#i mean my friend who also went to the counselor says the teachers who should hate her also strangely love her

[madnessformunson]

Double Daddy Part 1

Note: I watched a movie on Lifetime last night before I fell asleep and had this as a dream so I decided to put it in writing, I hope someone enjoys it. I’m so sorry I had to make Chrissy so mean, I couldn’t think of another name :(

also this is my first time really writing a fanfic so I’m sorry if it’s horrible

Warnings: vomiting, mentions pregnancy (idk if there is anything else)

Part 2

You and Eddie have been best friends since the 2nd grade when Steve thought it was funny to try to put chewed gum in your hair and Eddie punched him in the eye. That was Eddie’s first fight and first time getting in trouble at school. Of course when the teacher asked you what happened, you tried to defend Eddie and say that Steve just tripped and hit a desk. Ever since that moment, both of you knew you had each other’s back.

Now you are both in your senior years of high school. You’ve been friends with benefits since sophomore year when both of you felt ready to lose your v card, but didn’t have anyone you trusted. That's when you guys decided meaningless hookups would be ok, you could learn the ropes before you went off to college and Eddie well he just had a good time. It was always meant to be meaningless but it truly never was for either of you but also neither of you had the courage to say you wanted anything more, both of you settled for best friends with benefits.

Before your senior year started you got a job as a camp counselor at Camp Nightwing. It was just for a week and it was good money, plus it got your dad off your back about going to help him out at the police station or spend “girl time” with Joyce. When you called Eddie that night and there was no answer you didn’t think much of it. But little did you know Eddie was at a party, extremely drunk. This new girl kept talking to him and following him around, he didn’t think much of it. He went to an open bedroom to drink some water and try to sober up but she slipped in the doorway.

“Hey what are you doing here all alone? Edward, right? The new girl said as she walked towards the bed he was sitting on

“Uh yeah just Eddie actually, I just needed some space” he slurred.

“Ah that’s nice, I’m Chrissy”

“Nice to meet you Chrissy”

“I’m new around here and haven’t met anyone besides you” she pouted as she talked.

“Well I would be happy to show you around the school or the town or anything like that, whenever you want” he smiled.

“Oh my goodness you are the sweetest ever!” She squealed and jumped into him for a hug, pushed him back a bit on the bed. And then she kissed him and he didn’t stop. She started ripping her clothes off and Eddie thought for a moment he should stop her but he continued. This was the first time he ever slept with anyone that wasn’t you.

4 weeks later

School started again. Eddie picked you up every day and took you to and from school. You hopped out of the van and hurried off to your locker with Eddie (of course right next to each other).

“So how are you feeling about Click’s class? Hopefully it’s not too bad. But Steve did say she’s a menace.” You said as you got your books out for you first class of the day.

“What does Steve know, I don’t think he actually ever showed up to his classes” Eddie replied and you both laughed.

“Hey Eddie!!” You heard someone call out, you turn over your shoulder to see who it was but you didn’t recognize her from anywhere.

She came over and gave Eddie a big hug slightly knocking him back into his locker.

“Oh hey” Eddie replied, he looked at but uncomfortable with the situation.

“I tried calling you last night but you didn’t answer” she stated as she made a pouting face at him.

“Yeah sorry I was talking to y/n about our next hellfire campaign, but I promise I’ll call you tonight” he said with a rather fake smile.

“You better! Come on let’s go” she said as she grabbed Eddie arm and pulled him off to class. He turned around and mouthed I’m sorry to which you smiled and rolled your eyes. You were definitely a little jealous but it helped that he didn’t seem that into her, he just didn’t know how to let her down easily. The rest of the morning classes went by slowly and then when the lunch bell rang you found Robin and the two of you walked into the cafeteria. You were filling her in on the new strange girl who was kind of obsessing over Eddie. As your eyes fell onto the usual hellfire table where Eddie was sitting and in your usual spot the spunky blonde was sitting, hanging onto Eddie’s arm. You felt hot all of the sudden. It was one thing for her to flirt with Eddie but it was another for Eddie to willingly let her steal your spot. You walked towards the table and he made no moves to ask her to switch seats, leaving you squished between Dustin and Mike. You just moved the food around your plate suddenly not feeling hungry anymore as Chrissy laughed at everything Eddie said. Half way through the lunch period you couldn’t take it anymore and yanked your tray up, dumping it in the trash as you walked away, Eddie calling out your name but you didn't turn.

After the last period of the day, you stand out in front of the school waiting for Eddie to show up and take you home. When he did he still had the blonde girl attached to his arm.

“Hey y/n/n, ready to go?” Eddie said with a small smile.

You nodded in return. As you walked towards the van you noticed Chrissy not letting go and going her own separate way.

“Are you taking her home too?” You stated. You were starting to get really annoyed by her constant presence.

“Ugh yeah I’m gonna take her to her place and I drop you off”

You just roll your eyes and get in, noticing she had already hopped into the front seat leaving you in the back.

The next morning he didn’t show up to take you to school so you called Steve and Robin in a panic hoping they could grab you on the way by.

They pulled up in front of your house and you flew into the back seat.

“Munson couldn’t give you a ride today?” Steve questioned while he started to make the drive to the school.

“Apparently he forgot me..” you almost whispered.

Steve dropped you and Robin off at the front of the school then took off, saying he would be there when school got out if you needed a ride back home. You walked towards your locker with Robin and that’s when you see the van pull up with Chrissy in the front seat. You instantly felt your whole body get hot and you felt nauseous at the slight of them. Oh no you actually were going to throw up. You booked it to the girls room, Robin following right behind you. She held your hair back as you emptied your breakfast into the toilet. After you were finished, you flushed the toilet reaching for your backpack to find some mouthwash. Robin just stared at you.

“Sorry Robs, I know this is the last thing you want to see early in the morning” trying to force out a chuckle.

“No no it’s fine it’s just ..” Robin cut herself off.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That was just kind of random, you know. And I hope you don’t take offense to this but are you … are you pregnant?”

Your face went pale. You didn’t say anything as you dug around in your bag to find your planner. Sure enough you were at least 2 weeks late. You didn’t say anything, just stared at the planner in your hands.

“Holy shit” Robin said as she covered her mouth.

“This is my free period, why don’t I run to the corner store and grab a test, yeah? Then you can know what’s going on for sure before you start losing it” Robin was already on her feet and moving towards the door. You continued to just sit there.

She was fast, maybe 10 minutes total and she was back with a package of tests. You sat starting at the test box now not wanting to find out if this nightmare was true.

“Come on y/n/n, I’m right here with you” Robin said with a smile. You took both tests that came in the pack and set them down on the toilet paper holder. You and Robin just sat quietly. She finally broke the silence, “I think it is done, are you ready to look” you shook your head. “I can look for you if you want” you let out a sigh and nodded. Positive. Both of them were positive. You let out a little cry into Robin's chest and she rubbed your back.

“You want to go home? I can call Steve to come back” she said.

“No it’s ok my dad is off today so he will be all up in my business if I show up before school is over. Plus I think I just need to talk to Eddie.” You said letting out a sigh. She nodded and helped you gather your things, walking out the bathroom door to hopefully finish the day without breaking down.

Little did either of them know Chrissy was sitting with her feet up on the toilet seat listening to the whole conversation.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #chrissy stranger things #stranger things #stranger thing fanfic #eddie munson x hopper!reader #hopper!daughter #eddie munson angst #Eddie #eddie munson fluff #fanfic

[importantchildgardener]

Chapter 2 - Of the early signs

And so I was a happy kid, or so I thought, honestly at that age you can't even tell you are depressed. But the signs can tell you something is wrong with your kid. I was a very social kid, I remember making friends and playing with the other kids at school and also apparently I used to play with other toddlers when I was really small, but there was something else I did, I used to steal coins from my mother's purse to buy candy.

Now, it's just some coins one might say, but I never really asked for coins, ever. I really just went-on and stole them, to buy candy, I was barely 8 years old back then. Eventually I was stealing bills, just one bill of the smallest unit, but even then that should have been a bit worrying. Since my mother was barely home, no one really noticed I guess.

