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stuff-from-the-void-matron · 3 years

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Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (7)

(c!Technoblade x fem!Reader)

(I know y’all are getting tired of waiting for Techno to arrive, so am I! But I have no solid control over the story plot lol but I swear it’ll happen soon!! And y’all know the drill! Reblogs and comments keep this story going. So if you want a chapter 8 then please show this chapter some love! <3)

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(FORGOT TO MENTION ART!

The amazing 'YeetUsFeTUSDelETusss' on DA was so cool and drew two pictures to bless our eyes!!)

READER HERSELF!

READER PROTECTING HER BOYS!

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Only Tubbo showed up the next day, and he said he sadly couldn’t stay for long because him and Tommy were needed back at L’manburg for a while. Meaning him and Tommy wouldn’t be able to visit for a bit, but they’d try to visit as soon as possible! Hearing they’d not come see you for who knows how long made you pretty sad. You honestly looked forward to when they’d visit. It was honestly the highlight of your day. But you knew whatever nonsense was going on in L’manburg currently would need their attention. Though you wondered what exactly was going on. You recalled a decent amount of the ‘history’ of the Dream SMP but you knew you could be misremembering or even mixing things up. But you did remember the big things that happened. Like the wars and stuff. So needless to say you were concerned.

‘What point in history am I in right now? Whenever it is, L’manburg is apparently still standing,’ you thought pensively before asking Tubbo what was going on that they’d need to stay in L’manburg.

Tubbo sighed and said it was ‘just some drama’ but apparently their, meaning his and Tommy’s, older brother figure Wilbur had been president of L’manburg for the entirety of the time L’manburg had existed. But some new citizens who joined them found out he’d not been properly elected and didn’t think it was fair to everyone that Wilbur had basically just made himself president without any input from everyone else. Which you could see was not right but this information told you that you were in the pre-election time. Which meant Schlatt and Quackity hadn’t won yet… But that hinged on this universe even being the same one that you’d watched on youtube. Things could be different here for all you knew. You’d always believed in the multiverse theory so who was to know WHICH universe this was. Or how you even got here. All you could do really was to just… wait and watch.

A couple hours passed during the short visit and towards the end Tubbo showed you how to message others, ie; him and Tommy mostly. You’d known how to message others and put in commands and stuff in regular minecraft but you’d just sort of never thought to try those things here in this place. Though to be fair you’d been dealing with a lot of stuff so fiddling with your inventory and everything hadn’t been your top priority. And when he’d mentioned messaging him your first thought had been ‘how?’, because this was a ‘real life’ minecraft, where things were very similar but not always exactly like how it was in the real game. The biggest difference being that there was no computer keyboard or ‘screen’ for the type/chat option to be at the bottom of like in the game.

But to your surprise the place to type in a message was actually IN your inventory. More specifically it was at the very bottom of the main section right below where your items were stored in the hot bar. You’d never paid the long ultra thin box at the bottom any mind, assuming it was just part of the weird design. But no, Tubbo showed you with his inventory how if you tap on the thin box (that you’d honestly thought was just a line) it expands into a typing window! Your eyes widened at that and watched as he tapped the typing box again and a little keyboard appeared below the typing box and he started typing something into it. You squinted and he said to message someone you needed to be sure to type ‘/msg’ and then whoever’s name you’d like to send the message to!

He demonstrated this by typing out the first part then right after it typing your ‘name’; aka Reader. Briefly you wondered why it had been made that but you brushed that thought away to focus on what Tubbo was doing. You saw him type ‘hi reader!!’ before hitting Enter. Then a second later you heard a soft ‘ping!’ sound and you just KNEW your inventory was waiting to be pulled up. Like knew in an instinctual sense. Like how you knew to blink or how to walk. Just an instinct you couldn’t explain so you brought it up and there at the bottom the ‘line’ was flashing a pale red. So you did what Tubbo had done and tapped it, revealing the little typing box. Only this time it had a message in it! It said, ‘Tubbo whispers to you: hi reader!!’ and you smile. Excited now you type out a message to him and hit send. He got it and laughed after he read it.

‘Reader whispered to you: hello my little goat boy!! :)’

After that he blinked when more messages popped onto his text box. These were from Tommy and Wilbur it looked like. With a sigh he checked his clock and dismissed his chat box before saying he was sorry but he had to get going. He’d actually stayed longer than he was supposed to. You were sad to see him go but knew he’d be back, and hey, now you could message him and Tommy to make sure they got back to L’manburg safe instead of just wondering like before. So you told him to be careful on his way back and to message you that he was safe home when he arrived, and also if he needed any help. He laughed and cheekily said he would but gave a shy smile when you pulled him into a hug and gently knocked your antlers with his horns, but he happily returned it. Not so secretly enjoying the affection. But he had to pull back and leave.

That left you to your own devices.

-0-

With nothing better to do you initially spent the next three days building a couple fountains in the village (which was getting pretty big..). One tiny frog shaped one in the little grotto at the west side of the village and a much larger more traditional one in the opposite side of the village. You’d even set up park benches, flower plots, lamp posts, and stone sidewalk around the bigger one. It was very pretty and the villagers seemed to be enjoying it. But after that was done you’d sorta gotten bored. You weren’t really inspired to do anything else to the village so you thought of ways to occupy yourself. Eventually a metaphorical lightbulb flickered to life above your head and you got an idea.

You could go to the Nether!

Sure you weren’t the biggest fan of the place but it beat sitting around twiddling your thumbs waiting for a reply from your only two friends like some loser. And hey, you liked giving piglins gold. They made cute little piggy snorts when they were happy. So with that loose plan in mind you got up from where you’d been lounging by the creek and brushed yourself off before heading out to the place outside the bamboo and prickle berry wall you’d placed the first Nether portal. You crafted one real quick before tensing up when you heard the sound of rustling behind you. Assuming it was a creeper or something you glanced back, not that it would hurt you but you still found it unsettling for anything to be sneaking up behind you. You caught a brief glimpse of something small and white disappearing into a cluster of ferns. You paused, wondering what it was but then about a block to the left of the ferns a chicken and her chick walked out from around a tree. ‘Oh, must have just been a baby chicken’, you thought with a mental shrug before turning back to your task of lighting the portal with your flint and steel.

Once activated you stepped into the purple swirling mist and your vision warped before you ended up in the Nether again, stifling heat and all.

-0-

You’d been exploring the Nether for what felt like hours. The place was goddamn enormous! You’d followed the same sand block trail from the last time you’d been here, seeing the piglins and a few striders along the way. And to your delight a familiar little piglin baby started following you. She (you think she’s a ‘she’, that’s the vibe you’re getting anyways) had to be the one you’d played with the last time you’d been in the Nether. You crouched down and patted her head and pulled a golden carrot from your inventory before gifting it to her. She squealed happily and munched on it. You kept walking along the sand path before reaching the fortress. That’s when you diverted your path to the right and started exploring that way, careful to keep laying down sand as you did. You thought the baby piglin had stayed back but after a while of walking you heard a soft snort and glanced down to the left of you to see her happily trotting along with you, still nibbling on the golden carrot.

You wanted to melt, she was such a cutie pie. You stopped and asked if she should be travelling so far away. Won’t her parents miss her? She blinks and seems to understand you before shaking her head ‘no’. You figure she must have some pretty lenient parents. But you suppose piglins are sturdier than humans so it makes sense they’d keep their kids on a looser leash than humans would. So you ask her where her parents are and if they’d be okay with her wandering off with you, a stranger. She tilts her head and shrugs. You purse your lips and ask if she can take you to her parents so you can ask if they’d be okay with it. This time she shakes his head no. So you ask her why and she seems to be thinking how to answer before she goes over to the closest block of sand and starts drawing in it. You look over her shoulder and see her drawing three hearts. Then your stomach sinks when you see her draw an ‘X’ over each heart, meaning one thing..

“Oh sweetie, did your parents lose all their lives?” you ask in a gentle tone.

The tiny piglin nodded and your heart broke for her. You asked some more questions and discovered she wasn’t really being taken care of by any one piglin. The other piglins knew her parents were gone so they’d sorta chip in to make sure she had food. But that was really it. This made you feel worse so you just sighed and patted her head and said she could join you while you explored the Nether. She snorted happily and you two continued on your way. Eventually after walking for a bit you came across a warped forest. You had to admit the biome was much prettier in person. The stark contrast between the Nether’s usual red color scheme and the teal of the warped forest was really beautiful. Even the weird little green/orange fungus that were growing everywhere were cute. You even picked a handful to keep, placing them in your inventory before continuing your little jaunt with the baby piglin.

That last thought made you mentally pause and realize that you couldn’t just keep calling this kid ‘baby piglin’. So you stopped walking and looked down before saying you forgot to introduce yourself. She could call you Reader (since that’s what your little name thing said..). Then you asked what her name was. She blinked before snorting a little, like she was clearing her throat, and said, “Azogamay.”

You smiled and said you liked her name, making her give a cute little tusked smile. Then as you continued exploring you both made small talk. Nothing deep (how deep could conversation get with a little kid) but you asked each other the usual questions. Like favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite animals, etc. Then Azo (you’d taken to shortening her name to make it easier) answered one of your questions with some gibberish that made you pause. You glanced down at her and gave a ‘huh?’ that made her giggle before apparently remembering you weren’t a piglin. She said she forgot and spoke Piglin. That made you raise your eyebrows because you’d never thought about other species in the game having their own language. But now that you were thinking about it, it totally made sense. Of course they would, duh. Now very curious you asked her to teach you a little! Like did she know how your name would be said in Piglin? Her answer surprised you…

“Eaderray!” she said in her quiet baby voice.

Now you two had entered a wide soul sand valley, which made Azo anxious. She hid behind your leg, making you recall that Piglins didn’t really spawn in this biome or like soul fire (which is super common here). You had to admit the place was rather creepy. It didn’t help that the soul sand beneath your feet was emitting a rather creepy whispery wail. So you decided to turn back and try another direction. Azo seemed relieved and trotted along behind you. But once you were walking again you remembered your last thought and had a vague feeling about this ‘piglin speak’ and wanted to hear more. So you asked Azo some other words, just to test this theory of yours. And well…

Skeleton? Eletonskay…

Blaze? Azeblay…

Strider? Iderstray…

Lava? Avalay...

Gold? ...Oldgay (that may have made you snicker).

But you got the idea and honestly you cannot be held accountable for your reaction after you realized Piglins honest to fucking god spoke PIG LATIN.

You lost it. You laughed so hard you doubled over and had to brace your hands on your knees to keep from collapsing onto the ground. Azo didn’t know what was so funny but your laughter was contagious and she ended up laughing too, intermixed with little snorts that made you laugh even harder. It was a whole cycle. And by the end of it you’d laughed so hard you started coughing and had to sit down to catch your breath. The giggles returned a couple times but eventually you got control over yourself enough to be able to breathe normally again. As you sat there, little Azo looking up at you in amusement, you couldn’t believe the absolute batshit nonsense that was happening in your life right now. But out of everything that had happened, you think finding out Piglins spoke pig latin had to be the funniest. Though you wanted to test your theory further so you said to Azo,

“Ellohay Azogamay, isyay isthay ightray?”

Azo’s eyes brightened and she perked up, looking close to bouncing from excitement as she realized you were speaking ‘Piglin’ to her. She started babbling at the speed of light, in a way that all excited toddlers seemed to be able to do. While it was cute enough to pull a chuckle from you the downside was that you could not understand a single word Azo said. You got her to slow down, telling her you didn’t speak Piglin fluently so she would have to go slow with you otherwise you’d be lost. She nodded, just happy that you could understand Piglin. So she slowed down a lot and chatted with you that way. And that’s pretty much how the rest of your time in the Nether went. You traversed through the hellish dimension and brushed up on your pig latin with the little piglin.

It has definitely been a LONG time since you’d even thought about the made up ‘language’. You’d had a friend in elementary school who had been Obsessed with it. It was all they spoke sometimes and they’d talked it up so much that it caught on with the rest of the class, yourself included, and soon everyone was using it to write notes to each other, like a secret language. You’d even speak to each other only in pig latin during recess and lunch breaks. You’d been fluent in it and didn’t even have to think before speaking. Though after a year it had lost its popularity and everyone slowly stopped using it since the fad was over. But you still remembered a good deal of it. Enough to speak it slowly anyways. But the more you used it the easier it was to speak it. It was like riding a bike you supposed, you never truly forgot it.

-0-

Things were going fine until they weren’t. You’d stopped to have lunch in a crimson forest, more for Azo’s benefit than your own, and were sitting and eating for a while before Azo started playing with a baby hoglin. Which had been fine, you’d seen baby piglins and hoglins do that in the game before, no biggie. But they’d gotten rambunctious the way kids do when they’re playing together. And while chasing each other around Azo had smacked into one of the adult hoglins, which had pissed it off enough for it to snarl angrily and start chasing Azo. And Azo in turn began squealing in fear while running away. You’d dropped the steak you’d been idly munching on and sprinted after the two. Sadly the hoglin was closer to Azo than you and managed to get one good hit in with its tusks, the force behind it practically yeeting Azo up into the air. You yelled in horror as you watched the baby piglin fall down into a lava filled ravine.

Panic flooded your body, you knew zombie piglins were fireproof but regular piglins were not as far as you knew. Let alone baby piglins who just took a direct hit from a damn hoglin. So without thinking about it you dove into the ravine after Azo, catching her in your arms and fully planning to hold her up above the lava since it wouldn’t hurt you. Once she was in your arms you jerked back instinctively, not sure why, just maybe bracing for the impact with the lava. You waited but… nothing. About that second you realized that you weren’t moving anymore. You’d come to a halt and at first you wondered if maybe you’d landed on a block and not noticed. But… one glance down revealed you were not in fact standing on a block. Actually you weren’t standing on anything. You were hovering about 3 or 4 blocks above the bubbling lava at the bottom of the ravine. You were so stunned that you almost missed the sniffling snorts that started up next to your face but thankfully they broke you out of your shocked state. You looked at Azo and your heart broke when you saw her tearing up and looking close to crying. Forgetting momentarily about whatever the fuck was going on with you floating you focused on soothing her.

“Aw sweetie, are you okay? You took a hit from that hoglin, where does it hurt?” you cooed.

She was babbling mostly, being too upset to try to speak English. And understanding crying pig latin was almost impossible. So you just asked her to point where it hurt. She reached for her back and side and you softly told her you were going to lift her shirt a little bit to see if there was a mark, and she nodded shakily and sniffled while you did. You winced at the blooming bruise and adjusted her so you were basically cradling her and with your free hand you opened your inventory and started looking through the potions. You grabbed a healing potion and uncorked it before offering it to Azo, whose snout wrinkled at the potion. You told her it was alright, it was a healing potion that would make her feel better and get rid of those bruises for her. She looked unsure but still let you raise the mouth of the potion bottle to her lips so she could sip it. She took a few sips before hiccuping, potion swirls wafting off of her after she did. The baby piglin blinked and felt the pain in her back and side start to disappear.

You smiled and said that must feel better, Azo nodded and was happy she wasn’t hurting anymore. You let her take one more sip for good measure before putting the cork back into the bottle and stashing it in your inventory. But once that was done you were reminded of your current predicament. You were still floating in place above a ravine of lava.. With zero clue on how to move too. Briefly you internally panicked at the thought of just.. never being able to move again!! Being stuck fixed in one spot forever with no way to get down or live freely! Though before you could panic further you took a deep breath and told yourself to relax. This wasn’t permanent, it couldn’t be. There logically has to be a way for you to move. You got yourself stuck here and you’ll get yourself down as well.

And the last thing you wanted was to look scared with Azo here with you. She was just a little kid and needed the only adult around to be strong for her. So you put on a smile and reassured her that things will be okay and you’ll figure out how to get them both safe on land in no time. Azo nodded, looking less worried than before. So you started trying things you think would get you to move. You could move your limbs no problem. Proven by how you could move Azo around with your arms and kick your legs about without issue. But your body as a whole was still locked in place. Though when you leaned your upper body to the left you hit a breakthrough! Tilting your torso to the left managed to move your whole body to the left by about a block and a half! Now onto the right path you started leaning your torso this way and that, figuring out what movements actually got you moving and which ones didn’t. Figuring out how to move side to side and forwards and back was pretty easy. But it was figuring out up and down that was tricky.

At the moment going down was the last thing you were interested in, what with the lava beneath you. So you tried focusing on going up, and after a lot more wiggling about that you were sure made you look like an idiot to anyone who could be watching (Azo only giggled a little) you finally figured out that to go up you had to tense and stretch your torso a specific way. Like exactly how you would do if you were trying to reach something on the top shelf, only you didn’t have to move your arms or legs the same way, just your torso. Like how people straighten themselves to seem taller, not slouching at all. After getting that down you manage to go up and then over out of the ravine. Which was a relief and a half. Now that the threat of sinking into lava wasn’t a worry you instead fixated on getting down. Thanks to figuring out how to get up you had an easier time getting the hang of getting down.

Once your feet touched the ground the floating thing disappeared and gravity was restored to you, making you able to walk around normally again. You gave a small cheer, Azo snorting happily as you carried her back to your spot on one of the crimson mushroom tree tops. Once seated you let out a breath and felt your shoulders relax. You hadn’t even been aware they’d been so tense, but you guess it made sense what with how you just sorta had a weird physics related mishap. But now that you and little Azo were safe you felt like you could breathe again.

You took a golden apple out of your inventory and took a bite, the sweet juice soothing your metaphorical ruffled feathers. You noticed you mostly just eat for the taste now. Which was fine you guessed. When you glanced down you held the apple close to Azo’s face, asking in semi-good piglin if she wanted a bite, chuckling when she eagerly sunk her little teeth into the sweet fruity flesh of it. You gave her the rest and just watched the other Nether inhabitants mill about peacefully. Today had been a wild ride for sure. At least compared to your usual peaceful days. You leaned back against the lump of red fungus behind you, Azo cradled in your arms, and sighed calmly. You’d been ready to rest your eyes when you heard a soft ‘ping!’ that had you blinking back into focus. It was your communicator app thing. Thinking it was just Tubbo messaging you to say goodnight or something you casually opened the message. But when you did you raised an eyebrow at the note from your kid.

‘Tubbo whispers to you: the election is tomorrow afternoon, can you come?

‘Tubbo whispers to you: i’ve got a bad feeling.. i’m not trying to pull you into our mess’

‘Tubbo whispers to you: but idk i’d feel better if you were there.’

You had a bad feeling too… You hoped what you likely knew was going to happen DIDN’T happen but.. it probably was. So you sent back a quick reply to Tubbo.

‘You whisper to Tubbo: of course I will! you can show me around your home! :)

You tried to keep your reply upbeat and happy, not wanting to feed into the teenager’s worry. Even though you were probably more worried now that he was. But regardless.

It looked like you were visiting L’manburg.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #c!techno #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt x reader #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!wilbur #piglin #piglin oc

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solangelover · 3 years

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Nyctophobia

A/N: Haven’t written in FOREVER but this was done a while back for the @after-everything-pjo-zine ! It’s out now, free download! Please check it out and support the other content creators who put a lot of effort into the zine. I had art done for my fic by @kalytera and it is EXCELLENT please check it out!

Read on AO3 or FF.net

Nico sprinted after the monster, directly into the forest.

He had been on border patrol and let the son of Hermes working with him leave early. They hadn’t had any monster activity in months and the kid looked like a zombie. Nico didn’t have too much sympathy for him, though, as he knew Cecil and his siblings were gearing up for some big prank. But still, Nico was more than powerful enough to take on a monster or two on his own. Not that he expected any action.

Of course, he was wrong.

In the darkness of the night, Nico saw something moving in the woods just beyond the border. He knew whatever it was couldn’t actually get in, but it was so close that Nico decided to go ahead and get rid of it. He had been itching for action anyway. The moment he stepped outside the border, the monster shot out of the trees. Luckily, Nico had his guard up and quickly rolled out of the way. The monster slammed into the camp border and whipped back around to Nico.

It was hard to make out what monster Nico was facing, but he didn’t care too much. It just looked like a giant badger of some kind. Not giant as in a Giant giant, but very abnormally large for a badger. Nothing major, Nico had faced down the worst of the worst in his life. This was a plaything in comparison.

“Let’s go, big guy.” Nico readied his sword. The monster lunged again, and this time Nico hoisted his shield to block the teeth, standing his ground. He swung out with his sword and grazed the badger’s cheek, causing it to flinch to the right and back off. Nico used the shadows to hide himself as he circled around the monster’s left side. It swiveled around looking for him, taking a second too long as Nico darted forward and stabbed it in the side. The creature screeched, flailing around and knocking him over with its tail. With a grunt, he fell to the ground, his sword skittering away from him. The monster, however, did not turn back to attack like he expected. It must not have been as invested in the fight as Nico was, because it began running back into the forest where it came from.

“Wha—hey!” Nico was affronted. He wanted that fight, and he was winning.

So here he was, chasing a giant badger in the dark woods. After running for 5 minutes, Nico realized that he had lost the beast. How, honestly, he didn’t know. He must’ve been out of practice. Or maybe the badger burrowed underground. He didn’t know how he’d missed a giant hole in the ground, but either way, he was annoyed.

The next thing he realized was that he was lost. Again, how he could get lost so quickly literally right past the camp border, Nico was at a loss. He was really out of practice.

Nico spun around, trying to see if anything looked familiar. Just trees and darkness. He tried to figure out which way he came from, but he got turned around. The adrenaline from before began to leak out of his body as his situation set in.

Nico was lost. Out in the woods. Outside of camp. In the darkness of night.

Well, okay, Nico tried to reason with himself. No problem, just shadow travel.

Except he hadn’t gotten the clearance from one Doctor Solace yet. But this was a bit of an emergency situation, so it was probably fine.

I mean, this isn’t actually that urgent, a voice in Nico’s head said. Just walk in one direction and you’ll probably hit camp.

Nico nodded to himself. He could try that. Why was he even worried anyway? He was looking for action—being stuck in the woods was the best way to find it. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d run into the badger beast and get to finish the job. So, he started walking.

And kept walking.

And walking.

Nico lost track of time and his steps, but it felt like an eternity. His breathing was coming out in short puffs, the cool air revealing each breath. His heart was beginning to race, though he wasn’t sure why. He was only walking. His eyes darted around, at first out of caution, but it slowly felt more and more like paranoia.

It felt like the darkness was pressing in on him from all sides.

His body started to tremble as he walked faster, but Nico knew this feeling.

He was scared.

A son of Hades, afraid of the dark. Ridiculous.

But he couldn’t help it. He felt its cold tendrils snaking up his back, making his hair stand on end. Dark fingers were curling around his throat. His breathing was shallow, and too fast, but he couldn’t seem to draw a full breath. His hands flew to his hair, tugging at it as he tried to ground himself. He realized he had stopped walking, just standing in a small clearing of trees, head spinning.

He was fine. He was in the forest, he’d been there a million times, it’s no different than in the daytime. It was fine. He was fine.

But he knew he wasn’t. He could almost hear the whispering voices, feel the tug where the shadows fell upon him. They wanted to take him from this world into the world of darkness. Maybe that was his world, not this one filled with light. Maybe they were right.

No, he thought. He couldn’t give in—he’d been through too much to give in. But isn’t that the reason he belonged in the shadows? Darkness and death followed him everywhere—maybe he wasn’t supposed to run from it.

Nico’s heart was pounding, his blood rushing in his ears. He belatedly realized that he had collapsed to the ground. The world swayed before his eyes. He was barely drawing in breath, his chest felt locked tight like something was constricting his lungs. Nico squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears track down his cheeks.

Seriously? Here? Now?

Somehow, Nico’s thoughts were racing and yet, his mind was blank. The whispers were growing louder, buzzing through his head in an unintelligent stream of sounds. He could feel the darkness closing in on him, feel his consciousness slipping away.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t do anything.

Suddenly, a sharp pain cut through Nico’s haze and made him cry out.

His body moved on instinct. Nico’s eyes flew open and he rolled into a crouched position. With a groan, he fell back down to his knees, gasping for air that his lungs so desperately needed. As his vision cleared of black spots, he finally looked down and noticed the fresh blood gushing from his thigh. His head whipped up just in time for him to dodge a swipe from the same badger monster from before.

