blob carved into the shape of a very fluffy and very ugly sheep with curly horns. Beth’s arms loosen from their embrace as she turns to look at it, bemused. No one but Mika really messages her except for her mom. But if it’s morning here, it’s about time for bed at home. She checks it, just to be sure she’s okay.

But it’s not from her mom.

Mika reaches out to gently grasp her forearm again as Beth shoots her a quizzical look and opens the message.

3mika: I'm glad you're here.

Beth's heart quails.

To think, that her darker days might have kept her from ever being in this moment. Beth might never have gotten to this point, hurt but healing and here. Here, she's seven time zones and an ocean away from the cycle of pain she grew up in, barely aware she needed to escape. She might well feel safer right here in this crossroads of time and place than she has at any other in her entire life. It's a realization that's as humbling as it is nourishing.

Already, the distance this journey has taken her has given her so much perspective. She wasn’t sure, before, whether the work she’s been considering was just a response to what she’s been through – or just a way for the cycle to keep her within its spiral. But she’s seen what Mika can do, what Beth could do one day, if she keeps on.

It won’t be easy. She’ll go back, and deep-seated memories will try to drag her back into small dark places. But being here, even for only a few hours, has already changed her. She can change, and she can grow, and she is already tapping into new strengths that her past has yet to reckon with. She is here, right now, in spite of all of it. And today is not a dark day.

“Me too, Mika. I’m glad to be here, too.” Beth’s tongue stumbles over the name, because she’s never said it out loud before, only read it on a screen.

Surprise sends Mika’s eyebrows up and her eyes wide again, like she’s never heard it before, either. Maybe she hasn’t. She tilts her head again like a question, touching her ear and looking at Beth.

Beth grins. “Mika.” A smile blooms on that curious face, lighting it up. She’s the one who pulls Beth into a hug this time, and it’s both fierce and soft. When she lets go, she leans into Beth’s side again and they stay like that, arms over shoulders and comfortably curled up together, soaking in the warmth of each other’s presence like leaves drink in light. The simple sweetness and companionship of it soothes Beth’s heart, seeking its way into the aching crevices. It’s an odd feeling, both seeping inward and flowing outward, trickling all the way through her until it warms her cold toes in a way that feels both new and strangely familiar.

A long, sleepy yawn announces that Niki’s awake now, too. Soon, she comes out of her room stretching her arms over her head. Mika reaches a hand out toward her to wave in greeting, though she leaves the other arm draped over Beth’s shoulders. Niki smiles at them. That kind smile, too, adds to the warmth washing through Beth. Her feet practically itch with it, and with a growing sensation of déja vu. She fidgets her toes against the floor as Niki walks over to brush Mika’s outstretched hand like a touchstone.

“How'd you sleep? Isn’t that couch the comfiest?” she says to Beth.

“Well, I’ve got a crick in my neck, but I still slept better than I have in years.”

Niki turns her sunny smile on Beth. “Good to hear it. Weird, though, I nap there all the time and my neck’s always fine. Huh. Anyway, I think I might make waffles. You two want some breakfast?”

Mika nods, but doesn’t let go of Beth yet. Beth is lost in thought, trying to remember what that light, floating feeling in her feet reminds her of.

“Sweet.” Niki ambles toward the kitchen and bends down with pursed lips to peer at the fern perched on the counter. “Hmm. You still look a little pale. Let’s get you some more sun.” She brings the plant over to the living room and is fussing over settling it on the sheep table when it clicks for Beth. A physical memory washes over her, for once welcome. She lets it fill her, refreshing like a deep breath of cold morning air her lungs are suddenly hungry for. She flexes her calves and ankles, her legs remembering the joy and freedom of stride and strike. Her bones are finally recalling how they once carried her with ease, even while they're adjusting to the new weight of who she's become. Fully alive again for at least this moment, her soles are practically prickling with the desire to eat up ground.

“How about you, Beth? Do you like waffles?” Niki asks, fluffing the fern’s crinkly green leaves. Mika squeezes her shoulder.

Beth grins and plants steady feet on the blue rug in front of the couch. “Save a few for me? I think I might actually go for a run first.”

#orphan black #clone club #veera suominen #beth childs #niki lintula #mk ob #mika ob #herbs on the windowsill au #lizzie taking up space #lizzie's adventures in writing #welcome back yall #long post #fic #ob fic #that a garden will grow

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