I remember in school, I used to play a ton with my imagination, quite the escapist I was. Whilst the teacher said things I would pretend I was petting an imaginary tiger I had under my desk. I Really liked felines, after all I had started collecting cats, I think by then I had 2 cats and my dog, Chiquita. Chiquita was a border collie, whenever I was sad she would try to defend me so no one could touch me, funny enough whenever I was sad i would curl on her and cry on her and complain to her that no one loved me. She was tied on the garden most of the time, poor chiquita never had a real chance to live the life of a happy dog, I don't think my grandpa was very good at raising animals, not in a respectful way.

One of my major traumas from school time was this one time I was dancing on the floor at Physical Education, we were supposed to make a line to do some silly acrobatic thing like doing a flip on some mattress-y floor, but that was boring for me so I started 'breakdancing' on the floor imagining myself as a robot cat humanoid dancing away without a care. I got back in line, and I was behind some girl, I didn't even care I was now behind a girl, I remember she was taller than me, I found her weird cause she was taller.

I Remember she suddenly looked back and told the teacher I had touched her butt, I don't really know why, I wasn't even thinking about her butt back then, I didn't even understand why would I do that or why it was a problem, but I got scared, because of the violent reaction from everyone around. I can't remember much after that, I can only remember being in the principal's office, with the principal, my mother, my adoptive father and some counselor, they were all asking why I touched her butt, I was crying the whole time. I kept saying I didn't but no one believed me, don't remember what happened afterwards but I don't think I ever complied to their narrative.

I remember maybe years later I had a blade, a box cutter blade, and i started slashing my clothes with it, kinda surprised about how hard it was, this was also back in school. So, I remember my mother got very mad when I was home, I mean, she just asked me who had slashed my clothes and I kept telling her I didn't know. Next day we went to school together and I blamed some guy that was a bully in the class, they took him away, maybe to a reformatory or something, I never saw him again, I never thought much about it. I wonder if I accidentally ruined that poor guys life. I wonder if he even remembers, I was just too scared my mom would get mad at me, I was scared of whatever that could happen.

At some point in a birthday I won a bicycle, I Remember loving it, it was a red BMX and it had the words TNT written on it, I would ride it everywhere, quite dangerously though as I would race on the streets with the old bike, nothing ever happened because the small town had a ton of streets that weren't usually busy. I was only almost hit by a car like twice back then, one time I also almost broke my hand and one time I fell really hard and it was bad but i didnt broke anything.

I recall now of a time where I invented a game called 'car, life' it was a simple game, we went to the busiest street we could find in the small town and waited for cars to pass. Whenever a car was coming, we would wait for it to come very close and then just dash through the street. Man, even then I was suicidal. I think I played that game two or three days with a friend before our parents found out and we couldn't play that anymore. Ah, at the time that was my best friend, you know, I never had a fight with him nor nothing, but one day I just stopped going to his house, I just stopped hanging with him, he called my house and asked why I suddenly left, I didn't say anything. This was after a few years of friendship too, maybe one or two years. I guess I just grew detached. That habit of leaving someone I love is something I, to this day do. Nowadays I try not to.

Ah, I just recalled, when I was really young and exploring my body, i used to stick a finger up my butt and feel around, doing that sort of thing became a guilty pleasure of mine when very young, at the time I didn't even know what masturbation was. I mean, no one taught me either, I really had no talk about sex with my mother. At some point I remember eating a peck of poop from the toilet. It tasted terrible but I shallowed it, I Don't even know why. I don't think that was a sign of me growing up alright either.

#negligence #child abuse #trauma #autobiography #NNAutobiography #disgusting #cw:grimmdark

[hangovercurse]

Favorites

You work at the preschool next to Casie’s middle school. One day, you catch Colson’s eyes while working, and lucky for him you happen to know his daughter.

Request: “Hi!! Let me start out by saying that you are so so so talented!! I was wondering if you’d write something about colson falling for a preschool teacher? like he just sees her one day while he’s picking up casey from the middle school and he’s all soft seeing her interact with the kids and he makes up excuses to keep coming to see you!?”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: Cursing (maybe?)

A/N: I did that thing where I write too much… again.

Word Count: 2394

Colson tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, drumming softly to the beat of the music coming from his radio. He pulled into the school parking lot, the line already a million cars long it seemed. But he promised Casie he would pick her up whenever he wasn’t working so she didn’t have to take the bus. If that meant spending thirty minutes in a line of slow-moving cars, so be it.

As he was jamming, he glanced out the passenger window, finding a smaller building with a chain link fence outside, surrounding a child’s playground. The door happened to swing open while he was looking, and from there time seemed to move in slow motion.

Out of the door came a dozen or so toddlers, waddling their way outside, surrounding the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. The sun bounced off of your skin perfectly, making everything around you seem so much brighter.

Your skirt flowed with the slight breeze, making the scene more picturesque. He watched as you reached down, picking up one of the toddlers and holding him in your arms. The small boy seemed to be crying, over what Colson couldn’t tell.

You seemed to be speaking to the boy, bouncing him up and down in your arms to comfort him. Meanwhile, a little girl with pigtails made her way over to you. You spoke to her brightly, reaching the arm that wasn’t holding the boy to hold her hand.

Colson’s eyes followed you as you let her drag you over to the playground. You supported her as she climbed the small rock-climbing wall and reach the landing for the slide. You then smiled as she made her way down the slide, telling her good job when she made it to the bottom.

You then turned your attention back to the boy in your arms, making silly faces at him until he laughed.

All it took was those few moments for Colson to get hooked. If there was one thing he found attractive above all else, it was women who loved children. He refused to date anyone who wasn’t supportive of his relationship with Casie, so you were already ahead of everyone on his list. It also helped that you were breathtakingly beautiful.

Colson just got good vibes from you. From his brief observation of you, he could tell you were compassionate and kind, but also childlike and fun, much like himself.

The blonde man was pulled from his thoughts as the car in front of him started moving, signaling the line was moving.

 The next day, Colson had a plan. Instead of driving into the school parking lot, he pulled into the pre-school. He checked himself out in the mirror, praying he would see you working. He stepped out of the car, putting on his best confused dad face, and walked into the building.

And by some miracle, you happened to be speaking with the woman at the front desk.

You were even prettier up close, eyes meeting his and stopping him dead in his tracks. You smiled kindly, voice ringing out, “can I help you, sir.”

He returned your smile, “I was looking for the middle school but I have a feeling I ended up in the wrong place.”

You giggled slightly, “just a little. The middle school is just next door.” You pointed to your right. “Are you picking up a sibling?” You asked.

Truthfully, the man had caught your eye the moment he stepped into the door. It was rare you saw someone your own age, and he was exponentially more attractive than most men. What would it hurt if you got to know him a little bit?

“My daughter, actually.” He spoke, fiddling with the key in his hand. You tilted your head, his face seeming vaguely familiar.

You hesitated before speaking, “who’s your daughter? I substitute over there sometimes and you look vaguely familiar.”

He bit his lip, hoping he hadn’t blown his cover. “Casie Baker.” But surely, he’d have remembered you if he’d met you.

Your eyes widened at the name, “Casie? She’s my absolute favorite!” You grinned at the man, realizing immediately that their similar features made him feel familiar. “She’s awesome.”

Colson smiled, letting out a nervous chuckle, “thank you. Yeah, she’s great.”

“She tells me about you. Whenever I sub in her classes, she talks about how cool you are.”

Colson blushed lightly, rubbing his neck. “I’m Colson.” He reached out an arm to shake your hand, mentally kicking himself as soon as he did it.

You found it endearing, shaking his hand “Y/N.”

 A few days passed and Colson still couldn’t get over how soft your hands were, or how your touch sent electricity running through his body.

He felt ridiculous, leaving rehearsals and recording sessions to pick Casie up with the hope that he gets a glimpse of you.