Nico had never been so relieved to see a monster.

With the pain in his leg sharpening his focus, Nico gathered his energy and pushed up, suppressing a scream as his leg protested the movement. He drew his sword once more, still drawing in large gulps of air. The badger snarled and lunged once more. Nico quickly sidestepped and swung down with his sword, slicing the outstretched leg of the monster. It howled in pain, tumbling to the ground before staggering to its feet and retreating back into the woods.

Nico wasn’t planning to give chase, until he heard a large thump and another screech from the monster. He limped in the direction it ran to see that the badger had slammed into an invisible barrier. The camp border! Nico nearly cried with relief, completely ignoring the monster as it scurried away from him. Once he stumbled past the border, Nico fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He could see the lights of camp. They stood out against the darkness of the night, reminding Nico that he was still shrouded in shadows with his back barely within the camp border.

He scrambled to his feet, feeling blood trickle down his leg and soak his sock. He used his sword to prop himself up as he limped forward, refusing to look down at his wound, which was probably bleeding more than he’d like. While he knew logically that his injury made his progress slow, Nico couldn’t help but feel like the shadows were pulling him back. It was like before, when he would shadow travel and almost get stuck in-between destinations. The voices were whispering again, trying to lure him into the darkness where he belonged. His vision was beginning to fade, black spots dancing before his eyes. He knew it was the pain and blood loss, he knew that. But it scared him because what if it was him? What if he was fading again? What if he disappeared in the night and no one knew?

Nico’s heart was pounding, which was not good for all the blood still gushing from his wound. His foot hit something, and he pitched forward, falling hard on the wooden steps of the Big House. He moaned loudly, unable to contain his pain and fear.

He distantly heard the door creak open and felt someone kneel beside his head. Nico was sure he was nearly hyperventilating, both from physical exertion and panic. He couldn’t hear anything being said. Then, there were hands on him, and he desperately shook them off, afraid of being pulled into shadows.

Then, a sudden warmth washed through his body.

The air rushed out of Nico as his entire body relaxed, his head falling back not onto the hard wood like he expected, but into gentle hands that cradled him carefully. As his breathing steadied, he peeked up to see blue eyes gazing down at him with concern, blonde hair falling down and framing a freckled face.

Nico saw Will’s lips move, but no sound reached his ears before his eyes slipped shut.

---

Nico woke the next morning to the familiar sight of white walls and sunlight streaming in through the window. He sighed, disappointed he landed himself in the infirmary for the millionth time, before he remembered the events of the previous night.

Nico was suddenly very alert, his heart rate jumping immediately as he sat upright in bed. He shoved the sheets back to inspect the wound on his thigh. It was wrapped up in white bandages, but no blood was showing through. Will must’ve been able to heal it closed, or at least stitch it up well. Nico tested moving his leg around a bit, surprised that it really didn’t hurt at all. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, willing his heart to slow down.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” Nico’s head jerked up at the sound of the son of Apollo’s voice. Will strolled in front of Nico’s bed, looking down at his clipboard as he scribbled something down. Then he looked up and locked eyes with his patient.

Nico gulped. Will didn’t seem too happy to see him.

Before Nico could say anything, Will glanced down at his injury and said, “I fixed it up as much as I could. The wound wasn’t too deep. The blood loss was the worst of it, which is why you’re hooked up to an IV.” He gestured at the item, which Nico hadn’t even noticed in the few minutes he’d been up.

Nico nodded, leaning back against his pillow for a moment. He subtly tensed his muscles, assessing his physical condition for himself. Overall, he felt alright, just tired. It was probably the blood loss and… the other things that happened last night. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was like he could still feel the cold darkness lingering under his skin. His sense of panic out in the forest sat in the back of his head, keeping him from fully relaxing.

Will walked around the side of Nico’s bed, sitting in the chair and putting his clipboard to the side. “Nico…”

Nico knew that tone. The tone of a concerned friend, the tone of someone who wants to talk about things Nico really did not want to talk about. It always turned out to be a good thing when he talked with Will, but he couldn’t ignore his initial reaction of get away, especially not after last night. “Thanks for healing me, Solace.”

Will just looked at him, concern and worry evident in his eyes alone. Nico looked away quickly, unable to take that look without spilling his guts, which he most definitely did not want to do in this moment.

The medic nodded, not that Nico saw, and said, “Of course. You know I’m always here for you, Nico.” The son of Hades knew Will was trying to get more out of him, but he just couldn’t—wouldn’t—talk. Not right now.

Will seemed to get the hint. “You’re probably tired. The few hours of sleep you got isn’t enough to recover from your blood loss. You should get some rest,” he said reluctantly.

Nico glanced up as Will stood to leave, relieved when Will smiled down at him. At least he wasn’t mad that Nico wasn’t talking. He probably knew, to some degree, that there was more going on here than a monster attack.

Nico nodded back in silent gratitude for Will’s understanding.

“I’ll be back to check on you later.”

Will pulled the curtains closed around Nico’s bed, and Nico was alone. He could feel his mind beginning to buzz with thoughts and anxieties, so he quickly shook his head. The dark-haired boy shuffled further down into the infirmary bed, shutting his mind up and giving into the exhaustion he felt. If anything, he’d at least get a good rest out of this whole situation.

---

Nico woke up sometime in the afternoon, the sun shining in the sky. He sat up slowly, feeling out his body. His muscles ached a bit, probably from pushing himself while injured last night, but otherwise, he felt alright. The wound on his thigh throbbed dully. Pushing his sheets back, he saw that his bandages were still white, meaning it was mostly healed, thanks to Will’s magic.

The son of Hades glanced around. His curtains were still closed, and the infirmary sounded pretty quiet around him.

Nico paused for a few seconds.

Then promptly swung his legs off his bed and planted his feet on the floor.

He knew he shouldn’t leave, not without Will clearing him first. Will would not be happy with him (he knew from experience). But he could feel his nerves sparking under his skin, anxiety and fear sticking with him even through his nap. He didn’t want to be trapped in the white walls of the infirmary when Will eventually found him.

So, he stood up, shook himself out, and tried to look casual as he strolled toward the doors of the infirmary.

“Hey—wait!”

Nico glanced back, seeing a young child of Apollo nervously approach. “You—I mean, you can’t—can’t leave…?” She sounded so uncertain, Nico almost felt bad. Almost.

“Oh, it’s fine. I was just resting until I felt ready to leave.” He decided to leave Will out of this because lying to his sister felt a bit too much like betrayal.

Before the girl could reply, he opened the door and left.

Nico headed straight for the arena, intending to work out some of his excess energy so that he could go back to his cabin and fall right back asleep. He wasn’t even limping on his previously wounded leg, which he took as a good sign. He also reasoned that, considering a monster got the best of him, he should get to training as soon as possible.

He chose to ignore all the other thoughts pulsing in the back of his mind.

(Darkness, fear, shadows, don’t belong don’t belong don’t belong—)

Only ten minutes of swinging around a sword passed before, “Nico di Angelo.”

Nico winced at the tone. He lowered his sword and looked over at the entrance to the practice area, only to lock eyes with a stern (and frankly, intimidating) son of Apollo.

He knew better than to ignore the healer, so he waited as Will stalked over. The other boy crossed his arms tightly, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Nico cast about for some kind of response, but he knew there was nothing he could say in this moment to justify his actions. Not without diving into the details of his monster encounter, which he didn’t exactly feel up to doing.

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, Nico simply shrugged, eyes darting off to the side. He heard Will blow out a frustrated breath. Meanwhile, the son of Hades distracted himself with the rocks at his feet.

“Nico,” Will said, in that same knowing tone as before. Nico nervously adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword before sheathing it, if only to give his mind something else to focus on for a few seconds. There was silence for a moment before Will continued. “I’m not mad at you.”

At that, Nico glanced up at the healer. He could see it, in the soft blue of Will’s eyes, that he was being honest. Nico had seen Will angry—usually not at him, but Nico had pulled stupid stunts in the past—and this wasn’t it. This was concern and genuine care. Nico was always waiting for Will to stop caring, to stop reaching out to him, but he never had, and he was beginning to think he never would.

The dark-haired boy nodded, unsure of what he should say. When it was clear Nico was not going to respond verbally, Will spoke again. “Something happened out there.” His eyebrows creased in concern when Nico stiffened. “You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to. But I want to help you, Nico. I saw you last night. You were… scared. Terrified. And I know it wasn’t from whatever monster attacked you. That’s not you.”

Nico gave himself a second to think about it, before blurting out, “I’m afraid of the dark.”

Both boys looked surprised, a moment of silence passing between them.

Nico expected to be judged, to be mocked. He knew it was Will, and Will wouldn’t do that. But hearing it out loud, it was laughable, at least to Nico. He could see the irony. He was Prince of the Underworld, the Ghost King. But he couldn’t help it.

“That’s—” Will started, then shook his head, starting over. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Nico.”

The son of Hades scoffed. “Sorry for what? That I’m a coward? It’s not your problem, Solace.” He looked away, shaking his hair so it covered his eyes.

“Nico…”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Will said firmly. “I mean, it is. Ugh, I mean, it’s okay to be afraid of things. Everyone has their fears.”

“I’m the son of Hades. I exist in the darkness. I literally use the shadows to move around!”

Nico waited for Will to say more, unsure of what he wanted the other boy to say.

“Nico, please look at me,” Will pleaded.

Nico sighed, and peeked up at Will through his hair. He was met with an understanding gaze and a gentle smile.

“You’re not any less of a warrior for your fears, you know.”

And maybe that was truly what Nico needed to hear, whether he knew it or not.

But still, “I think it’s embarrassing.”

“I think it’s human,” Will shot back.

“Well, I’m only half, you know.”

“Shut up,” Will rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Nico looked away again, feeling a bit better even without having said much about what transpired last night. Maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe Will understood anyway, and really meant it when he said he’d be there for him.

Maybe he did have a place in this world, in the light, where the darkness of his mind and enemies of his past couldn’t get him. Maybe Will would be the one to show him that, once and for all.

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pandoras-princess · 3 years

Text

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader) 18+

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovely peopless! 🌸 I have had the worst writer’s block and honestly it felt like this part was going to go on forever. But we’re here and we’re over it 🤗 I’m actually quite proud of how this one turned out despite everything so I shall keep it short and sweet but I will say please please read part one before you read this if you haven’t already, this part won’t make sense otherwise but that’s it for the nagging I swear 😚 sooo without further adieu I give you part two 😁😁 Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is always welcome 😌

Summary: It’s been half a year and you’ve settled quite nicely into your job at the Garrison, as well as all the perks that come with it. Your relationship with Tommy takes an unexpected turn, igniting a fire within John he hadn’t known was simmering...

Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, explicit mentions of sex, smoking

PART ONE PART THREE PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

It’s been 6 months since your first shift at the Garrison, and running the bar isn’t the only thing you've settled into.

After spending the night together in his office, you and Tommy came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You provide him with some much needed stress release, in return he provides you with the love and adoration you so desperately crave, even if only for the brief moments spent in your bed.

As the intimate meetings became more and more frequent, there was still no doubt in your mind that you were little more than a functional lay to the man.

Truthfully, you were anything but functional because with every encounter Tom could feel his heart falling for you.

At first, it was how you'd light a cigarette for him right after sex, plucking the stick from your lips to tuck it between his before you lit your own; it was the way your wild curls would encompass your face like a halo at even the smallest tilt of your head; it was the way you could handle any rowdy punter at the bar with a few choice words and a look that could put even the hardest man in his place. And now? Now, it was absolutely everything about you. Tom found his head clouded with thoughts of you constantly, the only relief taken from being in your presence.

What started out as a bit of harmless fun, had now become a nightly occurence.

Tonight being no exception, you skillfully roll over him, careful not to place any unwanted weight on delicate body parts. Tom pulls on his cigarette, inhaling the harsh smoke as he admires the after-sex glow radiating off your naked form. The only marrs on your skin were the hickeys he made in an eager bid to claim you as his own.

You set about gathering your clothes, unaware of the adoration swimming in the blue irises behind.

“What're you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to leave” you chime, now all too accustomed to the usual routine of sex and a quick smoke before walking home or sneaking Tom out.

Returning to the bed in hopes of retrieving your underwear, Tommy’s large hand wraps around your thigh holding you in place, and any thoughts of the discarded fabric are dashed.

“Stay.”

It was not a question but a statement, the silent pleading in his eyes a far too familiar feeling of your own.

“Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you sayi-”

“I know what I said, that's not what I want anymore” he interrupts, perfectly aware of the words about to be repeated back to him.

Straddling his waist, his hands come to rest on your hips, thumbs drawing invisible circles on the soft skin beneath as your hands trail mindlessly along his toned chest, goosebumps appearing in their wake.

“What do you want then?” The question comes out breathily, and your heart pounds against your ribcage at such an intensity you were sure it was audible.

“I wan’t you, Y/N.”

There it was. The words you’d been waiting to hear for what felt like an eternity.

You ignore the niggling voice in the back of your mind; the voice reminding you that this decleration of- of- whatever it is, was coming from the mouth of the wrong Shelby brother.

“Is that so, Mr Shelby?”

Tommy is cast back to the very first time you’d given yourself to him - bent over his desk and shamelessly moaning his name as he pounded you with such force he worried the aged wood might just give out from under you - and he remembers just why he’d had this change of heart in the first place.

You were perfect. Plain and simple.

Of course you had your quirks, everyone did. But try as he might he couldn’t find a single one that put him off. The more time spent together the more he was convinced God had crafted you entirely for his sake.

“Yes Y/N that is so.” Tommy’s fingers connect with your waist and your angelic giggles fill the air, the smile tracing his lips deepening.

Flipping over so that his body is snug between your legs, he continues his relentless tickle attack, relishing the feel of your body squirming underneath him as you desperately try to get away.

“To-tommy sto-stop tickling me!”

Your dainty hands barely manage to prise one hand from your waist before the other reconnects, rendering your muscles useless as you collapse into laughter.

“O-okay you win! I’m yo-yours, all yours!”

“Ah the magic words.”

Opening your eyes, you’re met with Tommy’s beautiful face beaming down at you, having obviously accomplished his mission. Draping your slender arms around his neck, you pull him into a kiss and his hands roam your body, tracing along each and every curve before settling for burying in your curls.

For the first time in six months, you and Tommy made love. Well, the first and second time, to be exact.

Hours later and Tommy is peeling his body off of yours, lungs begging for oxygen as the fragments of your mind recollect themselves - the ecstasy of your orgasms positively mind blowing.

“Tommy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you mind if we, um, maybe wait before telling everyone. I just don’t fancy them sticking their oar in, m’ really quite content just us” you muse, shifting into place beside him. Your touch dances along his collarbones, exploring every groove and crevice on its travels to his jawline.

Eyes closed, a lop-sided grin gracing those oh so plump lips. Silky brown waves marvellously tousled from hours of your fingers raking through them.

The man truly was a work of art.

Tommy hums softly in response, one lid opening to peer down at you before capturing your hand in his, lightly pecking each of your fingers along the way.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

With the ghost of his soft lips lingering, your focus shifts to the rhythmic beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the ever so slight twitch of his fingers. And so, wrapped securely in the arms of tender loving care, you drift off to sleep.

The next morning your small figure is weaving throughout the back streets of Small Heath, now an expert on the roads less traveled by Peaky Blinders and Co.

With blood pounding in your ear drums and your heart thuddering in your chest, you sneak through the creaky door making a beeline for the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?”

You reluctantly enter the kitchen, finding Polly at the breakfast table with a cup of tea to her left, an ashtray to her right and a heap of papers inbetween.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“No where.”

“That hickey on your neck says otherwise” she smirks, finally raising her head to look at you.

Your hand pointlessly rushes to cover the purple bruise darkening by the minute on your jugular. “Shit!”

“So how is Tommy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said how is Tommy?” Polly repeats the question, panic creeping up your throat like bile.

“You mean... you know?”

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own nephew sneaking in and out of this house every night. Give me some credit” she quips. “Don’t worry your little secret is safe with me.”

The parilysing fear immediately dissolves and you plunk yourself down at the table, a dreamy sigh leaving your mouth as you lay your head to rest in your palms.

“Oh Pol, it’s wonderful! He’s so- so-”

“Please, spare me the details.”

“-so perfect!”

“Y/N, he’s Tommy Shelby - perfect isn’t a word within that man’s description.”

“Well it is in mine” you mumble.

“Anyway since you’re here you can help me. We’re having a gathering tonight and I want everyone here so I need you to go and tell them. In the lounge, 6pm sharp.”

“Fine” you huff, rising from the table.

“Oh and Y/N, make sure you cover that thing up before you see John, we don’t need any more murders around here.”

Red hot flames lick at your cheeks and Polly’s lips stretch into a smirk once again, chuckling to herself as she returns to the paperwork before her.

By 6 o’clock all members of the Shelby clan are slowly trickling into the lounge. Tommy and yourself are the first to arrive and he immediately chooses the right corner seat, guiding your body into the empty space beside him.

“Alright Pol” Tom greets his aunt not bothering to make eye contact as he notices a stray curl fall into your eyes, gently tucking it back in it’s rightful place before leaving a quick kiss on your temple.

Polly’s eyes twinkle with amusement as she hands you both a whiskey.

“You’ll want to be a bit more discreet than that when the others turn up.”

“Yes thank you Pol” Tom replies sarcastically as you direct your attention to ridding your jumper of non-existent fluff.

“Alright Polly.”

Your head snaps to the source of the gruff voice, butterflies fluttering against the confines of your ribcage as you lock eyes with John.

“Ye alright love” he plants a kiss on the top of your head before collapsing into the free corner of the sofa.

John was a man of few words, those that didn’t know him might even say simple. But when it came to you, the unspoken language of Jonathon Shelby was one of the few you could speak, thus giving rise to the overly affectionate nature of your relationship.

If this was a few years ago - before Esme, before Tommy, before that tart in the back alley, when everything was right with the world - you’d be tucked up next to John, curled into his side with a strong arm wrapped firmly around your waist. His fingers would absentmindedly trail along your skin, a private joke or snarky comment whispered into your ear every now and then. And when he laughed, oh god when he laughed, each muscle would flex around you drawing you in closer, forcing every fibre of your being to fight the urge to kiss him.

But this was not a few years ago and things had changed, the harsh truth slapping you in the face like a wet fish as you catch sight of Esme trawling into the lounge; each butterfly erupting into a tiny globe of fire as she settles herself between you and John.

How beautifully ironic you thought, shifting yourself closer to Tommy.

Eventually Ada and Arthur arrive and the night rolls on. The whiskey burns through your veins, blending with your blood on its way straight to your head. With a fair amount of Dutch courage under your belt your body was craving the intimacy it was used to on a night like this. So taking your chances you snuggle into Tommy, allowing yourself to relax when you feel his arm instinctively snaking around you.

The action - which could easily be passed off as a caring moment between two friends - hadn’t gone unnoticed, and every muscle under John’s control seized up at the sight.

More stories poured out, along with many more drinks - you’d half a mind to suspect Polly was purposely fueling you with alcohol - and the more brazen you become, your legs now laying over Tommy’s with his left hand resting comfortably on your thighs.

You gently tap on the waistband of his suit trousers, and hope that Tommy understands your silent request. The movement was much too slight to draw any attention and he brings his left hand to scratch an itch that wasn’t there, before casually placing it over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze when he’s sure nobody has noticed.

He forgot, however, that Ada was positioned with a clear viewpoint of the loving act, sitting smugly on the arm next to him as she put two and two together. She thought the pair of you had been awfully happy lately, much too happy for it to be coincidental.

As everyone focused their attention on Polly and her latest crazy tale, John’s jaw clenched and unclenched for the hundredth time, the muscle aching under the constant tension. He sat on the other side of the sofa, soundlessly raging as he thought over the countless nights you’d been draped over him like that, whispering and giggling, eyes glistening with mischief as he shared another secret joke with you. Now here you were, draped over his brother, whispering and giggling as your eyes glistened with what he hoped was the large amount of whiskey you’d ingested, and not the same mischief you once shared with him.

Esme attempted to replicate your position, and she was met with John’s hand roughly pushing her aside. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He wasn’t even sure why he couldn’t take it - it’s not as if you’d ever be stupid enough to fall for his brother’s plan.

“Tommy stop!” you giggle, brushing his hand from your curls as he pretends to mess them up.

That was enough. “C’mon Es we’re going.”

Your laughter dies down as you look up at John, his blue orbs cold and hard as they stare back at you.

For once, you couldn’t place the unvoiced emotion set on his face. For once, you couldn’t read the man you once considered your best friend.

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parkersloths · 3 years

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Hi ^^

First of all – your Art is INCREDIBLE!!!

I especially love your use of colors and textures :) Everything is so bright and colorful, but still cohesive. And your images are so clear without being overly detailed! It’s all literally perfection!!!

I like to draw digitally as well and your art-style is a huge inspiration for me. So I wanted to ask if you have any work in progress videos or pictures? Or if you could explain your process in general? Like, are you using a sketch layer underneath, with how many layers are you normally working, what kind of brushes do you use or any tips overall to improve digital painting?

Of course you don’t have to answer this (kinda a lot of questions, sorry 😅 ). Just know that I adore your art and that you’re helping me on my own art-journey just by sharing your work with the world – so, thank you!!! <3

Hey!! So first of all thank you so much for everthing you said about my art, I really appreciate it! But also omg thank youuu for this amazing ask like this is for real the kind of ask I've always wanted to get, where a total stranger is interested in my process XD So yeah don't worry about asking a lot of questions, they were great and I loved them!

Also I'm super flattered that my art has inspired you in your own digital art journey and I hope the stuff I say here can also help somewhat! This will get pretty long so sorry in advance everyone for making you scroll so much cause for some reason the read more option doesn't work on mobile :/

But anyway to answer your questions!

Sadly I don't have videos but I do have some pics I'll share. This is actually my second attempt at answering this because before I was going to use some WIP pics of the Majid drawing as example but then I didn't want to because it was in black and white and color is kind of one of the main things I like to emphasize in my art so I wanted to talk about it in the example XD Then I started a couple new drawings and was taking pics of those but I got super artblocked, but luckily I just finished one out of the blue that I can use. Okay so... I started answering this, again, and it was getting way too long and rambly so I'm gonna try to keep it simple this time and maybe I can elaborate more another time if you're still interested/ if anyone else wants know X'D

My process in general: I always start by making a simple basic background to work on, just fill it in and add some blotches of color. Then on a new layer I just start painting the subject, no sketch, so again just laying down some colors (I usually take whatever color in the bg is closest to skin tone and adjust the new color from there) and I just start blocking some shapes in aproximately the right places to start defining where things will be and how they fit together and just go from there. It's hard to explain it more cause that's kinda it, I just paint until things look like they're supposed to or at least visually appealing enough XD I add or adjust whatever colors seem necessary along the way (in this particular drawing I left the darker values until way too late which I don't recommend) and just refine and refine and refine things and add as many or as few details as I feel like, working on everything simmultaneously bit by bit.

Layers: like I mentioned before there's no sketch, and I try to use as few layers as possible so usually I'll have about 3-5. One for the basic background, one to three (though sometimes I merge them) additional layers for more background effects/colors/value fixes that I usually add later in the process, and I try to have just one for the subject. Sometimes I have one or two more if I'm feeling too hesitant but I always merge them in the end.

Brushes: I only use one brush at 50% opacity the whole time for everything. It's a squarish/rectangular brush that has some sort of jagged edges and a bit of a watercolory texture.

Tips: so this part is especially hard cause like.. I feel like any tips I could give are only applicable to drawing portraits and even then it'd be for doing it in the particular way that I prefer.. Like for example I could say it's best to work on every area at the same time and never spend too long one thing before moving on to the next but.. some people actually prefer finishing the eyes completely before moving on to the nose for example you know? So honestly the main thing I'll say is kinda to just experiment with a lot of methods and styles and see what works or doesn't work for you. Something that I think always helped me a lot was watching speedpaints of people who were more skilled than me and had a distinct style, just literally watch how they did their thing and every once in a while I might notice something I'd be interested in trying for myself and yeah with practice and experience you just kinda figure out what kind of things you not only like seeing but actually want in your own art. Like years ago I used to sketch but then I saw enough videos of people painting without sketching that I wanted to try it and I realized it's just more fun and makes more sense to me that way. So yeah try lots of different things and see what works for you and what you want to incorporate into your own art style!

Some more standard digital art tips I could give I guess are like.. the thing I said about not spending too much time on just one area (if it applies to your prefered process XD). Flip the drawing every now and then to catch stuff that's off. Stay zoomed out as much as possible and when you do zoom in for details always keep an eye on how the bigger picture's looking. Take your time finding or arranging a good reference pic that really inspires you cause it'll save you time and frustration later. And aaa idk I could say more but I don't think it's that informative or helpful, and all of this is probably really basic obvious stuff anyway and this is long enough as it is so yeah I'll leave it there...

I hope any of this can help in some way or that I've at least answered your questions in a satisfying enough way haha And finally here are some of the WIP pics I took. Where you can see some parts of the process. I did a lot more after that last pic but yeah at that point it's just about fixing little things, refining and adding details, but there you can see the color adjustment thing I usually do as the very last step (though not for this pic). I don't always have to do it, and there are probably times when I shouldn't, but I almost always like to do it anyway and that's why my colors look so exaggerated and bright XD I usually make the midtones more red and/or magenta, the shadows more blue, and the highlights more yellow (and sometimes a bit cyan) but if you wanna try something like that it's definitely fun to experiment with the different color possibilities ;u;

And yeah that's it for now! I'm sorry this is so long, and this was the short version lol I hope you like the answers at least a fraction of how much I loved the questions X'D

#asks #asks and stuff #sorry for the late reply #ugh this is so long sorry #but seriously I love questions #feel free to ask me stuff lol #I apparently also love to talk X'D

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asphalt-cocktail · 3 years

Text

Finding my way back

Summary: Nearly a decade after you and John break up you manage to find your way back to him.

A/N: Hello my dears! So I wrote this for Beatle and Queen secret santa exchange! Apologies it’s not heavily Christmas/holiday themed; it does take place during winter so I hope that counts for something. I hope you enjoy your fic as much as i enjoyed writing it @sweetrosetta-martin! I wrote this after I heard the song Green Papaya by Lianne La Havas which makes me feel some type of way. Also shout out to @casafrass and @moodysunflowergirl for putting this together! Thank you for all your hard work and organization for this!

Pairing: John Lennon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Okay friends, we’ve got a bit of everything in here! It’s got some mild illusions to smut and steamy smooches, some angst, some fluff, pinning, longing, break ups, cigarettes, alcohol (I think), swearing, we’ve got Teddy boy!John and 70s!John. But no actual smut.

Word Count: 5.4k

Your heart ached in your chest as you sat in front of John, “What do you mean we can’t see each other anymore?” Your voice cracked with emotion.

John watched your watery eyes from behind his glasses and let out a deep sigh, “I’m going to be touring a lot and Brian wants us to move to London, so I just…” His own voice cracked with emotion, “So I just don’t think we should keep seeing each other.” He looked away unable to maintain eye contact with you.

“But we survived Germany!” You protested back, “It will be okay, I can visit you when you have shows nearby,” You wanted this to work, being with John felt like home. You sniffed, “You know like wait backstage with flowers and everything.” You said and began to rub your stinging eyes.

You were right, the two of you had survived Germany, but it was only because it lasted a few short months and your relationship was open out of respect for the two of you; John didn’t know how long this Beatles thing was going to last and from the looks of it, it was going to last quite a while. John rubbed the tears from behind his glasses, smudging his finger along the lenses and clouding the vision of your perfect face. He squeezed your hand tightly in his own, “It’ll be fine I promise,” He said pausing to kiss your knuckles, “I love you [Y/N] I really do, and if it’s meant to be we will be together again.” He gave you one last chaste kiss; your faces were wet from tear and it was sad and short lived. You embraced him tightly inhaling the scent of cigarettes, mint gun, and a smell that was so distinctly John before finally letting him go to part ways.

The two of you exchanged letters for the first few months of his first tour, but at this point it has been so long that you didn’t remember who stopped writing who and honestly, why did it matter? John was constantly an aching thought in the back of your mind, and you had constant reminders of him from posters to news articles, to full size cardboard cut outs that sat in record stores. It seemed everywhere you turned you saw him which only increased the yearning.

It took several months but you finally found yourself back in a routine that didn’t include John, it was almost like when he went to Germany except this time he wasn’t coming back for good. You finished up school, found a job working in marketing, and had several shitty boyfriends before you found yourself in New York city working in the marketing division of a fashion brand and met Noah. He was nice, but he wasn’t John.

He didn’t smoke cigarettes, or wear glasses, and couldn’t understand art. But he was here, and the sex was pretty okay.

Noah was nice and he made you a pot of coffee every morning he slept over and didn’t try to pry too far into your personal life. All around you didn’t have any qualms with him; it just didn’t feel complete.

The scent of freshly roasted coffee drifted through your home as you woke up with your alarm clock blaring in your ears. You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and rolled out of bed. Noah was busying himself in the kitchen, you should just ask him to move in at this point. “Did you get the paper?” You asked sitting down at the table.

“On the counter, love.” He answered before grabbing it and sliding it across the table towards you. Much to your surprise in big bold letters on the front page “PAUL SPLITS THE BEATLES” were plastered across it. Naturally a picture of the doe-eyed man you once called a friend accompanied it as well as a smaller picture of the group.

“Fucking Christ.” You mumbled to yourself and turned the page, hoping to find something else to read, some couple getting married or some advice column, but no, your eyes continued to draw themselves back to the fab four and specifically John. He looked wildly different now; long hair, glasses, eccentric wardrobe all made him look almost unfamiliar

You finally gave in and read the article; from what you observed in the news and on television tensions were high between the four and it seemed as though fame had gotten the best of them, “Crazy, right?” Noah asked handing you a cup of coffee, “Who would have thought? It looked like they were going to be together forever. But get your riches and split I guess, yeah?”

A sour feeling filled your belly, John and Paul cared more about the Beatles than Noah could ever know. The idea of get rich and dip was ridiculous, wasn’t it? “I don’t think that is the case.” You mumbled before abruptly getting up to get ready for work, forgetting your morning coffee.

It had been almost a decade since you had last seen John, and a lot could have changed. He was no longer the tough teddy boy you had grown to love. His hair had grown out and he was with Yoko Ono now, from the looks of if they were essentially attached at the hip. A part of you hoped you and Noah would never achieve that level of need in your relationship.

Unfortunately, as months passed there seemed to be no other way to progress your and Noah’s relationship and one day he slept over and never left. You no longer had your own space to escape to or much alone time aside from when Noah came home an hour after you from work. You felt throttled and frankly didn’t like it, nor did you like Noah much anymore. It seemed like the right step though, after three years of dating; you could tell Noah craved monogamy.

Your day at work was long and exhausting. All you could think of was your hour of peace and quiet before Noah came home and talked about his boring life at work. If you had to use a color to describe your life it would be grey, dull, boring, no vibrancy or excitement.

New York was full of bright vibrant colors and never slept; it was much livelier that than the cloudy northern United Kingdom city you once called home, but in the small apartment that you lived in there was constant monotony. Waking up, making coffee, going to work, coming home, reading and making dinner, going to sleep; only to repeat that for five days in a row and then sit around the house during the weekend, or leave to get groceries if you were lucky. If you were unlucky, Noah’s accountant friends would come over and talk your ear off about their corporate work life you just couldn’t wrap your head around.

Your mind was swimming with thoughts, mostly about your stagnant life as you navigated your way off the subway once you reached your stop and walked off. It was loud and cramped as everyone flooded off; you kept your head low and pushed your way through the crowd. A firm, but boney shoulder pushed into you causing your thoughts to flee and your brows furrowed as you looked up, “Watch it, asshole.” You mumbled under your breath and looked up before you froze.

Your eyes locked with a pair of eyes that were all too familiar and all the breath in your body seemed to leave, “[Y/N]?” John asked you, seemingly just as shocked as you were.

Despite being in the subway station the world around you stopped. A few sputtering words came out to form an incoherent sentence as you were consumed with shock. Your body became ridged and you sharply exhaled before turning and continuing your short jaunt home.

That night you laid on your side and your mind was consumed with so many thoughts, mostly John if you were being honest. You’d thought you had long since blocked the ghost from your memory, but it appeared that seeing him caused a number of memories to rouse from the depths of your consciousness. You hated it. John Lennon was once again living in your head rent free.

Noah gripped your side and kissed along your shoulders and neck while his hand rubbed your hips and slowly began to wander upwards towards your breasts. The sudden touch caused you to jump, “Not tonight,” You mumbled trying to sound tired.

Noah let out a soft sigh before giving your shoulder one last kiss, “Sorry, you had a long day, love.” He said pulling you close against him and resting his head on your shoulder. As you pretended to sleep you laid in your bed and stared at the wall of darkness in your room.

When the hell did John come to New York?

Did he live nearby?

Was Yoko with him?

Questions swirled around in your mind; questions that would not get answered unless you actively sought out an answer.

As sleep consumed you, you dreamt of John.

The Reeperbahn had a smell you would never forget. You didn’t know cities could have distinct smells until you traveled to Germany to visit John for the first time since he had left Liverpool. It was a combination of pollution, beer, and a smell you had hoped to never figure out what caused it. From his letters this place seemed larger than life, and when you took your first steps off the train you saw it was.

John tackled you with a warm hug, he smelled like sweat, beer, and cigarettes, “You stink.” You grinned and laughed as he kissed your face all over.

“Our options are kind of limited, love.” He grinned and wrapped his arm around your waist keeping you close to him as the two of you walked down the busy street.

He took you to a restaurant, you honestly hadn’t expected him to take you on a date especially with where you were and how little money he had. “Come on, I’ve got a show in two hours,” He grinned, excited to have you watch him play.

“And then we met this group of Germans, they’ll be at the show tonight. I know you’ll love them.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you, “Stu is going with one of them, Astrid. She’s great too, her ma lets us shower at her place and makes us dinner sometimes.” You soaked in all the stories John had to share.

His life seemed so exciting here in Germany, but you could see how exhausted he was beginning to get, “You’ve got to hear how we sound now, Pete’s still shit, but Paul, George and I are really getting better.” He shifted in his seat and poked at his food, “I don’t know if Stu is going to stick with us much longer though; he’s been talking about going back to art school.”

That night you and John slept cramped together in his little bunk bed in the back room. You woke up to him rubbing your arm with the tips of his calloused fingers and he kissed your shoulder.

Rolling over you captured his lips in a soft kiss, he tasted of beer and cigarettes and he clung to you, holding you so close it almost hurt. Breaking the kiss, he began to pepper soft kisses along your jaw and neck, “I love you so much,” He said between heavy breaths.

“I love you too John.” You responded letting out a soft whimper as his fingers began to rub you through the cloth short wore to sleep.

With a gasp you shot up in bed, coated in a layer of sweat and looked around the still dark room, wide eyed. Noah rubbed his sleepy eyes as he woke up, “What’s wrong, hun?” He asked.

You gained control of your breathing once more and laid back down, still uncomfortably sweaty; “Nothing, just a nightmare.” You answered and swallowed thickly.

---

For weeks, John plagued your mind and you were starting to convince yourself that you hadn’t truly seen him and that you were just going crazy. Your sleep was becoming more and more restless as time went on. It got so noticeable that even Noah questioned it.

“Take some time off, hun, you work too much.” He said.

So that was what you did. You finally had a week off after what felt like ages.

It was nice, but you were barely half a day into your vacation, and you began to feel restless. What could you possibly do to fill your time?

Your mind began to wander and drift off to thoughts of John; a wave of nausea immediately washed over you. “I need to leave.” You abruptly said and grabbed your purse and house keys before leaving your flat.

You soon found yourself at Central Park. Despite it being autumn, the weather was nice, the kind of nice where you look outside, and it seems warmer than it is. The breeze was soft but brisk you walked through the park enjoying the breath of fresh air. As you walked through the running paths you admired the changing leaves and the crunching sound they made under your feet.

You eyed a bench that overlooked The Lake, so cleverly named, and brushed the fallen leaves that covered it before you sat down. For once you felt like your mind was free from worry and the anxieties that had been consuming you the last several weeks.

That was until you got up and saw a familiar figure walking down the path that would directly cause yours. A shot of adrenaline shot through you and your heart began to race. It was as though your fight or flight responses had kicked in and they were telling you to get the fuck out of there. You frantically looked around and it felt like a lose-lose situation with whatever option you chose. So, you stayed; how bad was it going to be? Maybe he wouldn’t even notice?

John walked past your little out cove and glanced at you and then looked again, “Fucking hell.” He mumbled stopping in his tracks.

The two of you stood frozen, staring at each other for what seemed like a lifetime before John finally broke the silence, “I thought I saw you at the subway station.” He said bluntly, his familiar voice causing a warm feeling to erupt in your belly and spread to the tips of your fingers.

You opened your mouth and closed it, trying to think of something to say, “You did.” Was what you finally spoke.

“Right,” He sighed, looking down in defeat.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets and shifted the weight on your feet, “Do you want to sit?” You asked abruptly.

John looked at you through his round lenses and nodded, “Sure, I could sit for a while.” He answered.

The two of you sat across from each other on your respective benches, “So, how long have you lived here for?” John asked watching you nervously pick at your fingers.

You looked up from your hands, “About 6 years now.” You leaned back, now feeling confident enough to study his features. His face was thinner, age lines had begun to map themselves out on his face, and his hair was messily layered and framed the sides of his face nicely. He was still as handsome as ever, “How long have you lived here for?”

John cleared his throat and pulled out his cigarettes, placing one in his mouth, “About two years now,” the conversation was weird, like the two of you didn’t know what to talk about. You watched as John’s long fingers light his cigarette, the spicy smell filling the space between the two of you and the smoke delicately curling up towards the sky, “So do you work near by or something?” He asked casually crossing his legs and resting his arm on the back of the bench.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t I just needed to get out of the house.” You said, staring at the reason you felt urged to leave your home in the first place, “I only live about six blocks away. It’s a nice walk.” You added, your stomach suddenly feeling sour as you remembered Noah.

John hummed, inhaling deeply on the cigarette the ember burning a bright red before dimming ever so slightly, “Do you work at all?” His tone came off ruder than expected, but you knew he didn’t intend for it to.

“Marketing.” You answered simply. Your brain swam with question you had for your former lover, “Do you live nearby?” You asked returning the question back to him.

John nodded behind him, “The Dakotas.” He mimicked your shortness. You looked and could see the large building peaking out from the tops of the trees.

You hummed, “Must be nice.” You said flashing him a closed mouth smile.

“It is.” He added and stood up, taking one last deep inhale before stubbing out his half-smoked cigarette in the snow and putting it in his pocket, “You look good, you know.” He said, his eyes studying your seated form before settling on your face.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious and very aware of your existence you crossed pulled your winter coat tighter around you, “So do you John.” You responded, “You’ll have to show me your place sometime.” You boldly suggested.

John flashed you a crooked smile before fishing around in his pocket, “Call me and I’ll see if I can fit you into my schedule.” He said before handing you a business card. Of course, he had business cards.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you took the thick and expensive paper and pocketed it, “I’ll have my people call your people.” You allowed a smile to break your nervous features.

That night your mind saw no peace. You sat in the bathroom staring at the business card in your hand. It was nearly 3 am and the delicate gold letters reflected in the shitty florescent lights that made your eyes ache as you repeatedly read the phone number and name.

The rest of your vacation it seemed as though you were not going to get the mental break you so desperately craved. You watched as Noah left for work and felt a pang of guilt rising in your chest; a pice of you felt greedy for wanting to see John again. So, you figured it would be best to tuck it away in the back of your mind to the place where your other thoughts of John lived and put the card away in a shoe box and tried to forget.

---

Forgetting about your interaction with John seemed to work well, that is until you and Noah broke up.

He stood in the doorway with the boxes of his things. You could tell he didn’t feel great, and neither did you. But a piece of you felt thankful that he was finally moving out. After seeing John your body craved the spontaneity that he used to give you, and the spontaneity that Noah had lacked.

Once the last of his things were moved from your apartment you felt as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You felt good, like a breath of fresh air. You busied yourself by rearranging your home and filling the empty spaces that Noah left after he and his belongings vacated your space.

As you moved your shoe boxes and rearranged your closet a business card slipped from the tear in one of them. It was the one that John had given you only a few months ago.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared at the intricate gold letters you familiarized yourself with that night that seemed so long ago. You looked at the clock, it was only 4 PM and you had hoped he wasn’t busy.

You curled up on your couch and held the phone receiver against your ear listening to it ring as you absentmindedly played with the stiff card in your hand.

“Hello?” You instantly recognized John’s voice.

“John?” You responded back, “It’s, um, it’s [Y/N]” You felt a surge of nerves pulse through you.

“You know, I expected you to call sooner.” John skipped the formal greetings.

You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, sorry about that. I suppose nerves got the best of me.” It wasn’t a whole truth, but a half truth, “Do you think you’d be interested in showing me your place sometime?” you asked remembering back to the conversation the two of you had several months prior.

John hummed and you could hear the soft rustle of paper in the background before he cleared his throat, “Yeah, I suppose I could fit you in. Did you want to stay for dinner?”

Your heart thudded in your chest, “Dinner?” You question out loud and let out a puff of air, “Yeah, I suppose I could.”

“Right, so 6 o’clock sound good?” John asked, “I can send a car for you.”

“A car?” You asked, not accustom to the luxuries of being a Beatle, “I can walk it’ll be fine.”

John let out a sigh, “It’s freezing outside and nearly pitch black. You aren’t walking.” He said firmly.

“Fine.” You answered in defeat and gave him your address to send the car.

“Right, be ready by 5:30.” He said

“Shit, okay.” You said before bidding him farewell and scrambling to get ready. The sleek black car arrived and drove you to the Dakotas. It was nice, far nicer than any building you had ever been in before. The driver walked you up to John’s apartment and let you in.

The room was decorated in a hodgepodge of John’s interests, from music to art to antiques; with everything tastefully on display. John walked out, dressed casually in a shirt, jeans, and no shoes and drank in your figure as you stripped off your jacket. You shifted nervously under his intense gaze, “So, you wanted a tour, yeah?” John asked.

You nodded and watched as he crossed his arms over his chest, admiring how his biceps flexed and bulged when his hands rested in position, “Yeah, a tour.” You said secretly hoping this would amount to much more than a tour.

John stretched his arms out, “Well welcome to my humble home.” He greeted in a grandiose manor.

Humble, right.

John’s home was more extravagant than you could have imagined. It was much better than the apartment he lived in with Stu or the back room they had in Hamburg and even better than when he lived with Mimi. He had several cats that roamed around his home; it made you smile and remember the time he brought a stray home and convinced Mimi to keep him. It seemed as though old habits died hard when it came to John.

The two of you made your way back to his living room and he sat down on his couch, “Come on, sit.” He said patting the spot next to him.

“Oh,” You abruptly said, not noticing you had been standing in the middle of the room studying the various things on the wall, “Right.” You quickly sat on the couch uncomfortably stiff, “So… dinner?” You asked.

John nodded his head, not having forgotten the food and pulled out a box of take out menus, “Do you want to order something, I haven’t gotten much for groceries this week.” He admitted sheepishly.

You rifled through the various menus in his collection, “So,” You started, “Where is Yoko?” You asked honestly wondering where his other half was.

“We’re separated right now.” He said sounding uncomfortable.

You glanced over at John and noted his somber expression, this was obviously a topic he didn’t want to talk about. “Sorry to pry.” You said before sliding him the menu of one of your favorite Chinese restaurants in the area.

“It’s a valid question.” He stated, now intently focused on the menu, “What about you?” He asked, peaking up to glance at you before quickly looking away.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, your love life and what not.” He followed up quickly.

You shifted uncomfortably, “Oh, well my ex just moved out today.”

John arched one of his thick brows, “Hm,” He grunted, “Nice lad?” He questioned.

You shrugged, “Yeah, I suppose. Just boring.” You answered thinking back to the stale and stagnant version of your life that was your reality only a week ago.

John watched you frown in distain before he got up to place your orders, “What did you want again?” He asked.

“The number 23 dinner special with an eggroll.” You had your order memorized.

As John placed the order on his telephone, you listened to the sound of his muffled voice and leaned back on the couch. It was interesting how despite not seeing each other for nearly a decade, you still found your way back to him. One of his cats climbed their way on your lap and purred as you scratched behind its ears.

“She likes you.” John said as he walked back into the room, “Food should be here in 45 minutes.” He said plopping back down. The black cat nuzzled its head into your head and let out a soft meow.

“What’s her name?” You asked enjoying the attention your newfound friend was giving you.

“Salt.” He said, a smile cracking his features.

“Salt?” You asked letting out a small huff of laughter.

“Her sister, Pepper is somewhere around here.” He said reaching over and petting Salt, scratching her behind the ears.

Your 45 minutes with John was spent chatting and catching up, he talked about Mimi and told you that she asked about you often and he never knew how to respond, and you talked to him about how you finished college and began your marketing job.

It was interesting how the two of you were able to smooth over the awkwardness of your conversation in just a few short hours, unlike your previous run ins. The familiar warm feeling you would get every time you’d talk to him quickly returned. When your food arrived the doorman from the front of the building brought it up and the two of you laid out your spread on the coffee table.

John walked over to a shelf of movies and pulled one out. He turned towards you, flashing you the box. It didn’t surprise you when he showed you Clockwork Orange. It was a very John movie, “Want to watch it?” He asked smiling softly.

You nodded your head, “Pop it in.” You said waving your hand towards his television.

The movie played in the background as the two of you continued to talk and eat your takeaway, “How are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m fine, how are you?” He responded a confused expression plastered on his face.

You shook your head, “No, John I really mean it; how are you?” You said giving him a sympathetic expression.

Putting his chopsticks down, John sighed, “I don’t know.” He pursed his lips deep in thought, “I mean I suppose I’ve been better.” He answered honestly, “I mean, my wife left me, my friends I’ve known for the last two decades don’t really want much to do with me.” John shrugged his should and looked away from you.

You nodded your head reaching over and grabbing his hand, rubbing it with your thumb before you patted it lightly and pulled it away. John chased your hand with his own and laced his fingers with yours. The rough underside of his palm brushed against your soft ones. The contrasting touch made you shiver, “I missed you.” He said and squeezed your hand.

John brought your hand to the side of his face and pressed your palm to his cheek, leaning into the warmth of your hand, “I missed you too.” You said as you thumb stroked his cheek bone. He turned his face and kissed your skin.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat and the feeling of John’s lips burned into your palm. You watched him, his eyes closed and a calm expression taking over his tense body. Slowly you slid closer to him, closing what little space was between the two of you, “John,” You said breaking the soft silence that had settled between the two of you. He hummed and looked up at you urging you to continue, “You know what you told me when we broke up?”

John looked down, you could tell that the topic hurt him as much as it hurt you, “If it’s meant to be, we’ll find each other.” He said softly now looking at your fingers as he played with them.

In this moment he just looked like John, you’re John you had last seen nearly a decade ago. You pulled your fingers away from him and cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. Hesitantly you moved closer to him, feeling the warmth of John’s body radiating off him. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as your noses touched, lightly brushing against each other.

A soft whimper manifested itself in the back of your throat and trickled out when you felt John press his lips against yours. He pulled your close against his chest and held you against him tightly craving your warmth and body. Your mouths moved with a familiar synchronicity, so familiar it caused your stomach to ache as you frantically clung to John. Your hand managed to fall from his face and tangle itself in his shirt as you tried to pull him closer.

The way your nose bumped against his glasses reminded you of when you were 18 and sneaking into Mimi’s house, giggling as he told you to quiet down while the two of you kissed. You couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

John pulled away and left open mouth kisses on your chin and jaw and finally on your kiss. He immediately went to his favorite spot placing a wet open-mouthed kiss on it. You gasped at the feeling and craned your neck urging him for more.

Which he gladly gave you, pulling more sweet sounds from your mouth. He pulled back and studied your face through hooded eyes. John’s hand came up and he stroked the side of your face with the back of his hand. His touch was light and the back of his hand soft. You let out a sigh and leaned into his touch before looking back at him.

You laid back and pulled John against your chest. He responded by wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his head into you, “I’m sorry for what’s happened John,” You said and admired the weight of his body against yours.