After a few days of nothing, he almost loses that hope. Until he happens to arrive at the school a little bit early, windows rolled down to let the cool air in. He hears the sudden sound of children laughing, pulling his attention to the playground next door.

And there you are, in all your beautiful glory. Guiding the kids out, helping them into swings and onto the stairs.

Colson must’ve pleased some God because you looked over your shoulder and found him. Of all the cars in the line, you found his, eyes locking immediately. You smiled softly, reaching a hand over to him and waving. He waved back, trying to keep his cool. But really, he was freaking out.

He thought about saying something, or mouthing something, rather, as you were too far away to hear him, but he was stopped by the beautiful brown hair of his favorite girl in the world. Casie plopped herself down on the seat next to him, her backpack falling to the floor with a frown on her face.

She looked up to her dad, about to complain about her day when she saw his preoccupation. She followed his eyes, finding you in the playground. Immediately her mood was lifted, and she turned back to her dad with a grin on her face.

“Daaad?” She questioned, her voice lifting at the end of her question. The blond man looked down to her a soft smile in his face.

“Hey Case, how was school?”

“You think she’s pretty, right?” Casie ignored his question.

Colson scoffed, rolling his eyes, and shifting his car into gear. “She’s… pretty. I guess.” He mumbled, pressing lightly on the gas.

Casie continued smiling up at him, “that’s Ms. Y/N. She’s the coolest.”

“Put your seatbelt on.” He said, pulling out of the parking lot. “And I know, I met her the other day.”

Casie’s eyes lit up at the thought of her two favorite adults meeting. “Really? How? Did you like her?”

Colson chuckled at his daughter, “I went into the pre-school parking lot by accident and she showed me how to get here.” He blushed, knowing Casie would easily spot his lie.

And that she did, “I’ve been going here for almost two years, how did you accidentally go into the wrong parking lot? You pick me up all the time.”

Colson coughed nervously, “so, how was school?” He tried to change the subject.

Casie gasped, “did you go to the preschool just to see her? You like her!”

“I just met her Casie.”

“You like Ms. Y/N!” she sang, dancing in her seat.

“How was school, loser?” He asked, laughing at her.

She ignored him, again. “Does she know you’re my dad? Did she say anything about me?”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself at her excitement. “Yes, she does, and yes, she did.”

“What did she say?” Casie practically yelled.

“She said you were the worst student she’s ever substituted for.” He smirked, flinching lightly as Casie slapped his arm.

“She did not say that!” The girl pouted, “Ms. Y/N is my favorite teacher in the whole world.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her affection for you. “She’s not even technically your teacher. But she did say that you were her favorite student.”

Her eyes twinkled, “really?”

Colson nodded, “she also told me that you talk about me in class.” He looked at the girl, raising an eyebrow, “any reason why?”

Casie sunk into her seat, a guilty expression on her face. “No.” Colson looked back to the road, but his eyebrow was still raised, “Okay, fine. I just think it’d be really cool if my favorite dad and my favorite teacher were… friends.”

Colson laughed, “I am your only dad, first of all, and second… don’t be weird.”

“But you said you liked her!” Casie pointed out, making the man’s ears turn red.

“I said she was pretty, that’s not the same thing.”

Casie sang again, “whatever you say.”

He rolled his eyes again, letting out a sigh and dropping the conversation, knowing he would lose. “Are you gonna tell me how school was or not?”

Casie sighed, hitting her back against the seat, “Mr. Clemmons was being mean today again. He said he’s not gonna curve our test even though only 2 people got an A on it.” She crossed her arms and huffed.

Colson pouted, bringing a hand to rub her shoulder, “what’d you get on it?”

She mumbled out, “a B.”

His eyes went wide, “dude, what? That’s awesome, that’s above average. You should be proud of that!” He always tried to encourage Casie, knowing the insane amount of pressure people put on their kids nowadays and not wanting her to feel that.

Casie shrugged, “yeah but my guidance counselor says if I want to get into a magnet program in high school, I have to get all A’s. And I have to get in a magnet program high school to get into a good college.”

His eyes went wide as he pulled into his driveway, “woah, woah, woah. You’re 11 years old! You don’t need to worry about that stuff and whoever is telling you that is wrong. Getting a B or even a C isn’t gonna stop you from getting into whatever program you want, I promise.”

Casie sighed, opening the door, and sliding out. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Can we go back to talking about how you like Ms. Y/N?” She asked, her shoulders slumped.

Colson rolled his eyes, climbing out of the car and following her inside. “I don’t like Ms. Y/N.” He groaned.

“Whatever, but next time she substitutes my class, I’m texting you and you’re gonna bring me lunch and talk to her.” Casie said, going to her room and throwing her backpack onto her bed.

 A week and a half later, Colson was sitting in his car in the school parking lot, staring at himself through his rearview mirror. He looked at the bag of chick-fil-a in the passenger side seat and sighed. His phone buzzed, a text from Casie coming through.

Lunch is starting, where are you???

He chuckled and texted back.

Going to the office now, calm down

He grabbed the bags and drinks, opening his door and stepping out. He made his way through the office, getting his visitor’s badge, and moving towards the cafeteria. He opened the door, searching through the sea of children for his daughter, only to find your eyes instead.

You smiled brightly, head tilting as if to ask why he’s here. He returned the smile, holding up the bags to answer your question. Casie appeared next to you, waving her hand. Colson made his way through the pre-teens, trying not to crush any of them.

Casie and you giggled at his struggle, joking with each other. Eventually he reached you two, setting the food on the table that Casie had reserved just for you three. The girl took her place across from him, motioning you to sit down next to him. You laughed but followed her directions.

Colson took the food out of the bag, passing Casie her sandwich and fries and pulling his food out of the bag. He turned to you, a smile on his face. “Woah, they must’ve given me an extra sandwich.” He held it out for you to take.

You obliged, giggling lightly. “How strange.” You commented, your smile never leaving.

“Oh, right. Ms. Y/N, this is my dad, Colson. Dad, this is Ms. Y/N, the best substitute ever.” Casie said, pointing between the two.

Colson chuckled, “yes, Casie. We’ve met.” He looked over to you, hiding his laugh behind his sandwich.

“Yep. Someone got lost and found me at the preschool.” You said, your voice exaggerating. Shit, Colson thought, you were onto him. “Speaking of, Casie. I know you’ve been talking about needing volunteer hours. If you want you can come by after school some days and help me with the aftercare program? I can take you home afterwards if your dad can’t pick you up.”

Casie smiled brightly, nodding her head. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Colson watched the interaction, fondness in his eyes. If he wasn’t sure before, he was now. He was falling hard.

You turned to him, kindness in your eyes, “if it’s okay with your dad.” You said and he nodded.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind having her around. I’m cool with it.” He tried to hide the blush on his cheeks as you continued to look at him, taking in his features.

Casie squealed, “thank you!”

You simply smiled and shrugged, “it’s not a big deal. I get some extra help and I get to spend some more time with my favorite 11-year-old. Maybe her dad can even stop by and help sometime.”

You turned to the man next to you, who was sure he’d turned very red. He was never this nervous around women, but something about you made him incredibly self-conscious, like he had to impress you.

He mumbled out a quick “huh?” before registering your question. “Uh, yeah, sure. If you want me to come help. I’d be cool with that.” He turned to meet your eyes.

You giggled, holding the eye contact, “I do want you to. I’d like it a lot if you did.”

Casie looked between you two, suddenly regretting what she’d done, “are you two done? I’m trying to eat my sandwich.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker fluff #colson imagine #colson baker x reader

[bumblesimagines]

Forgotten Fairytale

Part 3

Request: Yes or No

~

“We have two announcements today. First, we have a new student, (Y/N). As some of you may know, (Y/N) is a dragon-vampire hybrid and I expect each and everyone of you to treat him with respect. To whom it may concern, he is not our next monster. We’ve recently encountered a Night Hag.” Alaric announced to the remaining student body that had chosen not to leave. You kept your arms crossed, making eye contact with Hope. You gave her a triumphant smirk and got an eye roll in return.

“A Night Hag is a malevolent spirit trapped on the astral plane that can only interact with us through dreams. In this case, nightmares.” Alaric explained, murmurs spreading through the students. 

“So, like, Freddy Kruger?” 

“Well, in the sense that what happens to you in your dreams seems to happen to you in real life, yes. But, the good news is we’re safe, so long as we stay awake.” Alaric explained, nodding to the questions. He noticed tension rise and cleared his throat. 

“We’ve lined up more evacuation shuttles. They should be running all afternoon, so please, for those who don’t want to stay and fight, take advantage of them.” Alaric licked his lips. You gave a small snort, biting your bottom lip. Ryan had mentioned a possible run in with monsters but he seemed confident in your abilities to protect yourself. Once you had your father back, you’d make sure he faced some monsters of his own. You stood once Alaric dismissed everyone, noticing him motion for you to come over. With a deep sigh, you walked towards the stage he was on. 

“I’ve got your classes sorted out. You’ll be taking typical high school courses, plus some of the supernatural courses we typically give to everyone. You’ll have some vampire classes and finally, a one-on-one with Dorian to talk about dragons. Dorian insisted on it. I would like you to speak with Emma, she’s one of our teachers and also the counselor for those who need one.” Alaric explained, handing you a paper. You gave it a once over before looking up at him.

“And why would I need to speak with a counselor? I’m perfectly fine.” 

“Considering you walked out on Dorian after a mention of your father, I don’t think you’re fine.” Alaric gave a tight lipped smile, patting your arm as he walked by. You blew a raspberry, looking back down at the paper. 

“Oh, and by the way, these uniforms are horrendous.” You called to him, stepping off the stage and making brief eye contact with Hope as she spoke to Landon. 

“I have to agree with you on the uniforms being horrendous. We look like preppy golf kids.” You looked at the guy walking beside you. 

“All we’re missing are the pants and the golf course.” You grinned, chuckling as the guy nodded and laughed along. 

“I’m Kaleb, by the way. I’m a vampire, so I guess that means I’ll be seeing you around.” Kaleb gave a grin. You hummed, looking forward.

“Man, you and those other dudes got lucky. You don’t have to take these exams.”

“But, we do have to deal with the bullshit this school brings.” You stopped by a water fountain, leaning down and drinking from it. Kaleb leaned against the wall, arms crossing.

“Actually, I think that Landon guy was the one who brought the monsters with him. Things went to shit when he got here and-”

“It’s not Landons fault. The knife had been at this school for god knows how long.” You leaned up, wiping your mouth as your gaze fell on Rafael. 

“Well, like I said, we gotta deal with the bullshit the school brings.”

“And to do that, we have to be a team. We can’t insult or push each other away.” Rafael said, glancing between you and Kaleb. You let out a small snort, grinning as you shook your head. 

“Doesn’t that go against your nature? That’s all mutts know how to do. That and throw temper tantrums.” Kaleb snickered at your words. Rafael sighed, eyes shutting briefly in an attempt to stay calm and relaxed.