John rubbed his face into your chest and didn’t look at you, “Stay the night, please.” He pleaded with you.

You rubbed his back as he clung to you, your heart ached hearing the loneliness in his voice, “Of course.” You said and kissed the top of his hair. John hummed with content feeling your fingers tracing patterns against his back.

The following morning you woke up next to John, his arm firmly wrapped around you and hair buried in the back of your neck. You turned around and wrapped your free arm him while your other remained pinned on your side. John let out a soft sigh and pulled you close against his chest and kissed the top of your head. You’d forgotten how much you missed and craved affection. You moved to leave, and John pulled you back, “Don’t leave me,” He said softly.

“I have to use the bathroom.” You said smiling and turning towards John.

He let out a playful groan, “Fine.” He said rolling over and sprawling out on his bed like a starfish.

When you returned John was still in the same position, you’d left him in. As you crawled back into the bed John’s arms slithered around you like a snake and pulled you into his chest. You inhaled deeply, missing his smell and smiled against the thin shirt he wore to bed.

In just a short amount of time the life that had once felt so grey and strange was now beginning to once again feel like home.

#casaflowersecretsanta2020 #John lennon x reader #the beatles x reader #John Lennon fluff #The Beatles fanfic

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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Writing Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @noire-pandora! <3

Time to show people just how much of a baby I am in the fanfic world~! >:3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

A total of ten! Mainly because I lump drabbles together for easy access!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

....273502 words so far. :3 I like words. Words are good. Words are friends.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows (the very first rendition!) - 48 kudos

Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows - Bound Brighter - 24 kudos

A Dragon’s Hope - 15 kudos

Dragon Drabbles - 13 kudos

Poetry of Wolves - 11 kudos

(Honestly, the progression of style change in each of these fics is terrifying to me. I look back on the last one, and I’m like, ‘Oh my god.’ X’D)

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do, on occasion, respond! Though I may use a lot of words while writing, when it comes to communication? I suck. XD But, I do get extremely, extremely excited whenever I see a comment in my inbox, and I do go back and re-read them when I’m feeling down about my writing! I usually respond when a person asks questions, but I try to read them as rhetoric since I don’t want to spoil too much! X3 So, to everyone who has left me comments on my fics: THANK YOU. I do really appreciate and adore them. :3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Many of my short fics (those ranging from one to two chapters) all end relatively happy. I like angst, but I also enjoy making characters that are usually somber and stressed a little lighter. :3 If we want to get technical, then the first several chapters of my main fic all have rather angsty endings because the beginning of Fane’s journey is...heh. It’s not easy, and it’s not supposed to be.

Although, now that I look, a very old fic of mine called ‘A Dragon’s Guilt’ has a rather angsty ending. Basically, Solas’ frescoes in the rotunda send Fane into a momentary spiral, and it was me playing with Adamant possibilities before he was ‘set in stone’. Panic attacks and mixed memories galore! :D

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

*rifes through my fics* Uhhhh... All of them? :3 Okay, okay! No, if I had to choose it would have to be...one of the short stories in ‘Dragon Drabbles’. It’s a four part story (and my first hand at smut >:3) that’s titled ‘Existence is Not a Sin’. It starts off angsty, but by the end it’s so sweet, so sickeningly sweet that I’m like, “...How did I write this?” X’D ...I’m actually thinking of re-writing a lot of my previous fics just to see if I’ve improved with writing! :D

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I do not write crossovers, but I’m open to the idea! Sadly, my brain hyperfixates on one thing at time, so my imagination is limited. X’D

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I haven’t, and I’m very grateful that I haven’t. To be honest, when I started writing and posting, I expected to get hate (prepare for the worst, you know?) because I was doing something that wasn’t really the ‘norm’ for a lot of people. After all, people are entitled to their own interpretations and mine some times don’t link up with someone else’s. I understand that, and I respect that, but some people...don’t offer the same courtesy. All I’ll say is, if you don’t enjoy my content, don’t read it. We’re all adults, so shrug your shoulders, say, “Not for me”, and move on. Just know that if you do leave a hate comment, you will receive no reply, no fuel. So, don’t waste your time and don’t waste mine. Simple as that. I’m here to share and make people smile, not argue. :3

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I have. Once, and I for the life of me can’t figure out how to do it again. X’D I’m very into soft intimacy; gestures and actions that speak a thousand words. Close positions (missionary, straddling, etc.) and a lot of eye contact with some healthy crying in the mix. *winks* I’m kind of inching towards a theme of ‘body worship’ when it comes to Fane and Solas because those two.. *sighs* They really need to shown that they are beautiful people; inside and out.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I have not. Thank God. XD All I’ll say is this though, you steal my fic, my son and claim them as your own? *gets close to the screen* I will track you down and demand a talk. Don’t steal other’s hard work. Don’t. Writing is not easy, and it takes weeks, months, years for authors to pump out their inspiration, so don’t steal that labor just because you want to say you could. Same goes for drawings and pieces of art. Don’t.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I haven’t! English is my first language, but I understand some French! :D

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I haven’t, but the idea is intriguing to me sometimes! I’m just a tad unreliable due to how my mood ebbs and flows. I have very long dry spells. X’D

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Solavellan! >:D While I write solely M!Lavellan/Solas, I do support all genders and orientations for the ship! Because I didn’t get into the ship because of what I saw, it’s what it meant to me.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

*side eyes my main fic* LISTEN. It’s coming! I swear. I’m just having intense writer’s block with my main fic, and I’m not sure why. That’s why I’ve been messing with prompts and drabbles. X’D There’s also my modernAU, too.. *sweats* TIIIIIME! WHERE ARE YOU?!

What are your writing strengths?

Describing emotions. I like emotions. Emotions are nice. :3

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. Mainly because Fane...doesn’t speak much at the beginning of his journey. He’s very curt, short, so I have hard time incorporating other’s reactions to him. I’m getting better though, I think! :D

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m for it! Sometimes that little splash of altering dialect can draw someone in and establish a connection! Language connects us, and it’s never too late to try and learn so as to reach out to another! :D

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Dragon Age, my beloved~

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

A short story of mine called ‘Blood in the Snow’. It was one of my very first fics and it was the first time I was like, ‘This Lavellan is my muse. I can do so much with him.’ It was just so fun to write a vulnerable moment for Fane, but still keep him locked up. ...It was also where I went, ‘Oh. This is Solavellan Hell. I wasn’t meant to go there, but I DID.’ X’D

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @little-lightning-lavellan @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @rosella-writes @aymayzing @drag-on-age @varric-tethras-editor and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course! <3)

#did i get a little harsh with a few of the questions? perhaps~ >:3 #art theft and hate comments are touchy subjects for me XD #art can be critiqued but it has to be productive or at least civilly worded #don't come at someone just to make them feel like shit #and shall i say; i've only been writing fanfic for a year #A YEAR #not even actually #*looks back* ...#my first fic was in december of last year so yeah. not even a year yet #*laughs nervously*#tagged #about me

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northcarolinanative · 4 years

Text

𝐈𝐟 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - Boxer!JJ

Requested by anon: Can you write about boxer!JJ, with or without the outer banks’ plot. JJ enjoys boxing and you can’t go to matches because they scare you. But you always prepare with him before and he always comes to see you after. One night something happens and they confess their feelings whatever you want haha I just thought it would be a cool idea (:

Description: After the disappearance of their best friends the pogues all search for different ways to cope. Some working too hard, some fighting, some just blocking it all out. JJ puts himself in danger too often for Y/N’s liking. She finds him an alternative, but in typical JJ fashion he moves too much too fast and gets out in a tricky situation.

A/N: This is so different from what I normally write. I got a bit carried away per usual:) I chose to put it in the OBX plot, this is all after 1x10 because we all know that I am a sucker for that at this point let's be honest. I tried to do my research but the more I read the more confused I got so I am sorry if it is inaccurate. I have ZERO experience with boxing and stuff. As I said this is so different for me so ANY feedback would be FANTASTIC!! MY asks/requests/messages are always open! ALSO, italics are flashbacks. // TW: This talks about character death, panic/anxiety, abuse, and violence.//

*pic courtesy of pinterest*

After the disappearance of John B and Sarah, each of the pogues had their own unique way of dealing with the major loss. The unknown ate them from the inside out until it was turned to grief, washing over them the moment the pair was presumed dead. Over the next few days, they went into denial, finally understanding why John B had been so desperate to hold onto clues about his father when the group had thought that he was grasping at straws. They understood why John B led them on the hunt for the gold because he thought it would lead to his dad. They understood because now they too would follow any lead, risk anything, or go anywhere to find John B and Sarah.

Each of the Pogues were dealing with their feelings in its respective way. Pope was trying his hardest to prove to his parents that he had not messed up his chance to get off the Island. He applied for every academic scholarship on the east coast. Pope was scared. Kie, while the two of us helped Pope when we could, worked countless hours at the Wreck. After running from her parents and being brought into question with the police she was in hot water with her parents. She allowed herself to stay focused on her work and earn back the trust and respect of her parents so that when the time came that John B and Sarah needed them, we could help. Kie was hopeful. JJ was starting fights with everyone that looked at him wrong. He threw punch after punch at the one boneyard party that we tried to attend in an attempt to make things feel normal. He kept going home and picking fights with his dad, he said that he deserved the torment for letting John B get on that boat. JJ blamed himself for pushing John B to his death. JJ was Angry. I let myself get swept up in my art, going to the docks, or sitting in the dunes, drawing. This where the other Pogues found me when I was not working my shift at the Wreck. When I sat down to create I let my thoughts go and wander to whatever I needed to try and process. This was the only time I let myself think about the things that happened between the pogues, or what was ahead for us. I let myself think about both the options, whether they were dead or they were alive somewhere. Outside of that, I shut it off and tried to help the other pogues, as much as I could, to get back to something normal. I was numb.

Kie and Pope had a lot to figure out between the two of them. It took them a while to actually begin to talk about what was going on between the two of them since they kept defecting. That left JJ and I alone rather often. Not that I was complaining. The two of us had never been super close when it came to the group. I was always Kie’s best friend first, pogue second, until now. The disappearance had brought all of us closer. Though I appreciated the closeness with JJ, I was worried about him. He showed up on my doorstep night after night bruised and broken. More often than not it was a fight with some rando that has looked at him on the side of the road. JJ didn’t care who felt his wrath anymore, he would fight anyone, kooks, and pogues alike. The worst nights were those that he came back from his house. Those nights were always the worst because the injuries on his body and the way that his soul sat shattered in front of me told me that he didn’t fight back.

JJ was sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes not daring to look up at me. His face covered in red splotches and bruised from the other fights he had gotten in over the week. Tonight was different though. Normally JJ talked about the way that he handed the Kook a can of whoop-ass or the guy had it coming and that he had ‘totally won’ the fight. Every other night he would boast saying “Y/N, don’t worry about me! You should see the other guy.” He would try to soothe my nerves, but tonight there didn’t seem to be another guy. Just JJ fighting himself, the thoughts raging war in his head, making him beat himself up.

I moved to sit beside him. Finally deciding to break the rooms heavy silence. “JJ, did you go home again?”

His breath caught in his throat as he slowly nodded his head. I saw his jaw clenched as he fought back the urge to let tears fall down his face. He rested his head in his open palms. I wrapped one of my arms loosely around the boy before laying my head on his shoulder. “Why do you go home JJ? Every time you come back you end up so broken?”

“It’s just a few bruises and split lips Y/N, nothing I’m not used to.” He said shaking his head.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” I spoke. I moved my hand so that I could rub his back. I moved softly up and down his spine, trying to comfort the broken boy in front of me.

“I deserve everything he says to me.” He started, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Every time

I go I know he’s ready for a fight.”

I took a moment to collect my thoughts. I took a deep breath before speaking. “JJ, getting into fights with your dad like that, the things he says to you.” I paused, looking over his face, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. “You know that they aren’t true right? He’s saying those things to hurt you?”

“I know that, but deep down I’m so scared that everyone else sees what he sees.” He signed leaning back and falling onto the bed. “I’m just so angry. I am angry at the system for screwing up so bad that they ran JB away.” My breath caught in my throat as he began his rant. “I am mad that we couldn’t do anything to help him after his dad left. I’m mad that we lost him and have no way to contact him or even know if he’s alive!’ He stood up beginning to pace, and raising his voice. “I’m mad that I pushed him on that boat to sail straight to his death Y/N!”

I stood up on my feet, moving so that I can be in his direct line of vision. “Hey!” I called to him, even though he was right in front of me, he felt a thousand miles away. “You did not push John B to do anything that he would not have done on his own! You have got to stop blaming yourself for all the unfortunate events that lead to John B’s disappearance. This on Ward Cameron and you know it!” I said pointing at him. He locked his eyes with mine for a moment.

He ripped his glance from mine, his jaw still clenched and nostrils flaring as he tried to even out his breathing. It took a few moments and several paces across the length of my room, but he seemed to calm down. “I’m-” He started, looking around the room and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m just so angry. All the time.” He confessed. “I’m honestly scared, it’s like all I can think about is how pissed off I am and the smallest things just add on top of it until I explode for what seems like no reason.” He stopped rubbing his hands over his face. “I just don’t know how to channel it, make it die down.” He confessed, moving to join me back at the end of my bed.

“You know, whenever my brother is upset he goes to the gym-” I started

“You are not seriously telling me to work out right now, are you?” He huffed rolling his eyes.

“Let me finish.” I scolded him before continuing. “He’s a boxer, the have matches and fight, but it is in a safe environment. One where you can let your anger out with out going home or exploding on some rando on the side of the street.” I said. I laughed awkwardly, trying to fill the silence as I gauged his reaction.

“You really think that would help?” He said, the softness in his eyes returning.

“It helped my brother”

It had become routine over the past few weeks that JJ came to my house so that I could help him prepare for whatever match he had lined up for that night. When he first started all the Pogues were supportive of JJ’s new interest, but after the first match, Kie and I decided that we would support him from afar. Neither of us could stomach the blows that JJ took in his first fight. I was happy that he was able to find a more acceptable outlet for his anger, it was still just as painful to clean JJ up after, or to hear from Pope about the hits that JJ landed or had taken. Pope always attended, Kie and I chalked it up to him being a boy and into that stuff, but we both know that he watched because he wanted to be there in case something went wrong.

Tonight was one of JJ’s biggest matches. He had been talking about it for weeks. The guy was from the mainland and was supposed to drag in a huge audience with him. He was being scouted as a professional, bordering on going pro. That bothered me because it had only been a short time since JJ had started boxing. While he had grown up his entire life fighting, boxing against people like this was much different than landing a few punches on Topper.

JJ was sitting on my kitchen table, I was right in front of him with his left hand in my own. I wrapped the sticky red tape around his hands, knuckles, and wrists. I pulled it tighter after each pass around his hand. “Please be careful tonight. These guys got a really good record.” I spoke softly, but the concern coating my voice was evident.

“I think I’ve got it though Y/N!” He said, happiness coating his voice. I just shook my head and switched his hands, beginning to wrap the right one. I was weary when JJ first mentioned the idea of the match, and still am, because the guy was well known and it just did not make sense that he wanted to come down to the OBX to fight a Newby. Things didn’t add up. Of course, none of us dared to tell JJ, because he was so happy, and he finally seemed to be getting back normal, no one wanted to set him off.

I finished wrapping his hands and handed him his gym shorts. I had got him some with his name on the waistband for his birthday the week before. While I couldn’t stomach to sit through the fights and watch them, I wanted him to know that I was supportive of him finding a healthy outlet for his feelings and grief. I had washed the shorts for him so that they would be fresh for him.

“All done.” I smiled, handing them to him. He took them into his newly wrapped hands. “So you look all spiffy when you win the fight tonight.”

“Spiffy?” He questioned causing us both to laugh. He reached forward pulling me into a hug. Whenever I touched JJ I melted into the warmth that his body gave off. He smelled like pine, I assumed it was from his deodorant, but it captivated me every time. He let me go after squeezing me tighter. “Thanks for, you know.” He said scratching the back of his neck. “Helping me with all of this. I wouldn’t even be doing this if it weren’t for you.” He said with a smile.

“Stop being so sappy Maybank!” I said and I turned him to the door. I put my hands on his broad shoulder pushing him softly towards the door. “Now go! You don’t want to be late.” He made his way to the door opening it and standing for a second to look back and smile.

“I’ll see you after right?” He questioned, the hope in his eyes was hard to miss.

“Wouldn’t want anyone else cleaning you up would we?” I joked, before answering him. “Yes I will, just make sure Pope tells me when you're finishing up and I’ll head that way to pick you up okay?” As I finished the car horn outside honked. It seemed to reverberate off the walls. “Now go! You know how Kie gets when you're running late!” I shooed him out the door. I stood watching them back out of the driveway as I waved to Kie and Pope in the car.

I walked to the TV, flipping it onto a random TV show before grabbing my sketchbook and settling into the couch. I had been working on a piece of a deer skull and a floral pattern. I was using ink to draw it. I got lost in stippling the dots on the paged, shading in the sides of the skull, and forming the cracked texture of the bone. I barely noticed the buzzing that came from my phone beside me. When I looked up the sun was setting, almost disappearing behind the horizon. The name flashed across my phone and sent me into an immediate panic. “Popey” was read across the screen, my stomach dropping when I set my eyes on the time. It was way too soon for the fight to be over. I quickly slide my finger across the bottom of the screen, seeing it click open.

I held the phone to my ear, “Hello, Pope? What’s wrong?” I could hear the panic in my voice. My body was moving so fast as I swiped my keys across the counter with a screech, and started through the garage to my car.

“Y/N.” I hear him say on my way out the door. There was pause filled with chants and yelling in the background, signaling that the fight was still happening. “Things don’t look good, Kie’s on her way, but JJ needs you to be here when he gets out.” I was nodding my head, but Pope couldn’t see me. “If he gets out.” My breath stopped in my throat, making me choke slightly on my own air. “ Y/N it’s bad, I don’t know why they won’t call the fight.”

I let out a shaky breath as I pulled myself into the driver seat of my car, slamming the door behind me with a thud. “I’ll be there as fast as I can Pope, Promise.”

“Hurry!” was all he said before the line went static. I pulled the phone down slowly, looking at it. JJ was really hurt. It was my fault, I wanted him to do this professionally. I snapped myself out of my guilty haze, picking my keys up from my lap with my shaking hands. I struggled to get the key into the ignition, before turning it to start it up. I turned out of the driveway as quickly as my mind would let me, leaving a cloud of dust behind me as pulled from the driveway.

I tapped the steering wheel with my thumb, my eyes flicking between the road and the number growing on the speedometer. The words of JJ and I’s conversation from just hours before replaying over and over in my head. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” Over and over again. I felt a warmth fall down my cheek. I touched my hand to my cheek only to find the warm wetness of tears falling from my eyes. I was shocked at the reaction that this event had on me. I felt like I was back to the night that we watched John B drive off on that boat. I felt that same sense of panic wash over me. What if this was it? “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” JJ was a fighter, literally, no matter what punches were thrown at him, he was always able to fight back. Part of me wanted to think rationally that Pope was overreacting and when I got there JJ might have a concussion and a bruised ego. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” If it was that bad why had they not stopped the fight, right? Pope had to be overreacting, it was Pope. He likes to be careful.

My fingers kept tapping a quick pace on the back of the I kept telling myself that over and over in my head. I was driving but everything around me was a blur. I was glad that I had the roads of the cut memorized so that I could get there in my haze of worry. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” I know what he meant by this, he meant that I had helped him, but I just didn’t feel helpful at that moment. I was the reason that he was fighting and trained a skillful fighter. This guy hardly ever lost a fight, but none of us wanted JJ’s improvement with his anger to stop, so we let him continue.

I hit the pothole in the gyms driveway, jolting me out of my thoughts. I fell back into the seat from the rough jump and dirt that was kicked up around me once again. I pulled into a spot at a dangerous speed. I practically threw the car in park and yanked my keys from the ignition. The sun seemed to paint the air around us a beautiful shade of orange, but my worry made me look past the beautiful sunset that was illustrated in the sky. Instead I approached the gym. I hadn’t stepped foot in for months now. The one that was seemingly making my worst fears come to life.

I scanned the parking lot looking for Kie. When our eyes met, I started making my way toward her. I broke into a jog, but quickly came to a halt, when I looked behind her. The red and white lights behind her become blinding. I stuttered stepped, coming face to face with her, but I could not look at her face. I was focused on the broken boy that was laid in front of me on a gurney. The blood on his face made him almost unrecognizable. I clenched my teeth so hard that I hurt. Pope was by his side, struggling to keep up with the boy on the gurney. Pope’s worried eyes met with mine that barely held back the tears. He said something that I couldn’t make out before pointing to us. I followed my eyes down to JJ, who’s eyes I met. Even from this distance, I could see the spark still in them. I felt my stomach drop and a wave of nausea hit me. I felt myself physically fall back and feel weak. He weekly raised his hand to wave at me weakly before they began wheeling him into the emergency vehicle. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” My arm felt like my shaking hand to wave at him, The barrier broke and the warm tears fell down my face. I felt the sob make it way up my throat, catching Kie’s attention once again. Her expression was a little shocked at my reaction but wrapped an arm around me pulling me into her. I glanced over to see her worried expression as she watched Pope.

Pope quickly made his way over to us after talking briefly with the medics. As soon as he was turned away from JJ, his expression turned to anger. Kie and I looked at each other, both silently questioning the boy’s actions. He got to us, visibly angry, his breath was heavy as he started walking back and forth. He threw his hat on the ground and ran a hand across his head in distress.

“What happened there?” Kie said being the first to break the tension.

“We shouldn’t have let him fight that guy!” He said, raising his voice making me visibly flinch. “There’s a reason that he always wins! He knocked JJ out in the 7th round!” He spoke looking me straight in the eye. I felt two inches tall and wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.”

I stepped back, it felt the air had been knocked out of my lungs. I heard the conversation that Pope and Kie continued to have, but they still felt miles away. I tried to listen and regain the ability to breathe.

“He had plaster in his gloves” Pope spoke loudly, as people walking outta the gym snickered, only making Pope’s anger grow. I snapped my head up at the tall boy, before looking at Kie, whose face held a confused expression. I knitted my eyebrows looking at Pope who just nodded, silently reinforcing his last statement.

“They caught on, but I’m gonna go back to talk to the fight manager, but y’all should go and meet him at the hospital.” He said, looking between me and Kiara.

Kie was quick to act, while I felt like I was still frozen in place. “Here,” she said, holding her keys out to Pope. “I’ll ride with Y/N and you can meet us there after you talk to whoever you need to?” She questioned, but she had alright dropped the keys in his hand. Pope nodded at the two of us before turning back to the gym.

I looked at Kie just as she placed her shaking hand on my wrist pulling me to the car. “Are you okay to drive? I mean do you think-” He started to mumble on.

“Yea, yea. I can. I think I got it.” I said send her a tight lipped smile. I could tell in her eyes that she knew neither of us believed me. Nonetheless, we both got into the car and made our way to a small emergency hospital on the Island, both of us praying that they had enough space for JJ. The entire car ride was filled with silent, sad, tension. The two of us stuck in our own thoughts, filled with worries about JJ’s health. Kie was the first to break the car’s heart-wrenching tension.

“What did Pope mean, when he said that he had plaster in his gloves?” Kie asked. She hadn’t been privy to the boxing world, much like me. My brother had told me that it was illegal. He knew a kid that got kicked out of his gym for doing it and had told me about it.

“It’s when boxer’s wrap plaster in their wraps and gloves and stuff.” I started, I stuttered over my words a bit, because I was unsure of what I was talking about. “As they sweat it makes the plaster harden or something,” I said shaking my head. The image of JJ getting hit over and over without a chance to fight back made me push the accelerator down and speed up on the long stretch to the hospital. “It essentially makes their hands like stone,” I said recalling the words my brother had used to tell me.

Kiara looked over at me with wide eyes. “That’s seriously fucked up!” She exclaimed. She let out a deep sign before falling back into the passenger seat. The rest of the ride remained silent, except for the news that was faintly being spoken from the radio.

When we pulled up to the hospital, it was all a blur from there. Kie could tell that I was worried and in a state of panic. She seemed to be rather calm about the situation, because of this she took the lead on speaking to the front desk. They pointed us to a waiting room saying that the doctor would come out after they examined him.