“You don’t have to worry about me, puppy. I can be a good teammate as long as you stay out of my way. Same goes for you.” You glanced at Kaleb before turning around and walking away. You walked to your first class, stepping inside and getting ready for a boring day of school.

~~~~~~~~~~

You ran your fingers over the books on the shelves, grabbing one and pulling it out of the shelf. You stepped out of the library and found a nice cushion seat, opening the book and flipping through the pages. You stopped on the one you had been looking for. 

Klaus Mikaelson: The Great Evil

Your eyes swept over the writing, searching for any mention of Hope. She was powerful but she hadn’t become a full tribrid yet. You paused, hearing footsteps coming from the hallway along with someone humming softly.

“Dr. Saltzman!”

“”Dr. Saltzman, I have changed my mind. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer and get the hell out with every other sane person here.””

“No, actually, I took your advice and I stayed busy, and I think I found something.” You lifted your head at Landon’s words, hearing their footsteps head back down the hall. You stood up from your seat, turning your head and watching them turn a corner. You looked down at the book in your hands, gently biting your bottom lip. 

“I definitely didn’t sign up for this… but I might as well enjoy the ride.” You looked back up, heading down the hall and entering the small library where Landon, Hope, and Alaric were at. You leaned against the railing, watching them speak.

“Why would a monster need to disguise itself as another monster? The Oneiroi sounds freaky enough.” Hope said, glancing between Landon and Alaric.

“Because if we knew what it actually was..”

“We’d know how to stop it.” Alaric finished for him, nodding. 

“Hope, kiss him for me.” Alaric said, turning and heading towards the stairs. He looked up, noticing you. He slowed down, head tilting.

“Need something, (Y/N)?” Alaric asked, heading up the stairs. You shook your head, fingers drumming against the book.

“Just eavesdropping.” You shrugged. Alaric let out a small laugh, nodding as he walked by.

“Don’t think you’re off my radar, (Y/N).” Hope called, arms crossing as she cocked a brow at you. 

“I’m honored you care so much about me, Red. It’s real sweet, though I think you should be more invested in your boytoy. Keep your eye on this one, Discount Jughead. She seems to have… a wandering eye. You shouldn’t forget who her mother was in love with.” You gave them a wink, turning around. You stepped towards a bookshelf, sliding the book into the shelf. 

“What about your family? What were they like?” Hope asked, approaching the stairs. You turned to look at her. 

“My mother gave my father a gift and then she left. At least she didn’t die because of me.” You leaned forward slightly as she got closer. Hope stopped a few feet from you, jaw clenching. 

“You know nothing about me.”

“I could say the same, Red. I might’ve been a dick when I was younger but atleast I never tried to kill someone who loves me and raised me. You had a mother who was invested in you and loved you. It would’ve never crossed my mind to hurt my father, no matter how pissed I was.” You sneered, watching her facade begin to crumble. Hope remained silent for a few passing minutes. 

“We should probably tell the others about our new discovery.” Landon piped up softly. Hope turned her head towards him, nodding.

“Yeah, I.. I have a plan.” Hope breathed out, looking back at you.

“Making enemies on your first day is the stupidest idea you’ve probably come up with.” Hope said, brushing past you. Landon slowly walked up the stairs, awkwardly approaching you.

“Hope is a.. She’s a good person-”

“You don’t have to defend her when she’s not around, My Chemical Romance.” You stared at him, giving a small eye roll. 

“Why are you such a dick?”

“Well, my dad told me my mom was a bit of a bitch. I probably got it from her.” You shrugged, turning around and leaving the library. You heard Landon catch up with you.

“I was in the foster system for most of my life. I can understand some of your feelings regarding not knowing your mom and-”

“Listen, Gerard Way, I’m not interested in being your friend. I’ve been taught and shown that humans are the least trustworthy creatures on this planet. It’s better to be alone than to trust a human. They’re like chihuahuas. They think they’re at the top when they’re actually at the bottom and I’d rather not have my life in the hands of one.” You looked at him.

“Fair comparison.” Landon mumbled. “But, some humans are good and they mean well-”

“We can have this conversation after I take a nap.” You entered the lounge area where Hope had gathered the rest of the boys. Hope explained that the Night Hag was actually an Oneiroi. 

“I know it sounds bad, but now that we know what the creature is, we can fight it.”

“How the hell are we supposed to kill a dream demon?”

“Leave that to me. But since I can’t fall asleep without compromising the location of the urn, I need someone else to pull it out of the dream plane and into our waking reality.” Hope explained, looking over everyone. 

“So, Freddy Krueger, like I said.” Another vampire, MG, pointed out.

“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?” Rafael asked, looking back at Hope.

“By entering the dream plane, getting a hold of it, and waking yourself up.” You answered, shrugging lightly.

“Just like in the movies.” MG nodded in agreement to your response. Kaleb hummed, nodding. 

“Is it too late to get on the evacuation bus?” Kaleb asked, tilting his head as you snorted. Hope gave a sympathetic look.

“No. I mean, I’m not gonna ask all of you to stay for this, it has to be your choice.” Hope said, silence following. Landon quickly stood up.

“I’m not leaving unless Hope does.” Landon said. Hope didn’t seem exactly thrilled as she gave a small hum. She looked at Rafael, brows raised in question.

“I’m not leaving Landon behind.” 

“You two are very codependent.” You mumbled, hearing Kaleb snicker and nod. 

“I’m a founding member of the Super Squad-”

“The fuck is a ‘Super Squad’?”

“-So I can’t bail.” MG stood up from his seat with a supporting smile. The four of them turned towards you and Kaleb.

“Y’all are gonna get yourselves killed.” Kaleb said, looking at Hope. 

“But if MG stays, I stay.” He added with a sigh, looking at you. 

“This reeks of drama and chaos so, I’m definitely staying and watching this go down.” You grinned, shrugging lightly. “But I’m not gonna be a member of this.. ‘Super Squad’ shit you have going on.” 

“In that case, it’s naptime.” Hope said, giving a small nod. 

“I’ll go speak with Dr. Saltzman. Get set up in the gym. Bring blankets, pillows, and anything else that might help you fall asleep.” Hope walked past them and Landon quickly followed. 

“Codependency is a big problem here, huh?” You shook your head, glancing at Kaleb. You grabbed one of the pillows off the couch and turned, heading towards the gym. You watched the others bring the necessary stuff, Hope and Landon entering while deep in what seemed like an argument. 

“You are gonna sleep with us, right?” Kaleb asked, noticing you hadn't made a small bed like they had.

“No.” You shook your head, arms crossing.

“What do you mean, no?” Landon frowned, brows furrowing.

“You don’t want to see me wake up from a nightmare. Accidental shifting and accidental arson isn’t pretty.” You shrugged lightly. Hope hummed.

“We don’t need a confused dragon causing an accident.” Hope looked at the rest of the guys. They lied down in a circle, slowly falling asleep one by one. Hope stepped towards you, closely watching each of them. 

“It was a shit move to bring up your mom. I’ve been on edge since dad disappeared.” You said quietly, ignoring the surprised look Hope gave you. 

“Sorry for that.” You walked away from her, careful to be quiet so as to not wake them up. You noticed each of the boys becoming more twitchy, faces contorted in confusion or fear as the hours began to pass. 

“How come you aren’t tired?” Hope asked softly. 

“You think I could sleep with my only family gone?” You looked at her with raised brows. Hope nodded, looking down to see that Rafael, MG, and Kaleb had stopped twitching as much.

“It’s almost time.” Hope turned, quickly leaving the gym. You gently toyed with your necklace, licking your lips and turning to face the boys when they all suddenly awoke. They stood and began talking all at once, making you huff in annoyance.

“Calm down, Hope’s handling it.” 

“What? What the hell-” Landon was cut off by Oneiroi and Hope crashing through one of the doors. Hope quickly got up, blowing some hair out of her face.

“Stay back, I got this.” She called, running forward and tackling the demon before promptly getting choked. 

“Yeah, she’s totally got this.” You mumbled, picking up two wooden pieces that had belonged to the now broken doors. You approached her, stabbing the pieces through the demons’ eyes. Hope let out a gasp for breath as the demon disappeared into a cloud.

“Thank you.” She coughed, rubbing her throat. 

“Next time, be prepared.” You stood, letting Landon help her up as Alaric rushed in with his crossbow. You tossed the wood aside, turning and walking past Alaric. You thought back on the urn and Hope mentioning she knew where it was. Befriending her to find it would be a problem in itself.

“(Y/N)!” Alaric called after you, quickly jogging after you. You turned to face him, raising a brow.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for helping Hope. How’d you know how to kill it?” Alaric asked.

“Like I said, dragons don’t just horde inanimate objects. I like to read as a pastime and most of the time, the books have to do with the supernatural.” You answered, shrugging lightly. Alaric nodded, reaching out and gently touching your arm.

“Thank you.. I’m sure Hope appreciates it.” Alaric gave a small smile. You nodded, licking your lips as Alaric turned and went to check on everyone. He passed by Hope who gave him a small smile and nod. She turned her head to look at you, arms gently wrapping around herself. She slowly approached you, gaze on the ground. 

“I know you could’ve just let me get hurt but.. Thank you for helping me. I know we got off on a terrible foot so, I hope we can be a bit more civil with each other.” 

“We’ll see.”

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #legacies x reader #legacies #legacies x y/n #legacies x you #legacies x male reader #hope mikaelson #kaleb hawkins #milton greasley #landon kirby #alaric saltzman #rafael waithe #x dragon reader