We sat in the cold metal chair in the waiting room. I tried to blame my shaking on the chill air that seemed to always be contained in hospitals, but I knew it was nerves. Kie placed her hand on my bouncing leg to stop it before looking up at me.

“Hey, It’s JJ.” She said moving to hold my hand in hers, giving me a soft smile. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach, alright?”

I laughed slightly at her joke, looking up to her with a hopeful smile on her face. “You’re oddly calm.” I stated, looking over her relaxed figure, slightly laid back in the chair, her hand resting still on the chair handle, the other firmly grasped in mine.

“Eh, like it said, JJ’s gonna be fine.” She smiled. She leaned forward a bit, resting her weight on the armrest that sat between us. “I am more interested in what is going on inside your head?” She said nudging me with her shoulders.

I took a deep breath, my eyes lining with tears once again. “Over the last few months JJ and I have gotten so close, and after everything with John B and Sarah I just-” I was cut off by a sob, which came out more like a cough. Kie was quick to move her hand to my back, rubbing small, comforting circles on my back. “I am scared to lose him too.” I said quietly, tears falling still, but at a much less rapid pace. Kiara pulled me into a tight hug. I took a deep breath, letting the scent of her coconut shampoo ground me. I closed my arms around her tightly before we split. Kie pushed a piece of hair out of my face softly.

“You’ve got it bad.” She said with a soft chuckle. I looked at her knitting my eyebrows together in confusion causing her to laugh. “You and JJ are so blindly in love with each other that neither of you can see it.” She spoke. Suddenly, things started to make a lot of sense. The way that my stomach dropped whenever JJ was getting into a fight or how I wanted to end Luke Maybank for the things that he did to his son. The most important thing that I had become accustomed to was the way that my stomach erupted in butterflies every time we were close to each other, the way my skin broke into goosebumps when we bumped into each other, or the way that I smiled every time he cracked a joke or showed up at work. I played with my fingers letting a smile spread across my face.I looked up at Kie sheepishly.

“I told you.” She smiled at me, causing me to roll my eyes at her.

We were taken from the serenity of our moment by the doctor calling for those that were here with ‘Maybank.” She informed us that JJ took a lot of hard hits but managed to leave fairly unscathed from such a brutal fight. She let us know that JJ had had a lot of minor injuries, a broken lower rib, and that he passed out due to a pretty serious concussion. It took Kie and I a moment to soak in the abundance of information. “With his current state, we think it would be best if you all went in one at a time.” The doctor spoke, looking between you and Kie.

Kie pushed my shoulder lightly. “I’ll wait here for Pope and fill him in. “She said, a cheesy smile plastering her face. “Go get your man,” She joked causing me to roll my eyes before following the doctor back through the long hallway. The fluorescent lighting made the hallway look and feel more daunting than it should have. The doctor stopped in front of the room letting me know that he was inside.

I smiled and nodded at her. I took a deep breath before preparing myself to enter. I walked through the doorway to see JJ playing with the IV cable that was hooked up to his arm. I was wrapped and tangled around the opposite hand. I laughed involuntarily at the blonde boys antics. He looked up at me, smiling when he realized that it was me. I felt a tsunami of relief wash over me, just seeing that, while he wasn’t completely unharmed, that he was going to be okay.

“There you are, come here!” He said patting the bed beside his legs. I walked into the room slowly, making my way to his bedside. I sat down and turned to look at his bright, smiling face. He scanned over my face, his smile quickly fading. “Wait, are you crying? “ He asked, reaching up to wipe the stale tears from my face.

“Yes JJ,” I said laughing at the boy's oblivious nature. “You looked terrible when they took you out on that gurney at the gym,” I said looking down at the crinkled white bed sheet in front of the two of us. “You scared me. I can’t lose you too.” I said quietly.

JJ hand came up once again cupping the side of my face, pushing me to look at me. “Hey now. You know better than anyone that it's gonna take more than some cheating ring rat to take me out.” Both of us laughed at the statement. I met his bright blue eyes, and instantly felt drawn in.

I didn’t think much about it before I did it. I leaned forward and pressed my lips into JJ's. The kiss started off still and innocent. JJ’s hand moved from my face to the back of my head pulling me in closer. I moved my hands to his shoulders, placing them softly trying not to hurt him. The kiss was passionate and heated, our lips molding together, allowing us to melt into one another. I felt light headed just from the kiss itself. I could feel JJ’s emotion poured into the way that he kissed me back and the way that his hands caressed my sides and the way that he held me close to him.

We were interrupted by the loud beeping of the monitor beside him. I pulled away looking at the machine that ruined the moment. The warning flashing “High Heart Rate”. I looked at JJ and saw the same warning causing us to laugh slightly.

“What was that about?” JJ asked, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“After John B and Sarah I thought I would have learned that time is finite, but I guess it took you, at least in my mind, almost dying for me to realize that I should just say something,” I said, laughing nervously. “Oh and Kie made me realize just how in love with you I am” I spoke rolling my eyes before realizing what I said. I felt my face heat up, as I looked over at JJ with wide eyes trying to gauge his reaction.

JJ grabbed my hand. Struggling slightly because of the awkward tangled IV that was stuck in the back of his hand. He huffed as he tugged at it trying to pull it out of the way. His hand was wrapped around mine when he started speaking. “You know, I’m glad she did because I’ve been in love with you all summer.”

Masterlist

Tagging b/c I asked:) @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @write-from-the-heart @jjmaybanksbaby @kikifromtheblock

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applepiry · 3 years

Text

Karasuno University (Chap 1)

Chapter One - How you became the Boys College Volleyball Club’s Second Manager

“College AU - Karasuno University”

Short Fem!Reader x Will Have Multiple Partners

Contains: Jealously? Other parts will have other key words but this is just kind of a first meeting

WC: 2.4k+

Y/N info:

Freshman (18), 5’1 (154 cm), hair that can be put into styles (trying to be as non descriptive with it as i can be!), large chested (D and up), thick thighed, extremely quick for short bursts (can't jump or run for long distances though)

History Major with Art Minor; wants to be a teacher or museum director

Was Manager/Club Advisor for Art Club starting second year due to the dedication she showed the third and second years during first year

Has a mother, father, and two older brothers

“L/N B#2” is in 3rd yr at Nekoma Uni (21)

“L/N B#1” is already married with twin girls, he is a Associate Lawyer in Tokyo (27)

(B#2 lives with him while Y/N lives with parents in Miyagi)

Parents own a bookstore with a small cafe “Cozy Nook” which belonged to grandparents but they needed help so YN and your parents moved back this year.

YN lives in the apartment above the store, and her parents live in the house behind it.

Childhood friends with Kiyoko Shimizu. Back in Middle School you were classmates with Tadashi Yamaguchi.

Moved from Miyagi to Tokyo, Nekoma High, during High School due to fathers job.

Other Notes: All the boys are at least 3-4 inches taller than they were during HS.

I have a headcanon that Tanaka and Noya’s intense possessiveness quirk transferred over to Hinata haha (He was similar with Yachi after all)

Haikyu Masterlist

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How you met the Karasuno Universities Boy’s Volleyball Team… And became Manager in Training

Monday

Your first day at Karasuno University was going decently, going through your day without much interest until lunch when you ran into your childhood friend, Kiyoko Shimizu, who had basically been your big sister. You two had been from the same neighborhood as children, and she was friends with your second oldest brother. You had formed a quick attachment to her, since she was much nicer to you than your brother was. She had been the manager of the Boys Volleyball Club back in high school, and apparently was here at the University as well.

She asked to catch up, and to meet her after practice had ended. You eagerly agreed, and knew you’d show up a little early to catch a glance at the surely hot volleyball boys. You hadn’t paid any attention back in high school aside from whether they won or lost, due to your own club activities, but you loved watching Volleyball. You actually weren’t too bad at it during PE, either. Surprisingly for someone so short, you were very quick when you wanted to be and were good at diving, since your plush chest and thighs often padded your slides.

After your last class, you went to the library to start on homework you’d already gotten. Once you had finished it, you looked at your phone and chewed on your lip as you noticed a text from Kiyoko, who let you know that practice would end around 7:00. Looking at the time, it was 6:00, and you figured it’d be a good time to head over. Packing up your stuff and slinging the bag across your shoulder, you head towards the boy volleyball’s practice gym.

Sighing to yourself, you’re not really sure what to expect, having never met any of them. Sure, she had told you all about them over text and phone calls but you never had any faces to match up to the stories, then when she had graduated you hadn’t heard anything the last two years about the club. You had become the Manager for your own club, Art Club, second year, so unfortunately had been too busy to even entertain the idea of meeting any of them during high school.

Plus, back then, you had hidden yourself behind glasses (whether you needed them or not), baggier clothing than needed and childish hairstyles, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. You had lacked the confidence to meet any boys, and honestly all boys did was pick on you. But, since then you had dedicated yourself to working on being so self conscious, learning to love your body and self after becoming Manager at the Art Club. Having so many people who depended on you and thought you were amazing was a really great confidence booster.

Getting to the gym at 6:40 due to your rather short legs and the gym being all the way across campus, you hear the rapid squeaking of tennis shoes from outside the door. Slowly, you open the door and crack it open, causing it to creak from the movement. Instantly, you feel eyes snap towards you, hearing a ball slap against the ground at the same time your eyes look up, seeing nearly the entire gym of boys staring at the door. At you.

All of a sudden you see red, but not in the “im angry” way, your vision is literally filled with red-orange hair.

“Hi! Who are you?!” his happy voice fills your ears, causing you to snap out of your trance and stumble backwards.

“O-Oh, hello,” you stutter out and grasp at your bag, biting the inside of your lip. “I’m L/N, I’m here to see Kiyoko-nee-chan?” you say, trying to find her but the boy in front of you was tall enough to block your view. Not a shock, considering you’re likely the shortest college freshman ever.

“Kiyoko?” he repeats, then turns and calls for her, “Kiyoko-senpai! There’s someone here to see you!”

Once he turns his shoulder, you can see nearly everyone in the gym, your eyes scanning over all the tall men. You nearly choke when you see most of them, well over a foot taller than you easily. Your eyes finally land on Kiyoko and you sprint towards her, across the gym in the blink of an eye.

“Woah,” the red head murmurs from the door.

“Kiyoko-nee-chan!” you whine, grabbing onto her for dear life. You had not mentally prepared yourself for so many tall men. Sure, your brothers and dad were tall but there were only three of them. You had only met a handful of guys unrelated to you this large before, as you tended to just avoid men as a whole.

She smiles softly and gently pats your hair, “I told you I would text you when I was done,” she murmured softly.

“It’s getting dark outside,” you murmur to her.

“Woah, that was some dash you did!” said a man with a deep tenor voice. Kiyoko quickly introduced Daichi Sawamura, the Captain of the team. You bowed, thanking and apologizing to him for interrupting their practice and allowing it. He waved it off, saying it was nothing since Kiyoko had mentioned you’d likely be stopping by. This confused you, making you tilt your head. What had he meant by that?

“Wait, wait, who is this that knows our beautiful Kiyoko!?” one of the boys says and your eyes land on a buzzed headed boy who looked like a delinquent.

“Yeah, yeah! Who?” says one of the shortest- no definitely the shortest- of the bunch with spiky hair, bouncing around just like the buzz-cut boy.

“Oh.. everyone, this is my childhood friend, F/N L/N-chan,” Kiyoko’s soft voice somehow fills the gymnasium and they all watch you with interest. “She’s back in town after having been in Tokyo for the last three years,” she added.

“Childhood friend?! What was in the water over there!?” the buzzed boy wonders loudly.

“Right?!” says the short one, “She’s just as beautiful as our Kiyoko!” he adds as he nudges the boy beside him.

Your face gets hot, making you look down in embarrassment, “T-Thank you, s-senpai’s…” you murmur shyly to them both when you realize they’re complimenting you.

Both boys blink and stare at you for a moment before they suddenly begin screaming and running around the gym. “DID YOU HEAR THAT?!” “SHE CALLED ME SENPAI!” you hear the boys excitement in each statement, but you’re not quite sure why they’re so excited. You had only been being polite.

The orange haired boy is in front of you again with a large smile, holding out his hand. “I’m Shoyo Hinata!” he chirped happily. “Wait, did Kiyoko-senpai say you.. went to Tokyo for high school? Which one?” he wondered, tilting his head.

You glance at Kiyoko for a moment and she nods, encouraging you to make friends. You look back at the other, who is a good 20 cm taller than you, while most of the others easily hit 30-40 cm taller, aside from the other short one who perhaps was only 15 cm taller. You take his hand, noting how much larger it is than your own.

“Nice to meet you… Yes, I did, I went to Nekoma...” you nearly whisper, looking into his big brown eyes. They flicker away from you when Daichi begins to speak. You realize you’re still holding Hinata’s hand, and he realizes as well as you both quickly pull away, both looking at the floor in embarrassment. He didn’t get a chance to reply before Daichi spoke.

“Hey team! Come meet L/N-chan!” Daichi said, surprising you. “Kiyoko wants to train her to be the next manager!” he told everyone.

You blinked, looking up at Kiyoko, confused. She smiled her sweet small smile and nodded, “Want to?” she wondered quietly. “I know you know a lot about volleyball…” she added. She quickly explained that it was easier with two managers, and their other manager, Yachi-chan, had gone to Tokyo for college, which left them with an open spot.

You thought about it as the boys all gathered around to meet you. Finally, you nodded, a bit excited to try this out. Kiyoko smiled a bit wider than usual and hugged you tightly. You hugged her back, forgetting all the boys watching the pair of you. When she pulled away, you remembered, your face getting hot again as you fidgeted a bit.

Turning to the team, you bowed, “I’m F/N L/N, pleased to meet all of you!” you do your best to be enthusiastic, keeping your head bowed for a moment before finally lifting your head.

Each of the boys introduces themselves, save from Daichi and Shoyo. Yu Nishinoya and Ryunosuke Tanaka getting rather close to you when they introduce themselves. Koshi Sugawara pulls them away and apologizes before introducing himself with a sweet smile.

You end up recognizing Tadashi Yamaguchi, as the two of you had been in the same class during middle school, and also had a few classes together this year as well. When meeting his giant of a friend, Kei Tsukishima, you nearly fell back just trying to look at his face.

Asahi Azumane introduces himself rather shyly, while Chikara Ennoshita, Hisashi Kinoshita and Kazuhito Narita are all quick and kind. Chikara mentions he’s looking forward to working with you, which makes you fidget nervously with your nails. The last one to introduce himself comes up to you, his body movements stiff as he holds out his hand to you, saying his name was Tobio Kageyama.

Tanaka and Nishinoya are dancing around like idiots, both of them excited to have another pretty girl around all the time. You let out a soft laugh when Hinata joined them, everyone staring at you in surprise for a moment. Your face heated up, shifting a bit as you got closer to Kiyoko. It was definitely going to be an adjustment getting used to the rowdy boys.

Daichi got everyone to start cleaning up, while you, Kiyoko and Coach Ukai started talking about all the things that would go along with learning to be a manager. Since Kiyoko was still here, you’d have less responsibilities but they did expect you to help out whenever asked. You promised them both you’d do your best.

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“Hey, hey, LN, what was that crazy quick run before?! It was like Zoom!” Hinata said from behind you, causing you to turn to greet him.

“Oh, yeah! I’ve only ever met Sho who was that fast! Like whoosh!” Nishinoya chimed in, appearing seemingly out of thin air.

“O-Oh, well, It’s only in short bursts and I.. erm, can’t do it much else…” you tell them with a soft nervous laugh. “I’m not that athletic, erm, but I do like Volleyball! I watch games all the time, and erm, I can toss a ball pretty okay!” you explain, tightening your hands into fists as you hyped yourself up, trying to push off those nervous jitters. Squeezing your hands close to your chest, you look up at the two before speaking again, “I’m going to do my best!”

Nishinoya was biting his jersey, yanking at it as he nearly screamed, “You’re so cute!” his voice sounding strained.

Tanaka appeared behind Nishinoya and grinned, “She really is!”

Hinata just looked away, but his bright red cheeks betrayed his thoughts.

Daichi appeared next to you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, “You’ll get used to them. They’re this way with Kiyoko too,” he said, his voice so gentle and yet so deep.

You smiled sweetly at him and nodded, “Thank you for that, Sawamura-senpai.”

“Daichi is fine, no need to be so formal,” he laughed. He gently pats your shoulder and leaves after that, the group gathering to go over the day's events since it was only their first practice this year together.

They mentioned how it felt to have the old gang all back together, and how they couldn’t wait to get to the College Nationals. You were a bit surprised at how focused and intense all of them looked. However, it was quickly overtaken by pride for your new club.

Once the meeting was over, Kiyoko offered to drive you home, telling you she needed to get changed and she’d meet you back here. Standing near the gym, you lean against a pole and fidget with your phone as you wait for her.

“Hey, LN-chan!” you turned to see Tadashi, panting softly as he ran towards you.

“Oh, hey, Yamaguchi!” you say happily, “I had totally forgotten you played Volleyball. I was surprised to see you,” you tell him.

“Same! I had no idea you knew Shimizu-senpai!” he said, nervously fidgeting with his bag. He seemed to be unsure what to say.

“Hey, should we exchange emails?” you ask, holding out your phone and opening it, ready to exchange information. His face lights up and he nods, tapping his phone against yours as the information transfers. Looking up, you see the tall blond behind him, staring at you, your eyes widening a bit, “Do.. you want to, too?” you wonder, tilting your head.

“Tch, no,” he snaps, his head quickly turning away as he begins to stride off.

“S-Sorry about Tsukki! Let’s h-hang out later,” Tadashi stutters out nervously before running off after his giant friend.

“What’s his problem?” you grumble.

“He’ll need to warm up to you,” a deep voice you recognize as Kageyama, standing there near the door.

“Oh, hey Kageyama,” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Can I get your info, too?!” you hear, your eyes landing on Hinata as he pops out from behind Kageyama. Where had he come from? But, you smile and nod, tapping your phone against his as the information transfers and saves. “T-Thanks!” he says, his eyes sparkling and wide.

“M-Me too!” Kageyama says, his voice stiff and formal, even if you are the same age.

“Us too!” “Yeah don’t leave out your senpai!” Tanaka and Nishinoya come around the corner, the two of them holding out their phones as they jog towards you.

After exchanging with them, Kiyoko comes back, and you finally make your leave with Kiyoko. With lots of waves and enthusiastic goodbyes.

Once in her car, she tells you a bit more about the boys and what the team is striving for as she drives you home, and you take all of it in, excited and nervous for everything that this new opportunity would bring.

Next Part

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thegalleonsnest · 3 years

Text

Wiggle’s Muse - Short Excerpt turned into a FanFic

Yo, so, I wanted to share a small snippet of a future project I’m working on (while also delaying my current art projects). What I’ve written out here in this post was originally in a format not meant for professional writing purposes, but I said “eh, why the hell not,” and written it out in sort of a short fanfic format for you guys to read. This project btw, is not a fanfic (had to make that clear). What I am working on is a very large scale project for myself and is still in the blocking out/rough draft phases. This right here is probably my most fleshed out scene I’ve written out, and feels pretty complete as it’s own thing. Honestly, I’d appreciate the feedback if any of ya’ll found this interesting!

Also I’m putting this in a tumblr post because I don’t have an AO3 or fanfiction account, and this is already too short for it anyway. Read the excerpt below

In front of the camera lenses, multiple grumpuses walk back and forth discussing a matter of topics but most importantly, where was Wiggle?

"Has anyone gotten ahold of Wiggle yet? She was supposed to be here hours ago,” a gruff voice coming from out of frame says. “We’ve tried calling her for over an hour, but we got nothing,” says another off camera, “do you think we should reschedule-” before they could finish, the studio doors bust open with a loud thud echoing the studio room. A tall, short armed grumpus with a boa stumbles along the room carrying an oddly shaped banjo.

“There she is,” said the gruff voiced grump, “Wiggle, whatever you got going on, you better do it now cause we got a meeting with investors in half an hour!” From the blurry view of a slightly out of frame Wiggle, she barely registered what the grump said. In a stumble, she walks to the center of the camera’s view & shakes her head, almost slurring her words, “Doooon’t worry, Darling, we’ll get you a new vest later.” “What, no, wait, that’s not what I-” before another word could be said, Wiggle readies her banjo and strikes a quick pose before strumming the strings like her life depended on it.

It didn’t take longer than a few seconds before the crew sprung into action, setting the proper lightning, mics and cameras around her. Her rhythm and measures became a lot more stable, catchy even, and then she broke into song. The next set of lyrics would become an instant, regrettable classic.

It’s not long before the VHS tape stutters and stops, showing mostly static. A magenta furred Grumpus with some hair covering a part of eye, hits the eject button, takes out the tape and turns off the tv. “Girl, you were a right mess there!” She said with a giggle. “Tell me about it, Vrittany...” Wiggle said frustratingly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And you’re telling me you can’t come up with anything better than that? Come on now!” “I wish I was lying, but I’m not. No matter what I come up with, nothing is topping whatever the heck my walking coma came up with instead!” Wiggle grabs her mug of coffee and takes a longing sip.

The two sit across from one another at the coffee bar. The aroma of that day’s set of cocoa beans waft through the cafe as most of the outside lamps fill out the darker spots inside. The place is nearly empty besides them, and a single muted green furred occupant sitting at a booth at the opposite end of the cafe, drawing away in his sketchpad.

“So, whatcha gonna do?” Vrittany asked sarcastically, “Stay awake for another week? Get inspired again? Hehe.” Wiggle sets her mug down, and answers, “I did try that again, but in style I fell asleep comfortably on a couch in the lobby”. Vrittany looked a bit stunned. “You’re kidding?! You’re crazy!” “Not crazy, Vrittany,” she takes another sip of her coffee before striking a pose in her high stool seat, bellowing out her voice. “Just creatiiiivly driveeeen~” “Whatever you say, darling,” Vrittany says before turning around to her bar’s sink. She cleans several mugs and glasses with gusto while preparing one last pot of coffee, enough for a single cup for later.

Vrittany takes off her apron and hangs it on the wayside of the counter as she walks around to take a seat next to Wiggle. After situating herself, she puts a paw on Wiggle’s shoulder. “Listen, pretty sure this is just a rut you’re stuck in right now,” she says. “Doesn’t every artist go through that every now and then?” Wiggle turns her head toward Vrittany, “Well..yeah, but this is different,” she desperately says. “I can’t let a song I made in my sleep be the best thing I’ve ever made! I know I can make something that’ll shake the world more than whatever ‘Do The Wiggle’ was.”

Vrittany pulls back her paw from Wiggle to put on her best thinking cap. As deeply in thought as she was, her face immediately relaxes into a deadpan expression, “Have ya tried singing from the heart?” Wiggle cracks a smile, “HA, if only that’s how it works! It takes a musical genius to write a hit song in show biz, not just some field day with my feelings.” “Eh, worth a shot. Got any other plans?” “I’m still trying to figure that out. I need some kind of inspiration...almost like a-”

Before she could finish her thought, they both caught a glance at the muted green furred grump who walked up to them. He mustered up the words and said, “E-excuse me, you’re Miss Wiggle, right?” Wiggle turned in her seat to get a better look at the young Grumpus. She could tell he was nervous, clutching his sketchbook in his arms rather tightly. She quickly put on a more relaxed front to help calm things down, while also still showing off a bit of her excited side. “Why yes I am, Darling,” she said enthusiastically. “And I can tell you must be a fan of mine.” “Y-yeah...!” The green grump looked a little more relaxed, but still stiff in the shoulders. “Hey now, no need to be so nervous. I always got time for my fans.” “Thank you, Miss Wiggle. Um…” “No need to finish that thought, Darling, I know what you’re about to ask and I’m happy to oblige!”

Before the young man could stop to say something, Wiggle pulls out one of her many professional hand out photos that she has, and quickly signs with her autograph before handing it to him. “O-Oh, thank you, Miss, but that’s not what I was going to s-say.” he sheepishly says. “Really? Not an autograph,” Wiggle says surprisingly. “It’s usually the first thing fans ask of me.” “Sorry, I just...I wanted to show you this sketch I made…”

The nervous grumpus slowly turns his sketchbook around to reveal a fully sketched art piece depicting a stylized Wiggle singing her heart out at the bar with Vrittany hanging out in the background cheering her on. He hands it to Wiggle to give them a closer look. It was still somewhat messy, showing a few guidelines and early roughed out shapes, but for what it was, it was still impressive to the two girls.

“Woah, that’s pretty rad!” Vrittany yelled out, leaning out from her seat trying to get a closer look. Wiggle was pretty stun, gasping at the sight of such a piece of artwork. “Darling, you drew this?! Just now,” Wiggle asked in awe. “Yeah! I was listening to some of your music and then you came in and sat down. It made me wanna draw you as fast as I could,” the green grumps says excitedly before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry if it’s still a little messy looking though…” “Don’t be, because it is beeeaautifuuul~” “T-thank you so much, Miss Wiggle! T-that means a lot to m-me!” the grumpus says while his face lights up red from the praise. “You’re like an inspiration to me.” “Really now? Like a muse? All I do is sing the night away, Darling. You draw little masterpieces like this from me?”

As Wiggle continues to be enthralled by the young man and his work, Vrittany notices the coffee pot had finished brewing. She gets up from her seat and go back behind the counter to finish her last cup for the night. Wiggle and the green grump continue their conversation.

“W-well kind of,” says the grump, “it’s a bunch of music that inspires me when I draw. A lot of your stuff is so upbeat and fun, it gives me lots of different ideas to pump out!” Wiggle looks back, almost flabbergasted. “I’m...honestly a bit stunned that I had that kind of impact on you, Darling,” she says, almost with a melancholy tone, “...heh, kind of forget sometimes I do make some kind of impression on grumps like you.” She looks back down at the sketchbook, entranced by the creativity that sparked in the moment. That dazzling moment where it all clicked...where could she find that, when someone else can find it in her?

After an awkward minute of silence, the young grump spoke up and said, “If you like, you can keep the sketch page, Miss Wiggle?” Wiggle snapped her head back up from the sketchbook to the green fuzzball. “W-wait really? Are you sure you wanna give up this piece of art?” said Wiggle worryingly. “It’s no problem at all,” said the green grump proudly. “I already took a picture of it to save for later. I’m gonna make a painted version of it online later! Besides, it’ll make me happy if you kept it, since I was going to give it to you anyway.” “Oh Darling, you’re nothing more than a sweet one now, aren’t you? I’ll gladly keep it!” “Thank you so much, Miss Wiggle!”

Wiggle hands the sketchbook back to the green grumpus and he tears out the sketch. “No, Darling, thank you,” Wiggle says ecstatically. Vrittany returns from behind the bar with a to-go cup in hand, saying “Here’s your order, kid.” “Oh, thank you, Vrittany. How much was it again,” the green grump asked. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Don’t feel like counting change. It’s on the house.” “O-oh you sure?” “You wanna change my mind?” “Don’t think I can, so thank you!” The green grump turns back to Wiggle and says “It was so nice meeting you in person, Miss Wiggle!”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dar-,” Wiggle catches herself before she realizes something. “Actually, what was your name?” “It’s Grite, Grite Tillsland!” Wiggle lets a genuine soft smile grow on her face. She felt a lot more at ease and happier knowing her new friend was much more relax and happy overall. She reached out her paw for a handshake, and Grite reciprocated.

“The pleasure’s mine, Grite, Darling.”

#Bugsnax #Wiggle Wigglebottom #TheGalleonsNest Writing #Fic #wip excerpt #Bugsnax Fanfic #Hope you guys enjoy a taste of what's to come #even when there's very little context #I've got multiple large scale projects lined up #this is just one of them #I hope to officially start it this year #but there is still a lot of backend work to be done #and also I got tons of art to make too before then

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bookshelfdreams · 3 years

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Ahhhh, your self bound books just look really beautiful? All the color choices and the layout just look soooo good together. And that's such a beautiful gift? I have not read primium non nocere, as I haven't watched Charité but if it is worthy of such a tribute I am definitely giving it a shot anyway. I'd also be really interested of your creative process and choices with the binding, if you're willing to talk about that

hi omg! thank you so much <3<3 Primum Non Nocere is a very good story, and I'd say even if you haven't seen the show, give it a shot anyway, if you're interested? I mean, by all means, try the show as well, season 2 is on Netflix w english subs afaik and it's also really, really good (not perfect, but leagues better than the stuff this country usually makes abt the nazi regime). It's a retelling of canon events from a character's perspective who isn't a focal character in the show - there's probably one or two points at which it skips canon events or may seem a little jumpy, but overall, it's more of a companion piece to canon than a classic fanfic. It's very well researched and detailed; it expands on canon in beautiful ways and honestly, fits with it seamlessly; it might as well be an official novelization (although its focuses are a little different than the og)

as for the bookbinding, I'm really flattered you're interested in my process! I'm still very much a beginner, but I'm slowly figuring out something that works for me.

Also, I don't really know what information you're looking for, so I'm just gonna share some things that come to mind. This isn't really a step-by-step how-to but if you're interested in that, I can try to take some pictures next time I make a book and make a better reference post.

Typesetting

I typeset in OpenOffice because that's my office suite of choice & I'm old; I have never used google docs and I don't plan on starting. I download the fic in html, and then just copy/paste the text chapter by chapter; that's easiest for me. As for fonts, I wanted it to look vintage but I definitely didn't want it to have Nazi aesthetics. I went with Baskerville for the main text (which is such a beautiful font, it might become my go-to) (Garamond is what is most commonly used in books I think, but it almost looks too professional for me. I love that Baskerville has this very distinct, vintage feel to it.) and an Art Deco font for the title and chapter headings. Overall I think it looks more 1920's which, considering that the Nazis really hated the Weimar republic, seems fitting. I'm happy with how it turned out and I hope the author is, too :) As for the rest, it's set in 16pt, 120% line spacing and the margins could be a little larger, tbh, but it works and I'm a little stingy with the paper XD

OpenOffice also lets you draw simple graphics directly onto the document which is what I did for the title page and the little ornaments at the beginning of the chapters.

To make signatures, I use Quantum Elephant Bookbinder. It does what it's supposed to, the only thing that doesn't quite work is the flyleaf option, but I can just add that in the og pdf.

Book construction

I print on copying paper, 80gsqm. It's recycling, 55CIE which is really quite grey; I like it, because white is uncomfortable for me to look at. As for grain, I cut my sheets from A3. The grain is also wrong there, so I ended up wasting half the paper. Whatever; I think it's worth it. Having the grain in the right direction (parallel to the spine) makes it feel so much more like an actual book and not just a stack of copying paper stapled together. I honestly believe it's more important than having fancy paper.

After folding, I do not use a model and an ale for punching holes; instead I put all the signatures together in my makeshift press (2 old cutting boards and 2 bar clamps), I draw some guidelines and then I use a fine saw to cut them all at once.

I sew the signatures on tapes for stability; it makes keeping consistent tension easier. I use linen bookbinder's thread (worth it) and cotton tapes from the craft store (they do their job, and linen sewing tapes are hard to source & expensive). I do not have a sewing frame; but what I do is, I tape the tapes to the underside of my cutting mat, place the signature on top (fold aligned with the edge of the mat) and use a weight to keep it in place. It works okay.

After sewing, I round the spine with this method, which works surprisingly well. I do not trim the edges (I know myself well enough to know that it would not end well) & instead tap the short sides & spine to the table to align the signatures as perfectly as possible.

The rest is done as in pretty much any other tutorial. No backing, because I don't have equipment for that. I like to sand down the edges of the cover boards a little, so they're a bit rounded; I think it makes for nicer haptics.

Decorations

I like to make as much of the book myself as possible. There's several reasons for that; first of all, fancy handmarbled or printed paper, headbands, bookmarks etc are expensive. Second, I have a crafting addiction & what's the point of projects like this when you buy everything you could make yourself, right? But thirdly (most importantly) it's simply that my book blocks look pretty shitty (that's, untrimmed and uneven). But that's okay; you gotta embrace the "amateurishly handmade" look & just have to amateurishly handmake everything. Adding just one or two perfect, machine-produced details looks kinda jarring.

Paper decoration - mix water soluble paint and wallpaper paste and go wild (videos are in German, sorry, idk if this is a thing that's really done in the anglophone world? But I think they're pretty easy to follow even if you don't understand the instructions). I like to use this for covers, mainly, I'm also experimenting with decorating endpapers this way. The paste makes the paper really rough and horrible to the touch; as the very last step, I wax the cover (with a beeswax-based furniture polish. Floor wax works as well, it just doesn't smell very nice). Be careful not to get any on the bookcloth, it will cause stains & ruin everything at the last second.

Headbands - I found this tutorial very helpful.

Bookmarks - this gave me so much trouble. Most amateur bookbinders seem to use cotton, polyester or satin ribbons, which is fine, I guess. I don't particularly like either option. At first I thought I could weave my own; that didn't work out, because weaving tiny bands is harder than it looks (& also the resulting ribbon was much too stiff). But! Bookmarks in professionally made books aren't woven at all; they're braided. Seven-stranded braids work pretty well (tutorial is for 5 strands, but 7 strands work the same). As for the headbands, embroidery floss is best imho (silk would, of course, be traditional but come on). Mercerised cotton crochet thread works as well but isn't quite as nice.

this turned out way too long lol. Sorry. Hopefully the answer you were looking for is in there somewhere. Again, thank you and have a lovely evening!

#also feel free to ask if theres anything more youd like to know #<3 #hoard of fanfiction #anonymaus #message

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ghosttotheparty · 3 years

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say my name and say it twice (cotton candy skies)

28. also on AO3 chapter twenty seven

It’s not that Lucas isn’t happy.

He is happy. Truly, really, entirely. He wasn’t expecting to be happy if he’s honest. He was kind of expecting to be alone for the most part. Moving in with a cousin he hadn’t seen in years, with two strangers he didn’t even know by name before the day he was moving boxes into his room, he wasn’t expecting to be very happy, wasn’t expecting to look forward to coming home in the evening, to play board games and cook while watching Milan and Senne slow dance to an upbeat, electronic song that’s in no way a song to sway to. He wasn’t expecting to have people who are actually supportive of his art, to have people ask to see what he’s working on, to have people ask questions, about how long it takes or what materials he uses. He wasn’t expecting people to surprise him with new sketchbooks (complete with a red, metallic bow, though it’s months until the holidays, thanks to Milan) and pencils.

He wasn’t expecting to have friends, wasn’t expecting to have a friend to talk about art with, to text about a work in progress that he’s having trouble with. He wasn’t expecting to have plans with said friend, plans to meet up at a cafe and bring sketchbooks, plans to hang out, something he hadn’t really done (except with Jens) since moving. Especially because he isn’t even going to school in person, he’d expected to spend most of his time in his room, studying and working and drawing and painting.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to have a boyfriend. He had honestly expected to not date, not even talk to anyone, until university.

But here he is.

Feeling more comfortable, more safe, more him than he’d ever felt before. No one asks about his nails, painted a sparkly, light pink, or about the thin black lines above his lashlines. (Jens had gazed at him as he spoke, his eyes flicking back and forth between Lucas’s before Lucas finally let out an exasperated “What?” at Jens’s distracted behaviour, forgetting he was wearing it. Jens had smiled and said quietly “The eyeliner looks pretty,” and Lucas had been so overwhelmed with joy, with relief, that he’d just leaned in and kissed him, forgetting completely about what he was telling Jens.) Nobody questions the sheer button-downs in the laundry room or the butterfly hair clips and makeup brushed scattered across his desk. Things he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in Utrecht, things he wouldn’t mention to his friends (except Ralph and Noah, maybe), things he would hide away in the back of his closet (he’s aware of the irony), things he would bury under other clothes, in boxes under his bed.

He doesn’t have to be afraid here, doesn’t have to hide, doesn’t feel like he has to hide. He leaves his things out, grins sheepishly when Zoë scolds him for leaving his makeup out in the bathroom because it gets mixed up with hers.

He feels safe. Secure. Comfortable. Limitless.

But when he remembers Utrecht, remembers Kes and Jayden and Isa and his other friends from school, his heart sinks a little bit.

They don’t know about this, about this new Lucas. They don’t know about the nail polish, the butterfly clips, about the eyeliner or the sheer fabric. When they think about him (though he’s beginning to doubt that they even do), they probably think about hoodies, skateboards, short hair, about him kissing girls at school.

They don’t know him.

Lucas sighs, falling onto his back on his bed. He tucks a hand under his head, refraining from chipping the polish on his nails, tanging his fingers in his hair.

He thinks maybe there’s a chance he won’t have to worry about it, about them not knowing him. He barely talks to them, save for a meme every once in a while from Isa. He hasn’t talked to Jayden since their last video call, since he told Lucas he seemed weird. Kes has sent him a “Hey” text but the conversation dwindled until it was gone in just a few minutes.

A part of him mourns it. A part of him grieves.

It feels like he’s losing a part of him, a part of his life. His childhood, the parts of his life that were there when he became human. (Although that still feels like it’s happening. Maybe being human takes time. Practice.)

He did manage to talk to them yesterday, Jayden and Kes, and they’d all managed to schedule a time to meet online. He’s been nervous, the same kind of nervous he felt when he had to break up with a girl from school. “It’s just not going to work with us,” he’d told her, feeling bad even though he knew there was nothing he could do to make it work. Somehow it feels the same right now. There’s the same pit in his stomach, the same lump in his throat.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to them.

He has no plans.

He covers his face with his other arm, his elbow covering his eyes, blocking out the light coming in through the window. It’s golden light, the afternoon just coming to an end, and usually, he’d be up at his window, watching the sun go down. But now his throat feels stuck, his stomach knotted.

---

It’s a while before they call.

His phone buzzes first, on the bed next to him, and he uncovers his face, forcing himself to get up in a bleary stupor, ignoring the way his heart rate picks up, ignoring the tremor of his hands as he sets his laptop down on his bed and sits criss-cross in front of it, ignoring the way he suddenly feels spacey, unfocused in his own mind.

Before he realises, both their faces are on the screen in front of him. He’s vaguely aware that his room might be too dim for them to see him clearly, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe this way they won’t be able to see the pink powder set across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Hi.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, man.”

Maybe it’s just Lucas’s anxiety, but it sounds like they know. Like they know what he’s about to tell them, what he’s feeling, dreading.

“I, uhm…” He swallows down his nausea, looking at them both, Kes to Jayden, Kes to Jayden, left to right, right to left, left to right, right to left. “There’s something I wanna tell you.”

“Okay,” Kes says, nodding, prompting.

Lucas takes a deep breath, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands, fidgeting.

“So I…” There aren’t any specific thoughts in his mind right now, nothing telling him what to say, how to say it, where to look, what to do. “I don’t really know how to say this.”

“Just say it,” Kes says, his face looking concerned. Jayden is quiet.

“I’m gay,” Lucas says, and then he can’t stop.

“And I know it might be weird or… yeah. It’s just, I’m out over here, in Antwerp, and I felt like I was lying to you because I’m different here than I was in Utrecht, but I didn’t want anything to change, but it feels like stuff was already changing, and I figured I couldn’t do anything about it so I thought… might as well.”

He looks up at them, pulling his eyes away from his quickly moving hands, where he hadn’t realised he was looking, and they both just look… blank.

“I mean we haven’t been talking much at all,” he continues, unable to help himself, his voice rapid, “and I thought maybe it was just the distance and it was weird at first but then it just turned into me thinking that you guys just didn’t like me and you were, like, waiting for me to leave, but it just got confusing.”

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feeling it desperate to get out even though, in a way, it’s just escaped.

They continue to stare. He thinks for a second that they’re frozen, that the connection is bad, but the fan behind Jayden continues to spin, Kes’s eyes continue to blink.

“I know we’re… drifting apart,” he says after a few painful seconds. “I’m not trying to fight it, I just… I just want you guys to know me. And it’s okay if we don’t talk anymore, like it’s not… I know how it is. I’m still…” He shrugs. “Grateful. I love you guys. And I always will, I’ll always be here for you, I’ll always have your back. But it’s okay.”

“Luc,” Kes says suddenly. “We don’t care that you’re gay. I mean, we care, obviously, but it’s not like it’s all we care about. It just feels like you’re so different.” He leans forward, looking away from the camera, from the screen, moving his hands as he talks.

“It feels like we don’t know you,” Jayden adds.

“Maybe you don’t.” He shrugs. “I mean, if I’m honest, it wasn’t like I was really me in Utrecht.”

Silence.

“What are you talking about?” Jayden asks in a small voice.

“I just…” Lucas shifts, pushing himself up before setting himself down again, uncrossing his legs before recrossing them, the left over the right, his shoulders tense, uncomfortable. “I’m gay,” he says, unsure of how to continue, how to explain himself.

“You said,” Kes interjects. “That’s fine.”

Lucas smiles softly before continuing.

“I’m gay, but I’m like, gay gay. Like you guys remember me with like, hoodies and—and stuff,” he stammers, averting his gaze and looking around the room. His hands fumble on his sleeves, tugging and rubbing the fabric as he tries to not let the walls close around him. “But I’m a fucking stereotype. I’m gay, and I like sparkles, and makeup, and sometimes I like to wear skirts. And I’ve always been like this, but I was so fucking embarrassed about it that I never, like… Did anything about it.”

His voice cracks at embarrassed. He doesn’t remember ever saying it before. He glances at the screen before looking away, feeling like they’re both sitting in front of him, in person, real. His eyes sting, and he swallows, choking slightly.

“But when I got here, there was no one I knew, and I didn’t feel like I had to be scared of being me. I didn’t feel like I had to worry about confusing anyone or making anyone uncomfortable, and I could just… exist like I wanted.”

“Luc,” Kes says at the same time that Jayden opens his mouth. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” His voice is soft, and when Lucas looks at him, his eyes look glassy on Lucas’s computer screen.

“Lucas, we love you,” Jayden says, and Lucas lets himself go.

He covers his face with his hands as his eyes squeeze shut, tears rolling down his cheeks, his heart pounding. The walls fall away. After forcing his face to relax, he takes a deep, shuddering, stuttering breath and drops his hands, looking to the screen.

Kens is wiping under his eye, smiling.

Jayden has his face in his hands, looking back at Lucas, who laughs lightly, not knowing what to do.

“Sorry,” he gasps, looking away as he wipes another tear from his cheek, rubbing the side of his covered hand across his face.

There’s a moment as they all collect themselves, wiping their faces, taking deep breaths, and it’s broken by Kes.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, looking at Lucas earnestly.

“For what?”

“For…” Kes pauses, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand covering part of his face. He takes a sharp breath before continuing. “Making you feel like you had to hide.” His voice is thin.

“Kes,” Lucas starts, leaning closer, shaking his head. “It wasn’t you, it was just…” He waves his hand vaguely. “Everything.”

“I hate everything,” Jayden says, and Lucas laughs.

“Everything’s getting better.”

They nod, and Lucas smiles weakly, wiping his face once again. His shoulders release, exhausted, and he rubs his face, suddenly drained. He takes a deep, heavy breath.

“Dude?” Jayden’s voice says, breaking for just a split second through the iffy connection, and Lucas looks at him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Lucas scoffs, grinning as he covers his face, his fingers pressed to his forehead. He hears Kes let out a loud “O-o-o-hhh…” and laughs harder, looking to the screen in time to see Kes pushing himself up and then laying down on his stomach after pushing his laptop away from himself, resting his chin in his hands. Lucas looks away, feeling his face burn.

It’s back.

Everything he’d missed with them, every time he wished he could talk to them, tell them something. Every time he’d wanted to text them, call them, hear them. Every opportunity he’d skipped, every chance he hadn’t taken. Here it is.

“Tell us!” Jayden exclaims, interrupting Lucas’s thoughts and soft smile.

“He, uhm…”

“What’s his name?” Kes prompts.

Lucas pauses, looking away, still smiling, biting his lower lip.

“Jens.”

“Jens…” Jayden repeats. “Tell us about him.”

“He, uhm…” Lucas says again, laughing at himself. “He’s great.”

Jayden waves his hand, trying trying to prompt him, but when it shows to be unsuccessful, he says “In what way?”

“Oh, Jesus…” Lucas falls onto his back, looking up to the ceiling. He hears them both laugh. Maybe he was also missing something like this; being able to talk about Jens freely, as his boyfriend, not having to worry about skipping over anything that would make him seem like anything more than a crush. “He’s just amazing,” he says, sitting back up and looking at them. They’re both grinning, and Lucas can almost see the familiar gleam in Kes’s eyes through the screen, the gleam he used to be so captivated by.

Jayden waves his hand again.

“He’s…” Lucas sighs. “Nice, and kind, and considerate… He’s so gentle.”

They both smile, not saying anything.

“He’s so funny,” Lucas continues. “He has a dumbass sense of humour, I think you guys would get along with him.” He ignores the simultaneous “Hey!”s, and suppresses a smile. “He can always make me smile, it’s incredible.”

“Are you in love with him?” Kes asks.

Lucas is quiet for a second, his eyes unfocused, a mindless smile lingering on his face.

“I think so.”

Jayden lets out a soft squeal and Lucas laughs out loud.

“You think so?” Kes says, ignoring it. “You don’t know?”

“I think I am. We haven’t…” Lucas sighs, leaning back on his hands. “We haven’t said it.”

“Why? How long have you been together?” Jayden asks.

“A while. We met a little after I got here.”

“You don’t have an exact date?”

“Not really. We were like… flirty and stuff from the start. And I kissed him and then we didn’t really say anything about it. But it was still there, like the thing between us. You know?”

“So why haven’t you said it?” Kes asks, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “If you’re sure?”

“I just don’t think I really have to, I guess.” He leans forward again, dropping his hands in his lap. “I mean, he knows how I feel about him, I know how he feels about me. It works.”

“That’s really cute,” Kes says softly, and Lucas gives him an exaggeratingly sweet smile, shrugging a shoulder up until it presses into his cheek.

“Are you guys alike?” Jayden asks.

“You mean are we both flamingly homosexual?” Lucas says with a laugh.

“I—Sure.”

“Uhh…” Lucas takes a deep breath, leaning and stretching his back before sitting the way he was before, his back hunched over. “He’s bi. And also, like, more masculine than me. Except…” He almost giggles, pressing the backs of his fingers to his cheek, trying to suppress his smile.

“What?” Kes’s voice says.

“He’s a ballet dancer, but other than that he’s more masculine than me.”

“Oh my god.”

“Da-a-amn, Lucas.”

He giggles for real this time, covering his face, his eyes scrunching up under his smile.

“Have you seen him dance?” Kes asks.

“I’ve seen him do just like little combinations but I haven’t seen him do a full dance. But he got the solo in his studio this year, and he wants me to go to the recital, so…”

“Ooooo. Exciting,” Jayden says, clapping his hands together lightly. “When is it?”

“In a few weeks. He only just found out recently and we went to celebrate at a cafe with some of his friends. And I’m going over to his later today.”

“Oop, you know what that means,” Kes says with his eyebrows raised and his head tilted, his eyes on his own computer screen averting and Lucas knows he’s looking at Jayden. Lucas rolls his eyes as Jayden wiggles his brows and his shoulders, letting out another “Ooooo…”

“I’m gonna hang up on you.”

“No, don’t!” Kes says, holding a hand out like he can stop him.

“How’d you meet?” Jayden asks after taking a second to stop laughing.

Lucas sighs before getting into it.

“So I like to just wander the city, right…”

---

A few minutes after they hang up, Lucas’s phone vibrates. It’s on his bed, and he’s setting a canvas against the wall on his desk, so he finishes first, making sure it’s set securely and won’t fall. As he’s slowly pulling his hands away from the painting (a messy abstract in oils), his hands open in front it, ready to catch it if it falls, he hears it vibrate again. He waits for a second, and the painting doesn’t fall, so he turns and lays on the bed, expecting a text from Jens.

But it’s from Jayden.