[forestwater87]

Okay, for all of you who don't feel like watching Miles RP as David

Here are some of my favorite quotes. Context may be added if I feel like it. Reactions are my goblin brain screaming. All of these came from a discord so if they don't make sense . . . see goblin brain comment.

(That link should start directly at the point where he becomes David; if it doesn't, skip to 1:40:33)

In roughly chronological order:

David: "Teachers are sort of like camp counselors during the rest of the year."

The thing is David is absolutely up his own ass enough to think this.

David: "Trail mix is expensive!"

^ said to show he understands why not everyone can donate to the charity for teachers. Very adorable, am crying.

David's "ooooh" seeing one dude was extremely non-heterosexual. Fucking bicon. Him losing his mind that one of the arenas is called "Survey camp"

David: "A person's hitting me -- I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry this is just pretend!"

This is just canonically how David plays video games. Either this or he's unwilling to commit violence at all, but I'll defer to Miles.

David: "That's very goat of you!"

Spencer: "Is David popular amongst his campers?"

David: "I like to think so! There's only 3 staff members, so I'm definitely in everyone's top 3."

"That also means you're in the bottom 3."

David: "Well, I choose not to think of it that way."

(I have to keep adding reacts so you can tell when one quote ends and another begins. Judge not lest ye be judged)

I think the other person in the stream is named Spencer. Friend of Miles. I know literally nothing else about him and am not even confident on those facts.

Every time he says something so non-David in his David voice I die: "I have a lot of grenades!"

David: "Oh my goodness, would you look at this beautiful scenery! Can we hike that mountain?"

This is so goddamn cute. I am dying. Miles looked at his fans and said "they will eat tonight" and I am so relieved.

David: "Not to be a couple of Greedy Garys, but I say we get this [care package] and then I'll drop another one!"

The fact that Miles is grinning like a lunatic the entire time is very good. (Also if this is formatted badly then I'm sorry but not all that sorry. I'm doing my best and David would be proud of me.)

David: "Didja getim? Didja getim? didja getim? How 'bout now?"

Spencer: "I didn't get 'em."

David: "Well, you tried your best and that's all that matters."

He calls healing "a little health kiss." I'm not sure why but it's very important to me.

David: [while jumping to murder someone] "Hi! Scuse me!"

(i just need something to separate the quotes okay)

David: "Well you know what gang, we did our best. You don't always win the 3-legged race. You did a wonderful job!"

Then there's a bit where they talk about Spencer's time at summer camp:

David: "ooooh hand-holding's pretty serious!"

David is too pure.

David: [dreamily] "Did you fall in love, Spencer? A summer love?" [puts hands up to his face]

Then there's the fact that David/Miles gets to pick where they play each round, and he keeps insisting on going to the one called "Survey Camp" every single time because it has the word "camp" in it.

David: "Now, I don't like to disagree, but . . . I was thinking we could go . . . to Survey Camp!"

Spencer reminds him that technically since David's the one with the power to choose, his opinion is the only one that matters:

David: "Everyone's opinion matters. And my opinion is we're going to camp."

David just steamrolling over Spencer's interests is very good. There are these little selfish nuggets sprinkled in among the wholesomeness that really capture the full David experience.

David: "Well, he's climbing up . . . he's coming my direction . . . oh, he looks scary . . ."

Spencer: "Is he coming towards me?"

David: "Oooh, I don't know. I'm dead!"

The positivity is relentless. I think Miles said on twitter afterwards that this whole thing was exhausting and I can see why. Being David is no picnic . . .

David: "I have a question: do we have to shoot each other in this game?"

And then a few seconds later:

David: "I'm just wondering if maybe there's a way we can, you know, help others. Talk through our issues."

And a few seconds after that:

David: "I was asking if they wanted to be friends in the game!"

I believe that moved killed him, too. Precious.

Also we're interrupting the real Miles!David content to share something my friend suggested to me while I was watching this and giving her quotes; she said that maybe David just calls everything camp to make life more fun, and then sent me this imaginary exchange that actually killed me all the way to death:

David: Gwen Santos would you go to marriage camp with me

Gwen: I'm going to have to change this story when I tell everyone

It made me laugh quite a bit.

Anyway, back to the video!

Spencer: "How do you sign up for [Camp Campbell]?"

David: "Well, um, you can fax, uh, an application to [email protected]. And . . . you can know that myself and Gwen and Quartermaster and sometimes Mr. Campbell will do our best to make sure they get what they need! Which more than anything is love and support. And friendship."

Spencer: "How many dollars does this camp cost?"

David: "You know . . . it is, um . . ."

And then the conversation switches subjects and David breathes a sigh of relief.

Very shortly after this he changed his character from a woman (she was wearing a yellow shirt, which he liked because the campers wear yellow shirts) to "a Forward Scout with a positive attitude!"

"I like his style."

Spencer: "Does everybody abuse David verbally?"

David: "You know, sometimes people have harsh words. Mostly Max, and Neil, and Gwen, and Quartermaster, and Nurf."

Spencer: "Did you just list almost everyone?"

David: "Mmm . . . I'd say maybe a third."

Poor David. Somebody please protect him.

Spencer: "Yeah, I think people abuse David. I get that vibe. Or at least, I feel it in my heart. Like I wanna put ants in your bunk or something."

David: "Well, I think that says more about maybe some of the hurt you're carrying with you. And sometimes when people don't know how to process that, they act out. Do you want some trail mix?"

David just said his favorite part of trail mix is the raisins which is so cute. "They have a little bit of salt on them, which isn't typical for a raisin."

And he keeps telling chatters to watch their language.

David: "Who is my favorite camper? Aww, you know I couldn't pick a favorite! . . . But I know who has the most potential, even if he doesn't want to admit it."

I KNEW IT!!!!!

I've been saying for years that David doesn't have a favorite and gravitates towards the ones he thinks need him the most AND I FINALLY GOT ONE RIGHT!

David: "Well you know, Gwen swears and that's okay."

shipping intensifies

David: [gasp] "The moss is growing on the north side of the rock!"

Every time he nerds out about weird shit in the game I gain 3 seconds to my life.

Spencer: "Did you get teabagged?"

David: "What's that?"

Spencer: "It's where somebody places their most intimate bits on you for . . . friendship."

David: [softly] "Oh, I don't know about that."

Also David confirms that the whole show has been a single summer, so please see the "vindication" gif above.

David: "I know a lot of fun camp songs."

Spencer: "Sing 3."

David: [starts singing] "Bum-bum-bumblebee, bumblebee tuna, I love bumblebee, bumblebee tuna . . ."

Spencer: "Okay, please stop. I immediately regret this decision."

David: "Max said the same thing! One of my campers. And, uh, and my co-counselor, Gwen."

He's literally made of sunshine. I would die for this fictional man.

Spencer: "Are people at camp against their will? I feel like they are."

David: "No! . . . They don't always like it immediately, but it grows on them."

Spencer: "It sounds like they're there against their will."

David: "Well I just think that's a negative way of looking at it."

FWIW Spencer makes an excellent foil to David. Not as aggressive as Max or as dour as Gwen, but he brings a very . . . like, straight-man energy to the conversation. Like how a normal person would react to David IRL. I'd enjoy seeing these two interact more.

Spencer: "It's like your overpositivity is wanting me to balance it out with negativity."

David: "You know, I feel like that dynamic's pretty popular with me."

eeeeeeee <3

And the last one that I personally found noteworthy:

David: "One day we'll be able to afford safety equipment. Until then, we'll just have to deal with Quartermaster's Ropes Course. And a lot of pillows."

There's point near the last 20 minutes where either it got kinda boring or I just got too tired to keep track. But if there are any quotes you think I missed, please share them! This was a really lovely bit of content to feed our starving maw, and I appreciate Miles very very very much for taking one for the team.

#campcamp #camp camp #cc david #roosterteeth #rooster teeth #miles luna #this isn't content #it's more like a public service #also i threw the gwenvid in like the trash goblin I am

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 3

Word Count: 3,195

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ storyline.

Chapter: 3/?

Warnings:  brief mention of attempted suicide

A/N: If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 3

"Time!" Mr. Harris looked up from his watch. "If you catalyzed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal."

I looked down at my beaker and saw a horrible concoction of half crystal and half goo. Thanks to Stiles, my last partner of this weird-ass rotation the chemistry teacher had us partake in. Yet even though I didn't get with Stiles that well I was relieved that he was my partner. Isaac had been completely insufferable these last few days and I couldn't handle that.

"Now this part of the experiment I'm sure you'll all enjoy. You can eat it." I was bummed that I couldn't eat mine and I guess Lydia noticed.

"Hey, (Y/N), we can share mine. Don't frown." I smiled at her and she returned it.

After Lydia gave me half her rock crystal, Scott just stood up and screamed our names to stop, and everyone else just stared at us. We both turned and gave the boy a weird stare before diverging our attention back to the candy. After clinking our candies against the other, we savored the sweet treat.

Allison's POV

"Derek is outside waiting for (Y/N) and Lydia," Scott said.

"Waiting to kill them?"

"If he thinks one of them is the Kanima, then yes. Especially after what happened at the pool."