I’m sorry about what i said last time

Lucas pauses for a second before responding, forgetting what he’d said in the high of having finally talked to him and Kes, for real.

it’s okay

Jayden begins typing just a second after, and Lucas waits, his eyes focused on the screen.

no it’s not, i was mean

As Lucas begins typing, Jayden types again.

youve changed but its a good change

Lucas smiles softly.

i only really changed visibly, ive always been like this

youre right, ik you seem happier im happy for you im proud of you

Lucas almost laughs, imagining how Jayden cringing at himself sending these messages. But they seem heartfelt.

thanks, jayden

His smile softens as Jayden responds.

i love you, man and i support you and im here for you and i will NOT HESITATE to fight jens if he hurts you

im not expecting him to but thank you anyway i love you too

--- Lucas only gets nervous after he’s knocked.

A sudden burst of anxiety erupts in his chest, realising he doesn’t know whether Jens’s mom and sister have left yet. He does hope they have, of course, but as he waits, not hearing anything from behind the front door, he tries to think of what he’d say if one of them answered.

Lotte, he figures, would probably recognise him as the FaceTime guy. Whether she’d say hello, or say anything to imply that she knows him, he doesn’t know. Jens’s mother would probably as who he is, and, if he’s honest, would probably be taken aback by his appearance.

He’s wearing a pink sweatshirt, for starters, his favourite one, with little ruffles at the shoulders, and a hood, though it isn’t pulled over his head right now. His hair is kept out of his face with a silver hair clip (he decided not to use the pink one because it didn’t match the sweatshirt), and there’s purple eyeshadow brushed on the outer corners of his eyes. (“If you ever want to borrow some lipstick, let me know,” Zoë said, watching him as he focused, his tongue touching his lip, the small brush blending the purple into his skin.)

The corners of his eyes wrinkle as he smiles when it’s Jens who answers the door, after taking a quick sigh of relief.

“Come inside; you’re not cold?” Jens asks, tugging Lucas in by his sleeve. He presses a quick kiss to his mouth as he shuts the door behind him.

“This sweatshirt is really warm, actually.”

“Hm.”

Lucas wraps his arms around Jens’s neck, kissing him again, slower, smiling softly against his mouth. Jens pulls away, smiling as he looks at Lucas, his eyes going back and forth between Lucas’s. He brings his hands up and pushes a curl out of his face, gently taking down the barrette and clipping it again with the curl. When he drops his hands to Lucas’s shoulders, he’s quiet, his eyes soft.

“What?” Lucas whispers.

“You look pretty,” Jens says softly. His thumb brushes gently, so gently Lucas almost can’t feel it, under his eye, touching the purple. Lucas smiles, his face blooming pink, and lifts his chin, asking for a kiss.

“You have a good day?” he asks when they part, and Jens nods, pulling him down the hall to his room.

“I had a long day,” he says, “because I was waiting the whole time to see you.”

“Aw, baby…” Lucas pouts his lower lip out, batting his eyelashes until Jens snickers, pulling Lucas in by his waist. As their lips touch again, Lucas’s hands slip up to his head, his fingers tangling in his hair and tugging as Jens’s tongue slides between his lips.

He tastes sweet, and Lucas hums into his mouth, feeling Jens’s hand creep around his waist to the small of his back and then down his backside, sliding to the backs of his thighs and pulling. Lucas giggles, letting go of his hair and gripping the collar of his shirt as Jens picks him up, biting down on his lip gently, stepping across the room to his desk and setting him on it, tilting his head and sliding his hands down Lucas’s legs, leaving trails that are somehow simultaneously hot and cold in their wakes.

They pull away after a little bit, and Lucas’s heart swells upon seeing that Jens’s lips are red (and he assumes his own are too).

“Oh, guess what I did today?” he says softly, suddenly remembering what it was that he’d actually planned on telling Jens.

“Hm?” Jens’s eyes are half-closed, his hands firmly placed on Lucas’s hips, and Lucas sweeps his thumbs across his cheekbones.

“You remember my friends I told you about? Kes and Jayden?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He’d mentioned them to Jens, short anecdotes about Utrecht, stories about school and parties, also mentioning Isa and Liv. He’d told Jens about how he felt they were drifting apart, telling him about the call with Jayden and how he’d felt, how he was scared to lose them but felt it was inevitable.

“I called them this morning.”

Jens’s eyes open up a bit. His thumbs move in little circles over his hips.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And?”

Lucas tries unsuccessfully to suppress a smile, his fingers playing with the strings of Jens’s hoodie.

“I came out to them,” he says, feigning nonchalance.

He looks up when Jens remains silence, stifling a laugh when he sees Jens’s wide eyes and a smile just playing at his lips.

“Hm?”

Lucas covers his mouth with a hand, leaning in so his forehead presses to Jens’s and then pulls away when Jens’s hands press against his hips.

“You did what now?”

“I told them about you,” Lucas says, lifting his chin in mock pride, resting his hands on Jens’s shoulders. “And about how I’m super, super gay.”

“About me?” Jens says in sarcastic confusion, pointing to himself and raising his eyebrows. “You told them about me?”

“I told them all about you.”

“All about me?”

“Well,” Lucas says, looking away and cocking his head for a second as he placing his hands back in Jens’s hair. “Just what they need to know.”

“And that would be…”

Lucas sighs, kissing him briefly.

“Just that you make me happy. And you’re a dancer, which they think is fucking fantastic. Kes says when he visits he wants to see you dance.”

“Kes is visiting?”

“Eventually. No plans so far.”

“Mm.”

Lucas quirks his eyebrows at him.

“I’m proud of you,” Jens murmurs after a second, kissing his forehead softly.

Lucas beams, his cheeks pink, and he wraps his arms around Jens’s neck again, looking at his face.

It takes a few seconds, but it slowly falls, his smile dropping until he looks… sad.

“You don’t have to,” Lucas whispers, knowing.

Jens is quiet, sliding his hands up to Lucas’s waist, slipping under his hoodie and t-shirt, pressing against his skin. His hands are warm.

“It feels silly,” he says quietly. “Being scared to come out to them.”

“It’s not.”

“I know, I just…” Jens sighs, looking down. “I mean, Robbe’s gay, and Aaron and Moyo love him and Sander, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.”

“It’s okay,” Lucas says, placing a hand on Jens’s jaw, pressing his thumb under Jens’s chin so he looks at him. “You don’t have to until you’re ready.”

Jens sighs again, lightly, scanning Lucas’s face, so Lucas leans in and kisses him.

“It’s not silly to be scared,” Lucas says before Jens can say anything. “It’s normal. Especially in a world like this.”

“I don’t wanna be scared,” Jens says, quietly, almost under his breath.

Lucas just touches his face, brushing his fingertips over his cheekbones and brows like he’s drawing him.

“But I don’t wanna be brave either,” Jens adds. “It’s stupid. That I have to be brave just existing.”

“It is,” Lucas agrees, He cocks his head at him, looking at the softness in his dark eyes. “You don’t have to be brave right now.”

“Okay,” Jens whispers.

Lucas pulls him in, wrapping his arms around his tightly, and Jens reciprocates, his arms around Lucas’s waist, his fingers against Lucas’s bare skin. Jens buries his face in Lucas’s neck as Lucas’s fingers end up in Jens’s hair, combing out the tangles gently, scratching his scalp. They both sigh, rocking back and forth slightly, so slightly neither of them really notices.

“My dancer,” Lucas breathes as Jens kisses his neck gently, and Jens’s arms tighten around him.

#im sorry ab the very sudden mood changes in this #and that the ending is #basically last chapter but in a different context #anyway #natalies fics made me rediscover my love for kes and jayden so now you get soft lukesden content #😌#anyway i hope youre well #pls message me if youre not #i have love to spare #vds #van der stoffels #jens x lucas #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #wtfock #skam germany #say my name and say it twice #cotton candy skies #cotton candy skies always look better in person

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lillithenettix · 4 years

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Part 4

Part 5/?

With Dallas running off after the other two, Boris didn’t even bother trying to turn around this time. He just continued sitting, passively waiting to see if anyone else is planning on pouncing him or not. At least this time he is prepared. Somewhat.

Read the rest of the fic under the cut!

To be honest, Habit hadn’t talked to Dallas all that much back at the Habitat. But when they did talk, the topic was rarely about something other than art. While Habit was definitely doing art as a hobby, the other man took it more seriously. He knew which colors went together best, how to draw figures from different perspectives, how lighting works, all that mumbo jumbo Habit never really cared to learn.

Habit was always left a bit impressed, thought, at the end of the day he still preferred his comically cartoonish drawings. It was simple, cute, and a great way to express himself when nothing else did the trick.

Thinking back on it, maybe he shouldn’t have expressed himself that much around the habitat with the drawings. The first time he went back to visit the Habitat, some days after the Big Event, to finally shut it down, he realized how creepy some of his doodles were. The blood, the creepy staring, the crying. Frankly, he scared himself with them.

He felt a pressure in his chest, being thankful to Flower Kid for saving him, once again.

While he was still looking off to the side from which Dallas came from, he heard footsteps from his front.

So there are more of his potential future friends still coming! He has to admit, it made him quite happy and hopeful.

In the short second it took him to look at the new person approaching him, his mind went through all the next potential people that could arrive. Thought, honestly, he really doesn’t know which ones have more chances of appearing so he just focused on the then and there. His smile grew in excitement.

As soon as he laid his eyes on the newcomer it dropped. Not in disappointment, anger, or any other emotion than surprise. His mouth was agape, he tried to say something but nothing came out.

He really though he was ready but to see Questionette here left him in awe. He didn’t even think she would’ve understood his letter. She wasn’t even speaking English in the chatroom from what he remembered.

Maybe she took an English crash course in the short time between the group chat and now? It’s the only thing he could think of at the moment. Sure, it might’ve taken him a few years to become fluent in English when his family migrated to the United States, but he will push the slight pang of jealousy down for now, and rather be impressed if that was really the case here.

Or maybe she just got someone to translate it. Who knows.

“Bonjour, flouriste!” She greeted, a small gentle smile on her face, and put something down on the table.

Habit briefly glanced downwards and saw a Hydrangea. It looked freshly picked, the petals dainty and healthy, and a pretty blue colour.

Thank you for understanding.

Huh? Had he remembered the meaning right? He was quite sure he did. But he couldn’t come up with a reason she’d be thankful to him for.

Come on, Boris, think!

He looked back up at her, straight into her eyes, as if that will bring back any forgotten memories. He wanted to remember but he couldn’t.

If she saw his confusion, she didn’t acknowledge. She just leaned both of her elbows onto the table, intertwined her fingers, and laid her head on them, much like Boris had done when patronizing or mocking his Habiticians in the past.

But Questionette still held a gentle smile, no hint of mockery. She just kept looking, not moving a muscle, waiting.

What was she waiting for, thought? An apology?

Well, duh, Boris, you dunce! That’s why you invited them all here!

“…Sorry.”

He wanted to slap myself across his face. Could he have possibly sounded any more unsure and insincere? So hesitant to say it, in only one word, and practically monotone. He wanted to try again.

Before he could fix his mistake, start anew, she looked away. Her smile still present, waiting.

This baffled Boris.

She didn’t seem disappointed or mad at his half-hearted apology. Was she waiting for something else?

Questionette looked back at him, staring at his face as the gears inside his head turned and turned, trying to figure out the puzzle she posed for him.

So much for the whole ‘understanding’ affair. He must seem like a total idiot to her. So far, their interaction has been a disaster from start to finish on his part. His look of shock, his mouth hanging open, not even greeting her back-

Not even greeting her back.

Boris! Where are your manners?

He had to stop himself from blurting out just any old ‘hello’ or ‘hi’ in a rushed panic. He wanted it to seem special. Well, as special as a greeting can get.

Then he remembered one.

“Privjet, prijatelnica!” He blurted out, no hesitance, with the confidence of a car salesman.

It didn’t take him long to start second-guessing himself since the greeting was the very same as the one he initiated conversations with back at the habitat. More specifically, conversations with her.

Questionette gave him no time for regret as her smile grew into one of pure happiness.

She puckered her lips, as much as she could with her wide smile, and sent a kiss flying in his direction.

------------

When Questionette arrived to the United States, let’s just say things didn’t go very well for her.

She didn’t really know what she was thinking. Maybe it was her naivete, or maybe her youthful enthusiasm. Disregarding her family’s worries, and her friends’ warnings about the outside world. Only knowing how to speak French, and with a big ambition to make a name for herself in the theatre world, she almost instinctively decided to move to America.

America, the land of the free. America, land of opportunity. And America, the land of English speakers.

Oh, Questionette, what have you gotten yourself into.

So with whatever little money she brough from home, she started traveling, looking for jobs at local theatres. But, unfortunately, it is hard to find a job when you don’t understand your employer and your employer doesn’t understand you.

And all the paperwork. God, the paperwork. It took her so long to fill out anything the government needed from her with help from some equally confused government workers who didn’t understand her.

When searching or traveling she made a quick buck acting as a mime, though she had to admit, that wasn’t her forte. But Americans did love laughing at a random Frenchie trying to not make a fool our of herself on the street, so she had to swallow her pride at times.

Eventually, she became just too tired of everything. Everything was so hard without communication. She didn’t even have enough money to return back to France. To her family. Prove them all right, and admit she just wasn’t up to the task.

Then she started seeing strange flyers everywhere. They didn’t contain a whole bunch of words on them. It was mostly pictures and drawings. There were many variations of the flyers, or at least she assumed as much by looking at the style of the drawings. And they made sense to her.

Something made sense to her. Finally.

It’s been so long since she understood anything in this damn country.

She wanted to go to this place. To this place where you can find your smile again. For free! She had been so happy she could’ve cried.

So she started walking, and she didn’t stop until she arrived on top of that hill with the strange but unique building on it. She grabbed the giant door which she assumed was the entrance and pushed.

It didn’t move. She pushed again. And again.

If pushing wouldn’t solve it, then maybe knocking would. So, she had done just that. Hitting the door a little louder with each knock. She had to admit, she was starting to despair a little.

Eventually her hands started hurting from all the knocking which got progressively more aggressive.

Now, Questionette is by no means a violent person, but damn was she desperate right now. She just wants a little time off, rest for a bit, gather up her strength.

She plopped down on the ground and waited. Someone had to come around eventually. She was confident she understood the flyer correctly. Heck, the last one she found was just some scribbles getting the point across, not a word in sight!

She must’ve been sitting in front of the place for hours. The sun was slowly setting, and it looked beautiful and peaceful. She started nodding off, eyes closing and her mind just wanting to catch some rest when a very, very, tall man appeared in front of her. So many various screws, bolts, and thingamajigs in hand that the pile seemed to be blocking his view.

Wanting to make herself more presentable by dusting off her skirt and straightening her shirt she shot up, only to startle the poor giant, seemingly only noticing her once she was standing at her full height.

All the doodads he was holding fell to the ground, scattering all around them.

“Fu-“ he started but took a deep breath, held it in, and exhaled before continuing, “blin.”

Feeling sorry for making the man drop everything, she quickly rushed to pick everything up. She hoped nothing was broken. Glancing up at the man, she saw him looking at her. Not sure whether he was going to get angry at her or not, she apologized.

“Désolée, c’est ma faute, je ferai attention la prochaine fois.” And she meant it.

It was probably just gibberish to him, but still, better than not saying anything.

But his reaction was unexpected. He smiled with excitement.

“Privjet, prijatelnica,” he started waving at her as if she was an old friend he saw across the street, and not a random stranger that scared a year of his life out of him.

She had to admit, it left her a bit confused. That didn’t sound English. But it sure as hell wasn’t French either. The confusion must have shown on her face.

The man proudly lifted a clenched hand to point at himself with his thumb, still beaming.

“Yevropa!”

Taking a moment to process what he said, she let out a small ‘ah’ when it finally clicked.

Questionette let everything she picked up so far drop back to the ground and imitated his previous movement by pointing at herself.

“L'Europe!”

It might have been a little weird. Two Europeans who didn’t really understand each other yelling ‘Europe’ in their respective languages with the excitement of a six-year-old getting a new toy, but somehow it brought comfort to her.

From that meeting on, things went much smoother. She eventually learned that the place was called the Habitat, and that she arrived a week before the official opening.

Whoops. Well, mistakes tend to happen when you can’t read flyers properly. At least she was the first one to experience the luxury of this free resort.

The tall man, Doctor Habit who she figured out was from Russia, introduced his two employees to her as well. Kamal Bora, the one who worked as the Doctor’s assistant, and Wallus Breadbear, the janitor.

She and Habit didn’t literally understand each other, but she enjoyed his company immensely. It was hard to hate a guy who’d greet her as happily as he did every day, always with the same sentence. It really grew on her. She wanted to look the words up in a dictionary when she got her hands on one.

While the four of them were waiting for more Habiticians to arrive to this happy place, they got to mingle a bit, and it didn’t take Questionette long to start getting close with the two workers as well. Especially the janitor.

Not even a day after they got introduced to eachother, Wallus went and bought the biggest English to French dictionary he could find. She found it sweet that he cared enough to do that. Their conversations were slow and mostly in broken French but with how much time they had on their hands, they managed. Surely enough, feelings started to blossom between them.

But the doctor didn’t like that.

She learned he was a very jealous man. Pulling her away from Wallus at every opportunity, butting in on their conversations, things that went unnoticed by her for some time. At first it was sort of cute how he wanted her attention, but the longer it kept going, the creepier it became.

Then Wallus lost the dictionary they couldn’t find it anywhere. Everyone, excluding the Doctor, helped search for it, Kamal, the newly joined habiticians, as well as herself. Losing the little book was very unpractical for their relationship. So unpractical, in fact, that it began to crumble not long after.

She tried keeping the relationship alive, but it seemed like Wallus didn’t. He became more and more uncomfortable being near her, and she never figured out why. She had some theories, but that’s all they were. Theories.

Eventually, Habit stopped hanging out outside his office.

Then she became lonely again. At least, until the Flower Kid showed up.

Thinking back on it, it wasn’t all bad in the beginning. But when things got good, they got worse again. Which sucked. At least now she’ll have a great story to tell her friends and family back home, whenever she would see them again.

Surprisingly, when she got out of the Habitat, the big woman that hung out on the roof, watching for birds all day, started talking to her. Granted, Questionette didn’t understand a word that came out of the woman’s mouth, but it was still nice.

The woman introduced herself as Borbra Luddington.

In the following months Borbra even helped her learn English. It started with pointing at things and yelling out their name, but eventually she gifted Questionette some used textbooks and workbooks she found online.

When Kamal invited everyone to the chatroom she wanted to surprise everyone with her newly acquired knowledge, but she decided against it. There was a little childish part inside her that wanted to see and get as much praise as possible for learning English. She wanted to surprise them in person. See their faces, their reactions.

And what better opportunity than at the doctor’s… err… florist’s new workplace!

What a surprising change of professions for the man. As for herself, she stuck to theatre. She might not have been the most popular or famous, but she got a few small roles when she auditioned in the recent past. Everyone has to start somewhere.

She had to admit, she did miss Habit. Just a little. She was still hurt by his actions, but when Flower Kid gave her the rundown of everything that happened in the Habitat, he did occupy her mind for a while.

Sorting through her feelings, mulling everything over she figured out that she wanted to forgive him. Maybe because of ‘the good ol’ times’ when he saved her from giving up on the streets, maybe because she felt a tinge of pity for him, or maybe both.

If he really is working towards gaining her forgiveness, she is ready to forgive. Forgive, and finally look up what his greeting meant.

In any case, she had an idea of what to bring him as a sentiment of goodwill.

-------

Yeeeaahhhh, i didn't know how tf to work with a quik-translator so i transformer it into a english-french dictionary in the fic :')

also i apologize to any russians reading this, i try to avoid cyrillic script since the fic is in english

#my art #my writing #smile for me #boris habit #dr habit #sfm #questionette #smile for me game #i got really emotional abotu questionette in this fic ok #she needs more love

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welcometophu · 3 years

Text

Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 14

Marked Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 14

[ Previous | First | Next ]

It’s been almost two weeks since Nikita and Alaric disappeared. As peaceful as it is in her dorm room, it’s still strange knowing that Nikita isn’t just with Heather. It’s stranger still how life just goes on and only a few people seem truly worried about the fact that several people—including a professor—have just disappeared.

Even Pels feels like she should be more worried than she is. There’s a part of her that just expects that everything will be fine eventually. She’ll turn around and Nikita will be there, and Coven will happen again, and Dad will push her across campus to join the meetings.

But there is also a tiny part of her that is scared that it can’t be that simple. That there is something she’s ignoring.

“Go check on Rory,” Dad suggests as she climbs the stairs after dinner. “I haven’t seen him down in the dining hall.”

“I’m sure he’s doing fine,” Pels mutters. “He’s got Kit. Besides. It’s not like I can do anything anyway.”

“You underestimate the healing power of company.” Dad blocks the way when she tries to get to her room, nudging her down the hall. She pushes back, but he’s stronger, and she realizes that once again, she’s going where he wants, despite herself.

She makes her way down the hall to the corner room that Alaric and Rory share, and raps on the door.

“It’s unlocked,” Rory calls out, so she nudges it open.

Rory sits on the floor with his back against his dresser, knees drawn up and his guitar across his lap. His toe just barely touches Kit’s rounded back, where Kit’s hunched over, drawing something on the pad across his knees. Serina sits not far away, staring down at a textbook on the floor and doing nothing.

“I just—” Pels almost steps out as soon as she steps in, but Dad blocks her way. “I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

Rory shifts, and as soon as the pressure of his foot leaves Kit’s back, Kit looks up, blinking. “Oh. Hi.”

Serina lifts a hand to wiggle her fingers, then picks up the textbook to move it to her lap, staring down at it still.

“Not really,” Rory says. “But I’m panicking less.” He slides his hand down Kit’s back before pushing himself to stand. His hair falls forward, almost covering his face as he looks around. “I can offer you space on the floor or our one desk chair to sit on.”

“Floor’s easier if you want to study with us.” Serina’s voice is flatter than usual, almost listless. “But I’m guessing you aren’t into Chemistry.”

“Not my usual thing, no.” Pels is used to feeling awkward, but the tension in this room is so thick it’s troubling to step further in. She takes the chair Rory indicates, sitting on the edge while Rory sinks back to sit closer to Kit than before, one hand across his back. “I just—I got to thinking at dinner and I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“My family came down,” Rory says. The sound of Kit’s pencil is louder now, faster as Rory leans close to him. Pels isn’t sure Kit’s even aware of his surroundings anymore.

“Your family?” Pels asks.

“My extended family, from Vermont. My Dad grew up in a commune of Mages.” Rory lifts his right hand as he speaks. “They went over Pawel’s house with a fine tooth comb, trying to figure out what they were even doing. I know they were looking into issues with the Shadows, trying to decide what to do next to heal the Split.”

That is entirely Greek to Pels, but she nods along anyway like she doesn’t feel like she’s coming into the middle of a conversation and entirely lacking in antecedents.

“They’re positive no one died,” Rory says. There’s a soft sound from Serina at that. “They think someone might have Traveled, and given that they had three people capable of it, that’s plausible.”

“Mac Teleports. Carolyn Travels through her cards. And Matteson’s a Shadow,” Serina mumbles, tracing something in her book. “So they think they went somewhere. But they still aren’t answering their phones, or talking to us, or coming home, so we don’t know where.”

“But they’re safe,” Rory says firmly. “We’re almost positive that wherever they are, they’re safe.”

“Oh.” Pels is pretty sure she’s supposed to say something sympathetic here, but she has no idea what. “I’m… glad they’re safe. It still seems weird that they haven’t—”

“Right?” Serina looks up, and for just a moment she looks almost like her usual self, a bright light in her eyes. “They should be here. Carolyn should just come tumbling out of wherever and Travel them back. It should be easy. I can’t focus. I need Carolyn to be okay.”

“She’s okay,” Kit mumbles. “I’d know if she wasn’t.”

“That’s good news at least.” Pels stands up, hesitating. “If you hear something else, let me know? I don’t miss the epic fights, but I do worry about Nikita. And everyone else.”

Dad nudges her, and she stumbles forward. She shoots a look over her shoulder, not sure what he’s getting at, and Dad nods at Rory like there’s something she should be doing.

“What?” Pels hisses.

Rory looks confused.

Dad wraps his arms around Pels in a quick hug, and she gets it then. “Oh. Um.” She opens her arms in offering.

Kit ignores her, huffing slightly as Rory rises. Serina looks back at her book. But Rory leans down to wrap his arms around her, his head against the top of hers. He’s skinny enough that even small as she is and reaching up as she has to, she can get her arms around him and try to hug him tight. And he holds on just as tightly in return, clinging to her like she’s a very small teddy bear for several breaths before he finally steps back.