"It's not Lydia."

"Stiles, she didn't pass the test, man. Nothing happened."

"No, it can't be her."

"Well, it's not (Y/N) either."

"Well, it could be her."

"What is that supposed to mean?!" What the hell was his problem?

"Well, we have no idea who she is, and she hasn't really proven to be a good person. And the attacks did start after she first arrived at Beacon Hills."

"You don't know her, I do. Believe me, it's not her. I've known her my whole life. I think I would have noticed her turning into a killing lizard and I don't think I would be here to tell you. So, we can cross her out." We both sighed. "But it doesn't matter because Derek thinks it's one of them. So, either we can convince him that he's wrong or we've got to figure out a way to protect them."

"Well, I don't think he's gonna do anything here. Not at school." Scott stepped in.

"What about after school?" I asked and he sighed. "What if we can prove that Derek's wrong?"

"By three o'clock?"

"There can be something in the bestiary."

"Oh, you mean the 900-page book written in Archaic Latin that none of us can read? Good luck with that." Seriously Stiles, not helping. At least I was trying.

"Actually, I think there might be someone who can translate," I said thinking about our guidance counselor.

"Uh, I can talk to Derek maybe convince him to give us a chance to prove it's not either of them or... But if anything happens you guys let me handle it, okay?"

"What does that mean?"

"You can't heal like I do." I stared at him. I wasn't a defenseless baby. "I just don't want you getting hurt."

"I can protect myself." I took the crossbow out of my bag. He said nothing. "What? Did something else happen?"

"I just don't want you getting hurt. Seriously, if anything goes wrong you call me, okay?! I don't care if your dad finds out. Call or text, scream or yell; whatever, I'll find you as fast as I can." He stared straight into my eyes.

"We have until three."

He turned to leave until my crossbow went off. "Ooh." Scott quickly turned around and caught the arrow.

"Aah. Sorry." Stiles handed me the crossbow. "Sorry. Sensed a trigger on that."

Scott's POV

Currently, Stiles was on Lydia's and (Y/N)'s trail, and I was on the field with Boyd trying to find Derek.

"I wanna talk to Derek."

"Talk to me."

"I don't wanna fight."

"Good. Cause I'm twice the size of you" I looked up to find it true.

"True. Really, really true." He smirked. "But you wanna know what I think? I'm twice as fast." I smirked back and tackled him to the ground. Once we stood up, Derek appeared by our side.

"She failed the test." His face held his iconic scowl, and his arms were crossed.

"Yeah, but that doesn't prove anything. Lydia's different."

"I know. At night she turns into a homicidal walking snake."

"I'm not gonna let you kill her."

"Who said I was gonna do it?" I looked back to the school and realized Erica and Isaac were still back in the building. I tried to run towards it, but Boyd threw me down. "I don't know why you think you have to protect everyone now, Scott. But even so, Lydia has killed people and she's gonna do it again. And next time it's gonna be one of us."

"What if you're wrong? For all we know it could also be (Y/N). She didn't pass either, and how is it a coincidence that the attacks started after she arrived?" For a second I could have sworn there was a sign of desperation and worry in his face. But as quick as I blinked the look was gone.

"Lydia was bitten by an alpha. It's her."

"You saw that thing up close. You know it's not like us."

"But it is! We're all shapeshifters. You don't know what you're dealing with. It happens rarely and it happens for a reason."

"What reason?"

"Sometimes the shape you take reflects the person that you are." He gave me his hand and helped me up. "Even Stiles calls her cold-blooded."

"Well, what if she's immune? What if she has something else inside of her that makes her immune to the bite which is why she didn't get paralyzed."

"No one's immune. We've never seen it or heard of it. It's n... It's never happened." He argued.

"What about Jackson?" He looked away. "That's why you tested him, isn't it? Because you gave him what he wanted, didn't you?"

"Scott..."

"You said the bite either kills you or turns you. You were probably hoping that he would die. But nothing happened, right? You have no idea why do you?"

"No." Derek's jaw clenched and I knew I struck a never, so I pressured on buying more time.

"I have a theory. That she's immune and that somehow, she passed it on to Jackson. You know I'm right."

"No!

"You can NOT do this!"

"Look, I can't let her live! You should've known that."

"I was hoping I could convince you but then, I wasn't counting on it." He looked at me frazzled as to what I meant, I just smirked.

(Y/N)'s POV

Being stuck with Stiles and Lydia in the library is torture, an experiment I did not want to know the result of. Actually, just Stiles. Ever since Chemistry he had been on our trail like a lost puppy. Lydia and I had a project to work with, and he was just in the way. He was acting so weird and fidgety, more than usual.

"Hey, Allison. What are you doing here?" Lydia said looking behind her.

"Oh nothing, just wondering if you wanted to get together for a study group."

"Sure, that would actually maybe let the tension leave this group," I said and as we were leaving, Jackson joined.

"Study group? I'm coming with."

"Great." We left through the back door of the library, lord knows why, and we were walking at top speed.

"If we're doing a study group why don't we just stay in the library?" Lydia said. I was asking myself the same thing but since everyone else had stood up, I just followed.

"Because we're meeting up with somebody else."

"Why don't they just meet us at the library?" I asked.

"Oh, that would have been a great idea! Too late."

"Okay, hold on..." Lydia started saying but Jackson stopped her by grabbing her arm.

"Lydia, shut up and walk." Jerk.

We all got inside of Stile's jeep since he thought it would be faster that way because we were already late. It was an awkward ride to what I learned was Scott's house. No one said much except for the casual groan or scoff coming from Lydia.

"If we're meeting at Scott's house, where's Scott?" Lydia asked.

"Meeting us here. I think. I hope." Stiles said as he led us up to the front steps and into Scott's house.

Once inside he closed every single lock there was on the door. My reaction was involuntary as I stared at the slim boy in front of me as if he was another worldly creature.

"Uh, there's been a few break-ins in the neighborhood." He then put a chair on the doorknob and now Lydia joined in the stare. "And a murder. Yeah, it was bad."

"Lydia, follow me. I need to talk to you for a minute." Jackson spoke up.

"Seriously, what is going on with everyone?" Lydia said exasperated.

"Actually, I've been thinking the same thing. What the hell is going on?" I asked once Jackon and Lydia were out of sight.

"Nothing. Like we said it's just a study group." Stiles answered and I crossed my arms against my chest. Groveling for an answer seemed completely futile in this situation.

Allison's POV

"You know what, (Y/N). Why don't you go into the kitchen and help yourself to anything or go upstairs and lay down? I think Scott will take a while."

"O-kay?" She headed upstairs with an audible sigh and I motioned to Stiles to give me his phone to dial Scott.

"Hey, it's me. You need to get here. Quick." I looked outside and saw Derek and his pack waiting. I looked at the phone after Scott hung up and started dialing my dad's number.

"What are you doing?"

"I think... I think I have to call my dad."

"But if he finds you here, you and Scott..."

"I know." I stared at him. "What are we supposed to do? They're not here to scare us, okay, they're here to kill Lydia... Or, or even (Y/N)." We stood in silence and I debated on whether if it would be a good idea to call my father. If I did my relationship with Scott would be completely and truly over and if I didn't there could be a chance I would be down a friend or even a cousin.

"I've got an idea." I looked at a nervous Stiles. "Shoot one of them."

"Are you serious?"

"We told Scott we could protect ourselves. So, let's do it, at least give it a shot, right?" I debated for a moment.

"Okay." I don't think I sounded too confident.

"Look, they don't think we're gonna fight, so one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off. So just shoot one of them." His reasoning made sense. I looked outside.

"Which one?"

"Um, Derek, preferably in the head."

"Stiles, if Scott can catch an arrow, Derek definitely can."

"Okay, ah, just shoot one of the other three."

"You mean two?"

"I mean three." Quickly he moved the curtains aside and looked outside to check on the pack. "Where's Isaac?" Without being able to think I was attacked and thrown to the ground and so was Stiles. I don't know how but Isaac found a way in.

(Y/N)'s POV

I was laying down on the bed of what I hoped was a guest room, scrolling through my phone when I heard a crash downstairs. I guess Lydia heard it too because when I looked outside the hallway, there she was. We moved slowly and carefully. After, I started to hear snarling and crashing.

"What's happening?" Lydia cried and I half hugged her as reassurance.

"Get back. Someone's trying to break in, okay? Go." Allison appeared from around the corner.

"I can help," I said.

"Stay." We didn't move. "Guys, go!" We both ran back to the room she was with Jackson and closed the door. Yet, Jackson was nowhere in sight.

"Jackson?!" Lydia screamed and we made our way to the bathroom locking the door.

"Who are you calling?" I asked Lydia as she took out her phone.

"Hi, I-I need the police. Th-there's someone trying to break in." She turned off the light and I heard the door outside slam.

"Stiles! It's here!" Allison screamed. What the hell was IT? Then the door crashed down. Lydia started squirming so I engulfed her in a hug and tried my best to calm her nerves.

"We're gonna be alright." But honestly, I was just as scared. Once silence was the only thing surrounding us, I checked the room. "Okay, I think it's gone. We'll go out slowly."

She nodded and followed me out of the bathroom and later out of the room. We made our way calmly down the hallway and the stairs. That's when I heard the worst screech ever and it was not human. We both ran outside to see what had made such an awful sound and were met by Derek, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Scott, Stiles, and Allison. What the hell were they all doing here, and why were Erica and Isaac limp on the floor?