“It’s all going to be okay,” he says, like she’s the one needing reassurance, so she nods to give that back to him.

“If I hear anything from Nikita I’ll let you know,” She says. Dad lets her back up until she’s at the door, and she slips out into the hall, closing the door after herself. There’s a soft strum of a guitar from the inside as she goes.

“Any other errands you want me to run?” Pels murmurs. Dad’s already at the other end of the hall, turning the corner. She hurries after him, expecting to find him heading down the stairs, but instead he’s leaning against the open doorway into the common area, watching as Pat packs things into bags and monitors popcorn in the microwave.

Pat glances over as Pels steps next to Dad, and grins. “Hey, you’re just in time.” He grabs one of the bags off the counter, handing it to her before turning back just in time to turn off the microwave. He juggles the hot bag of popcorn between two hands before dropping it into a canvas bag, and then picking that and the last bag up. “Come on. Trish said she’d bring the drinks.”

Pels glances into the bag as she heads down the stairs. Rolls. Marshmallows. Graham crackers. A box of vanilla wafers. “And we’re bringing food?”

Pat turns as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her. “I appreciate the help carrying things, and yes, you will be fed. That is, as long as you’re interested in hot dogs, popcorn, or s’mores.”

“How weirdly will you look at me if I admit I have never eaten a s’more?” Pels asks. She passes by him as he stares at her. “I’m not joking. It’s not like I’ve ever been camping. Or gone to a lot of bonfires. It’s just one of those things steeped in social mystery that I’ve missed out on.”

“We are going to fix that.” Pat raises a bag, calling out to Jackson as he emerges from a different door further down Townhouse Row.

“Condiments,” Jackson says. “Trish is bringing the drinks, right?”

“Sera said Trish is bringing the drinks,” Pat agrees. “I don’t know if that means alcohol or not.” He casts a sideways glance at Pels. “Let me guess—”

“You would be right,” she admits. “Because there is honestly nothing more sad than drinking alone. Besides. We only had wine in the house, and it wasn’t even good wine.”

She trails after them, Jackson seeming to move his long legs in slow motion to allow Pat to keep up, but Pels still struggles. Pat might claim to be short, but he’s at least a half foot taller than Pels, and it makes a difference when they’re on the move.

They veer off in a direction Pels isn’t familiar with. “The theater is over this way, right?” she asks.

“The theater is on this corner of campus, yes,” Pat waves a hand like he’s giving a tour. “We’re passing by the Arts buildings now. The main auditorium is in there, but the smaller club theater, entirely maintained by students, is the low building coming up on the left. Sera did tech for the fall production, but she’s been too busy this spring. Where we’re going are the gardens beyond that.”

“Gardens?”

Pat starts walking backwards. “Didn’t you walk through the gardens on your tour before you applied? Or during Accepted Students’ Day?”

Pels opens her mouth, then closes it again, lips pressed together in a rueful expression. “How many things do I have to say I never did before you really start looking down on me?” she asks quietly. “I just applied based on reputation, and hoped I’d get in. My Mom came here, although she didn’t get her degree here; she left when she was pregnant with me. I knew it was a place where Talent is accepted, so I figured that people might think I’m weird, but I wouldn’t end up having to leave because of it. I just thought I could be…” She searches for the word and comes up empty. When she looks over, Dad doesn’t offer anything to help. “Background noise,” Pels mumbles, because that’s the closest she can get to what she meant to say.

Pat stops dead. “You should never have to be a side character in your own movie,” he says solemnly. “You aren’t background noise, Pels. You should be loud, and—”

“Please don’t say proud and out because it really sounds like that’s where you’re going with this,” Pels tries to cut him off, but it only makes him laugh.

“I know what it’s like to be quiet,” Pat tells her. He runs back to her, putting an arm around her shoulders and drawing her forward as he starts walking again. Jackson moves along beside them, chuckling softly as Pat keeps talking. “I decided that I was never going to be quiet again. I thought that if nobody saw me, everything would work out, and that did not go according to plan.”

“You do have loudest on the floor nailed down,” Pels says dryly.

Pat puts his free hand over his heart. “I’m wounded that you believe that my music is somehow louder than the legendary sound of thunderclaps from your own room.”

“I’m not involved with those,” Pels protests. “You can’t blame me for Nikita and Jennifer. The music is yours, though.”

“Sometimes it’s mine,” Jackson says solemnly.

“Hey, there they are!” Pat’s arm drops away from Pels so he can hurry forward to where Trish, TJ, and Sera are waiting by a wrought iron arch between two head-high pine bushes. “Booze or soda, Trish?”

“Both.” She pats the soft cooler that lies slung across her body by a long strap. “Not a lot though, but my momma raised me right to bring something along to any party.” She looks over as Pels slows down, uncertain about yet another new person. “Pels, right?”

“Pels, right,” Pat confirms. “And Pels, these are the gardens. They don’t have any kind of a fancy name, and according to some people they aren’t nearly as good as the ones at VIT—”

“Look, I’ve been in the gardens at VIT and they live up to their reputation,” TJ talks over him. “They set aside a ten acre plot for these incredible, meticulously fashioned gardens, with hundreds of different kinds of plant life. The trails are fantastic and well-maintained. The brook has three separate places to cross. This is—”

“Like someone let an ancient football field fall to Chaos, and left a fire pit in the middle,” Trish finishes his sentence with a soft laugh. “But we’ve got a fire pit, so who cares?”

“And I’ve reserved it.” TJ brandishes a lighter. “One of the perks of being an RA. So let’s go.”

As soon as Pels ducks under the arch, the tree cover overhead almost blocks out the last rays of the late afternoon sun. The temperature drops in the near darkness, and she has to pull out her phone to use the flashlight to light her way. Even with the dim light that filters through, she trips over a tree root at one point, righting herself as Dad keeps her from faceplanting on the path.

“Thanks,” she murmurs under her breath, thankful that no one seems to have noticed.

The path winds through the trees, eventually opening into a small field that has several benches, along with a large fire pit and a pile of wood nearby. There are a few stones around the edges outside the pit which seem to be there to sit on, and Pat drops his bags next to one and uses it like a table as he starts pulling things out.

“Get building,” he instructs, gesturing at the fire.

TJ looks at him. “You think I know how to build a fire? I’m a city boy, and we do not build fires on the rooftop in New York, thanks.”

“Give me the lighter.” Trish slips it into her pocket, then starts sorting through the wood in the pile. She directs Sera to bring her different pieces, building a stack of wood according to some algorithm Pels does not understand at all.

Pels sits on one of the benches, trying stay out of the way, and also trying to ignore the fact that Dad is sitting next to her, feet on the bench as he perches on the back. He leans down, elbows on his knees. “It’s even a school night, and here you are,” he says. “Your sister would love to hear about this.”

He’s probably right.

Pels waits until the fire is going, flames licking into the air above the pit. Pat spears hotdogs onto metal skewers and hands them out; Jackson puts three on his skewer and holds them in the flames to cook them all at once.

Pat motions for Pels to come closer. “Eat dinner,” he says, offering a skewered dog.

Pels fishes her phone out of her pocket. “Hang on. Can we, uh—” She gestures from the phone to Pat to herself. “For my sister. She’ll never believe me otherwise.”

“Hey, everyone, selfie time!” Pat calls out.

Sera leans over his back, arms on either side of him, her cheek pressed to his. “Oh?”

They all gather around, Pels at the front. When she can’t quite get everyone in frame, Jackson grabs her phone and holds it out and above them to snap several pictures as they make faces at the camera. By the time she’s done, she can easily pick a few to send to Cheyenne. Then she has to add more contacts to her phone and start a brand new group text for the group so she can send the full set of pictures to everyone.

Are you at a cookout? Cheyenne asks.

Illicit underage drinking, hotdogs, and apparently s’mores are on the menu, Pels replies. As Dad informs me, I’m being a real person tonight, acting normal and everything. Not that he’s said all that explicitly, but she’s gotten very good at reading his expressions over the years.

Good for you! Oh. Dad’s calling. I need to go down for dinner.

Cheyenne cuts off with that; even though Pels texts her again, there are no replies.

“I hope everything’s okay with Peter,” she mutters. “I just—I need to get her out of there.” But she can’t. Cheyenne’s just a kid, and Mom’s still the adult, and if that leaves Cheyenne walking on eggshells around Peter, Pels can’t fix that.

Not to mention that Cheyenne is trying to protect Pels and won’t let her do anything.

“Are you going to cook your hotdog?” Sera asks. Her gaze is focused somewhere else, Pels has no idea on what, but it’s not Pels or the fire. Sera’s eyes move, as if she’s tracking something Pels can’t see.

“Oh. Yeah.” Pels shoves her phone back in her pocket and forgets about it for a moment, as TJ helps her find the best spot to heat her hotdog without burning it to a crisp. As soon as she thinks it’s done, Pat is standing next to her with a bun held out, and gesturing to the condiments.

It’s just a hotdog, but it’s weirdly good because of the fire and the company. It’s too hot, a little smoky, and she did burn one side, but it’s still better than anything else she can remember recently. Even those little mini dogs from The Dog Shack.

Pat opens the marshmallows while Pels is still trying to finish her hotdog. He lays out different options on one stone—plain and flavored marshmallows, different kinds of chocolate and peanut butter cups, and two different kinds of graham crackers or vanilla wafers. “We believe in variety,” he says solemnly. “There is no one true way to make a s’more.”

“But if it’s your first, you should go with traditional,” Jackson says, holding a hand up to keep Pat back as he grabs a marshmallow and skewers it. “C’mon, Pels, let’s do this. Then you can try options.”

“All the options,” Pat encourages.

Trish starts laughing. “She’ll be high on sugar.”

“Which does not taste good with beer.” Sera has a can open in her hand, and she makes a face as she alternates bites of crisped marshmallows with swallows from the can. “This is really gross. Who thought of this? Pat, you’re an idiot.”

“I am brilliant, because this is a perfect way to spend a Thursday night,” Pat declares. He might be on his third or fourth s’more; Pels has lost count. She also hasn’t seen him with a beer yet.

Jackson makes Pels feel even smaller than usual, and she readily gives up her skewer to him rather than leaning over the fire to toast the marshmallow herself. She gathers up chocolate and graham crackers as directed, holding them when he places the marshmallow on top, then covering it.

“You seriously haven’t had one before,” he asks.

Pels is well aware of what they are. She’s seen them on shows, she’s seen cereals based on the taste. She once toasted a marshmallow over the flame of a gas stove, until Peter found her trying to clean up the sticky, dripping burnt sugar mess. They’d moved a week later, losing a security deposit because Dad had blown out every light in the kitchen along with one window.

“I seriously have not had one before,” she says solemnly.

She bites into it and immediately regrets it because the molten hot sugar hasn’t cooled enough to eat. She makes a low noise and blows on it hard, but then takes another bite right away because it’s just so good. She realizes she grabbed dark chocolate, but that’s wonderful against the sweetness of the marshmallow. There’s a crisp earthiness to the outer roasted shell of the marshmallow, and the chocolate melts against it, spreading over the graham cracker. Everything crumbles, and she ends up with sticky fingers and a too-full mouth, needing to chew and swallow fast as a low laugh bubbles up. “That’s good,” she says around the remaining mouthful.

Pat shoves a wrapped peanut butter cup in her hand. “Now make another one with this,” he orders, and Pels hastens to do exactly that.

After four s’mores, she’s absolutely positive that she’s had too many. She’s full of energy, her skin itching with the need to get up and do something. Or maybe that’s being surrounded by people, all of whom are talking and shouting over each other, and seemingly unbothered by the way she just observes. They include her without forcing her to speak, and it’s strangely welcome to be able to just be here on the sidelines.

“Yeah, a little. I want to have some new material before I hit the road at the end of May,” Trish says. She’s sitting with her back against one of the large stones, between Sera’s legs. Sera combs her fingers through Trish’s hair, idly braiding it, then combing it free again while looking at something else in the distance.

Pels isn’t sure what the start of that conversation is, then Trish starts singing.

“Whatever I do, wherever I go, I’ll travel the world, to come home to you,” Trish sings. “It’s nowhere near done yet. I’m trying for that feel of being on the road, but knowing you’ve got an anchor to come back to.” She leans her head back, looking up at Sera. “It’s nice knowing there’s always someone there for you.” Her voice is a little slower than Pels remembers, the southern accent a bit thicker.

“We should’ve had you bring the guitar,” Pat says. “You and Jackson on guitar, some of you with good voices, the rest of us just yelling out music because it’s fun.”

“No guitar doesn’t mean no campfire songs.” Jackson’s on the ground as well, leaning back, one shoulder pressed against Pat’s. He gestures, and TJ ends up on the ground next to him, as Jackson loops one arm over his shoulder. Jackson whispers something to TJ, and they both start belting out a song that Pels recognizes as one of Rory’s.

Pat joins in, along with Trish, and Sera jerks to a halt, blinking as she looks down at Trish. Her brow furrows, fingers caught in her hair.

Trish reaches up, touching Sera’s cheek as she grins and keeps singing.

Sera looks over at Pels, brow still furrowed. “We should record this.”

Pels can barely hear her over Pat’s off-key rendition of the song. TJ and Trish are nice to listen to, and Jackson isn’t half bad, but Pat can’t carry a tune to save his life.

Sera continues to look between Trish and TJ, her brow furrowed. Pels wonders if she is recording it, capturing it to whatever hard drive lurks inside her brain.

Maybe an external recording would be nice, too.

Pels gets her phone out and kneels on the ground so she can get them all in frame. They move from one song into the next almost as if it’s planned, and Pels manages to capture that one in full. She stops the recording as Jackson falls back, dragging TJ and Pat with him.

“Thirsty now,” Jackson complains, holding one hand up. Trish puts a can in it, and laughs when Jackson realizes that he can’t lie down and drink at the same time.

“Can I share that video with Rory?” Pels asks.

“It is adorable that you ask permission,” Pat says. “I vote yes.”

“I definitely say yes,” Dad murmurs. “Look at you, sending something to amuse a friend in need.”

Pels waves her hand in Dad’s direction, as if flicking away a mosquito. She sends a quick message to Rory with the video, then decides to send another to Cheyenne saying, Yes, I’m having fun tonight. She’s a little surprised to realize that she hasn’t had a text since Cheyenne said she was going down for dinner, so she adds, You okay? and sends that as well.

She gets back a picture of Cheyenne’s face, barely lit by her desk lamp in a dim room. I’m fine. Just buried in homework. I get to see Dr. Smalls tomorrow. Don’t worry.

It’s an interesting combination of things to say, and really isn’t likely to make Pels worry less.

If anything happened, you’d tell me, right?

She feels awkward sending even that much, like maybe Peter will see Cheyenne’s phone. She doesn’t want to say the word Talent, or Telekinesis at all. She definitely doesn’t want to refer to Peter himself.

I’m okay, seriously. Don’t worry. I’ll call you tomorrow. Promise.

Pels supposes she has to accept that, even if it’s hard to just let it go.

TJ points up from where he still lies back on the ground, his feet warmed by the fire. Jackson’s sitting up between him and Pat, drinking his beer. Sera’s returned to whatever she was focused on before, but her feet are drawn up cross-legged on the stone, and Trish is stoking the fire.

“If you look up, the sky is clear enough to see the stars,” TJ says. “And planets. That’s Jupiter, right there. It’s crystal clear tonight. Saturn will be, too, but it hasn’t risen yet.”

Trish lowers herself to the ground next to TJ and lies back, raising her own hand and letting TJ adjust it. “Oh. There. I see it now. Hey, aren’t you an Arts major?”

“My mom loved Astronomy. Which, maybe it’s a funny hobby for a dancer, but she used to say how we’re all made of stardust, and that’s how some of us become stars,” TJ says softly. “I think she liked the wordplay, since she was a star on stage. We used to talk about how dance was meant to show our starlight, and I still think of that every time I dance.”

“It’s a pretty image,” Jackson agrees. He sets aside his empty beer and lies back, while Pat pushes himself up one elbow.

“Come on,” Pat says, and Pels isn’t sure if he’s talking to her or Sera. “Come look at the stars.”

Sera meets Pels’s gaze, and for a moment she has a feeling that they might be on the same wavelength. Then Sera heaves a long sigh, tucking dark hair behind an ear studded with piercings. “Fine,” Sera says. As she approaches the group, TJ rolls closer to Jackson, and Sera drops into the space offered, between TJ and Trish.

It looks uncomfortable, being so close.

Pels carefully picks her way around to the other side of Pat and lowers herself to the ground. Her feet are almost too warm, as close to the fire as they are. She wiggles her toes, seeing the fire burning merrily just beyond them, then when Pat nudges her, she looks up to see the stars spread overhead in the clear sky.

“It’s beautiful,” she admits.

“Peaceful,” Pat says. “It’s easy to lie here and just forget about everything else, right?”

Maybe for him. As soon as he says that, thoughts flood in and Pels can’t pick which one to follow first. Nikita’s still missing. She’s intensely confused about watching people interact. Why is Sera petting Trish? Why is TJ snuggling Jackson one second and Sera the next? He’s now on his side with his back to Jackson, holding Sera’s hand as he guides her to see different constellations.

Is this how this is supposed to work?

“I can hear you thinking and you haven’t even had anything to drink,” Dad murmurs, and Pels does her damnedest not to jump at the way he’s crouching next to her, leaning in far too close. “I think they’re all a bit drunk.”

They might be. Pels won’t judge, and honestly, she wasn’t paying that close of attention to who drank how much.

“Just relax for a little while,” Dad says, patting her head.

Pels closes her eyes, exhaling as she tries to let her body relax into the ground. She does it again for good measure, and this time it seems to work, and the voices become background noise as she floats in a sea of darkness and a strange mix of warmth at her toes and the top of her head chilled in the night air.

“I don’t have to understand everything, right?” she whispers. Dad doesn’t respond, but there’s movement next to her, like Pat might have heard her.

“I don’t think it’s possible to understand everything,” Pat murmurs softly. “I think all we can do is try to understand the things that affect us most, and move forward from there.”

It seems like valid advice. Maybe Pels doesn’t need to understand how other people relate to each other. Someday, though, she’s going to have to figure out how other people relate to her.

Someday.

Tonight can be about the s’mores and the stars.

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

INDRUCK 6 PLS (sfw is prob more appropriate for this prompt but idc)

#6: their mentor just died (of natural causes don’t look at me like that). If I went to the funeral out of costume would they recognize me?

Indrid sees the obituary as he’s reading through the tiny, local paper, eggnog latte in one hand a plate of poptarts before him (his metabolism has been odd ever since he got his super powers).

Leo Tarkesian (1954-2020), passed away in his sleep. Mr. Tarkesian was a beloved figure of the Midtown Kepler community. He was dedicated to keeping the charm and friendliness of the town alive.

“And dedicated to being a pain in my ass.” Indrid grumbles.

A small funeral service will be held at Green Hills Cemetery, followed by a celebration of his life at the house of his long-time friend, Duck Newton.

The date and time follows, but Indrid keeps looking back at that name: Duck Newton. Or, as he’s known to Indrid, the Green Knight, superhero and thorn in his side.

Indrid moved to Kepler because it was a small enough city that he assumed there would be no heroes to get in the way of his villainy. Or, what everyone insists is his villainy: the disasters linked to his name were never his fault.

The thievery, art heists, and blackmailing of a few (corrupt) local politicians he takes full credit for.

Leo, AKA Lionheart, was mostly retired until Indrid appeared, at which point he took on a protege in the form of Duck Newton. Along with their friend Minerva (AKA Blue Thunder) they defended Kepler as “The Chosen Squad.”

In truth, Indrid does not bear Duck as much ill will as he should. And most of it is currently coming from the black eye he’s nursing, the result of his last fight with the hero. The man is noble, even as heroes go, never more aggressive than he needs to be, and (annoyingly) rather charming at times.

Then there’s the fact that Indrids powers of future sight have shown him glimpses of Duck’s daily life (those same powers are why he knows his foes’ secret identities, but they have no idea about his). A mild mannered park ranger, a good friend, a bachelor who talks to his cat in extremely funny voices.

He flips through timelines until he lands on what Duck Newton will likely be doing today. In each one, the hero looks worn, and when he wipes his eyes or his voice goes rough, Indrid turns his minds-eye away. Even obnoxious do-gooders deserve privacy.

Would it be strange for him to visit the funeral and offer his condolences? He’s fairly certain his secret identity would stay that way.

No, it would be ridiculous. Leo was well-liked, and no doubt Duck will have plenty of support. There’s no need for Indrid to put his identity at risk just to say “I’m sorry.”

—————————-

Indrid stands at the back of the clump of black-clad bodies. He found a black suit jacket buried in his closet, but no slacks, so he had to opt for the nicest black jeans he could locate. To be extra safe, he’s removed his trademark red glasses. He dislikes how exposed he feels without them.

The ceremony is indeed brief, Duck giving a short eulogy as the casket lowers into the ground.

Indrid waits, letting others speak with Duck in hushed, sad tones. Looks around the cemetery as he does; it’s peaceful, full of flower beds and stone benches, not overly manicured. It might be a nice place to come draw one of these days.

When next he glances back at the headstone, Duck is nowhere to be seen. He must have left for his house already.

Indrid tries not to be too disappointed, turns back towards his car. He’s nearly there when something black catches his eye through a clump of tangled rosebushes.

Duck Newton, alone on a bench, with the bearing of a man trying and failing to get himself together.

Indrid steps through the archway into the little grassy circle, at the center of which sits a fountain, barely bubbling.

“Tissue?” He produces a small packet of them from his pocket. A villain must be prepared for everything, after all.

“Oh, uh, thanks, uh.” Duck looks at him just long enough for Indrid to start worrying. Then he reaches for a tissue and wipes his eyes.

“You, uh, a friend of Leo’s?”

“Not really. But I went to his store regularly, and he was always very kind. It seemed only right to pay my respects.”

(It’s not a lie. Indrid’s loft is on the same block as Tarkesian’s General Store. So what if they were enemies, sometimes you run out of milk).

“That’s, uh, that’s real kind.” Duck keeps his eyes on the ground, and Indrid sits down beside him.

“You are the one hosting the celebration of life, right?”

“Yeah. Guess I oughta head over there, since it’s technically my house. But Minerva already went ahead with the first group of guests, and I trust her and…and well, I needed a moment of not havin to run things.”

“Quite understandable. I will leave you in peace. And I am sorry.”

“You don’t, uh, fuck, I wasn’t tryin to be rude, fuck-”

“It’s alright” Indrid holds up his hand to stop Duck continuing, “You are allowed to grieve as you need to.”

Duck looks at him again, this time more deliberately taking in his features, “Do we know each other? You seem real familiar.”

“I imagine we’ve passed each other on occasion. Kepler is small as cities go. Although I don’t get out often. I embody the reclusive artist stereotype too well at times.”

“You paint?”

“I draw, mostly.” He’s about to stand when Duck leans forward.

“Shit, someone got you good.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Your eye.” Duck taps underneath his own right eye, indicating the bruise.

Cursing himself for his oversight (his glasses normally cover the mark), he blurts out the first explanation that comes to mind, “It was the Mothman, the supervillain, I ran into him in a, uh, dark alley, and there was a fight.”

Duck frowns, “Thought he knew better than to go after random bystanders. Uh, fuck, that is, he honestly don’t strike me as the mean type. Just self-centered and hurt. Uh, that, fuck, that is ah, from what, fuck I’ve read?”

Indrid ignores the terrible lie, clears his throat, “Well, that’s certainly a kinder view than most people take of him.”

Duck shrugs, “Leo always said hero and villain shit was never as cut and dry as people wanna believe. He had the right idea. I think the Mothman might come around some day.”

“Perhaps.” Indrid murmurs, wondering if is inappropriate to ask ones nemesis if they could draw them; Duck’s face is even more striking without his mask.

“I ought to be going. My condolences again.”

“Thank you.” Duck stands with him, walks out the archway by his side before they each turn towards separate parts of the parking lot, “Uh, maybe I’ll see you around some time?”

Indrid can’t stop his grin, “Most definitely.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #prompt fills #superhero au

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