"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"

"It's Jackson," Scott said. What could that possibly mean?

After everyone had calmed down, Stiles took us back to the school to look for our abandoned cars. As I made my way to my bike, Allison stopped me. Claiming that she was too worried about my safety. Not having the energy to fight, I obliged and got into her car alongside Lydia, who was still a bit shaken from the events.

"I need you to promise that you both won't say anything about what just happened." Allison staged the statement as a request but it was clearly a command.

"I promise not to say anything about what just happened if you could tell me what the HELL just happened," Lydia said, exasperated.

"I'm with Lydia on that one."

"It's kinda complicated." Allison sighed.

"How about you start with why Derek was there?" I spoke. "And Isaac and all of those kids from school?"

"Or where Jackson went or what is wrong with Erica?" She looked down. "Need to come up with a possible lie?"

"Part of the reason I am asking is because Scott and I aren't supposed to be seeing each other, okay?" Seriously? That's your excuse "So it's better if you just keep what you know to yourselves."

"Fine. I'll keep what I know about you and your boyfriend, which is nothing, to myself." Lydia started to get out, but Allison held her back.

"Hey, he's not just my boyfriend, you get that right?"

"Let me go." The strawberry blonde spat.

"Just for one second, please try and remember. "

"Remember what?!" Lydia turned.

"Remember what it feels like. All those times in school when you see him standing in the hall and you cannot breathe until you're with him or those times in class when you can't stop looking at the clock because you know that he is standing right out there, waiting for you. Don't you remember what that's like?"

"No."

"What do you mean no? You've had boyfriends."

"Not like that." She closed the door and left. Allison stared at her until she had reached the door to her house before starting the car back up.

"I know you're lying. This has nothing to do with your relationship with Scott. Maybe like five percent but when you look at the whole picture it's not. So, why don't you actually tell me the truth or I swear I will get out of this car."

"We're moving."

"Doesn't mean I won't jump out."

"What do you want me to say?!"

"The truth. Just tell me why the hell everyone has been acting so weird?"

"You're one to talk." She scoffed.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You! Ever since you've arrived you have pushed everyone away, even though all they have been is nice to you. You're alienating yourself for no reason."

"No reason?! How about the fact that I don't want to grow attached to anyone because I know that once the year ends, I'm gone? It has been like that for almost ten fucking years. Allison, you have only had to move about three times in your life, maybe four. I have been moving every single year since I was eight years old. Don't you think that it doesn't hurt to leave behind people you have grown to love and won't see again, possibly forever?"

"I didn't think..." she sighed.

"Exactly, you didn't think because you don't understand. The last time I grew close to someone, I had to say goodbye and you know what happened?" She shook her head no. "She was bullied into attempting suicide. I did that."

"Are you talking about Josie?" I nodded, roughly wiping away the tears that had spilled. "That wasn't your fault. It was tragic but there was nothing you could have done. You didn't do it."

"I did. She was alone because I left, and I couldn't protect her. She won't even answer my messages. Now, I don't associate myself with people so I don't have to care about what happens to them. That way it doesn't hurt once I leave."

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N), I didn't know you felt that way. But don't push me away. I will always be a constant in your life. I'm your cousin, I will always be with you." She hugged me and wiped away any other tears left. "I love you but get out."

"Dude, you just ruined the moment."

"No, I mean we're at your house and I have to get home. I love you." She smiled and I got out of the car. Before I could say anything else, she sped off. She knew there was a conversation still lingering and she was trying to avoid it. I just hoped I didn't have to explain myself to anyone else.

I entered the empty house, making sure all the doors were locked, and made my way up the stairs. Opening my bedroom door, Brody jumped off my bed and onto me, slathering my face with kisses.

"Hey, buddy. I missed you too," I laughed. Being near him instantly calmed me and helped me feel more at ease after the night I had.

I changed into my pajamas, too tired to shower, and cuddled with Brody on my bed. Talking about my past always made me tense. I tried my best to stray away from the topic and reveal as little as possible as I could, but it always found a way to be uncovered. As hard as I tried it was the dark cloud that would always follow me around. All I could do was avoid the whole thing as much as I could and hope they didn't bring it up again.

With Brody's warmth next to me, I quickly nodded off to sleep and melted the stress of the day.

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Regained Passion -Harry Hook x reader - part 1 - The dance studio

=

-canon deviant, after D2; Ben invites more vks over, including Harry and Gil-

Harry huffed in frustration as he forced himself to walk to the dance studio building, FG had made the newest set of VKs go to counselors and his had decided he needed something to burn off his energy, but it couldn’t be sword fighting or tourney as it ‘amplified his violent tendencies’ and he needed ‘a calm environment that tempered him’

“Dumb counselor, dumb FG, dumb dance class” he muttered to himself, shrugging the duffel back on his shoulder to sit correctly as it slid from its spot slightly. The studio was just off campus, being connected to a huge auditorium that had a large stage for their dancers to…well dance.

He stopped in front of the building, grimacing up at the sign that hung off the front of the building “Esmerelda's dance hall” he read, sighing he looked back down at his clothes.

Evie had signed herself up to make some new clothes for him to dance in, and at the moment he was in a flowy white t-shirt, slightly baggy black sweatpants, and wearing his new converse. (he had a feeling he would have to change out of them though) “Let's get this over with” he muttered, walking up the steps and into the building.

He stepped through the doors and looked around, to the left was a reception desk, at least that’s what it looked like, and to the right was a café looking room, with vending machines and a mini kitchen. “Hello! Welcome to Esmerelda's dance hall! Are you a new student?” Harry turned back to look at the desk, now a middle-aged blonde woman sat in the chair behind it, a kind smile on her face.

“I guess” Harry muttered, walking up to the desk and handing her the paper the consular had given him to give to ‘Ms. Smith’ and the woman behind the desks nameplate read ‘Mira Smith’ so he guessed she was the person who he had to give the paper too. “I was told ta give this ta yeh” Mira nodded and took the paper, humming to herself and typing on her computer.

“Yep, got you right here, Harry Hook. You’ll be starting out in the beginners class for teens since we assumed you had no prior dance experience” Harry quirked his brow. He had dance experience just…not the type they did in this school probably. “The school is paying for your classes so you won't have to worry about any payments, follow me!” Mira stood and walked out from behind the desk, leading Harry down the long hallway of doors, each having a number and letter on the wood.

“Your classes, for now, will take place in D-A, with Mr. Bert. Hes our beginner teacher, all our students love him, they say he makes everything very fun and entertaining” Harry didn’t respond, looking at the walls and through the small windows to the rooms. “Well, here you are! Have fun Harry” Mira opened the door and gestured inside, where a good group of teens his age stood, all getting ready for the class. Some were stretching while others just talked to their friends.

Harry stepped through the door, pressing his lips together as some of the teens turned to look at him, brows raising bit. He could recognize some of them from Auradon prep. Harry held down a flinch as a hand clamped on his shoulder “You must be Harry, eh?!” Harry turned to look, seeing a kind-looking man with black hair and blue eyes, a smile on his face.

Harry wasn’t one to trust someone as soon as he saw them but this man just had odd energy that Harry felt like he could trust. Harry felt himself relax and nodded to the man, who held out his hand to Harry. “I’m Bert!” Bert had an odd Boston accent, which again, made Harry feel oddly safe. Harry shook his hand, yelping quietly as Burt pulled him into the group of teens “Now, grab a pair of those black ballet shoes, don’t worry they’re new and ya get ta keep ‘em, and get em all tied up on ya’, and the same ta’ the rest of ya’! get all ready and stretch!” Bert released Harry's hand and walked around the room, helping some of the younger teens stretch and put their shoes on.

Harry looked for his size in the shoes and found one pair left ‘how convenient’ he thought, grabbing the pair and moving over to the wall that had only one other teen sitting against it. He took off his bag and slid down the wall, taking off his converse and replacing it with the ballet shoes.

As Harry got his shoes changed, Bert announced to the new students that had also joined that day; that beginner classes were only an hour-long, and there was no lesson plan, for now, it was learning basics and just having fun with dance. He also said he would teach them to dance along to a song called ‘step in time’. But first, stretching.

Harry mindlessly followed along with the instruction; Harry didn’t want to be here in the first place so he didn’t really feel like trying. “uh, Harry?” Harry looked up, seeing Bert staring wide-eyed at him “have ya ever had any previous dance experience? Gymnastics even?” Harry shook his head, not knowing why Bert was asking “You’re about a half-foot away from a full side split” Harry looked down, raising his brows in slight shock.

It was true, Harry's legs were almost horizontal from his hips “well would yeh look at tha’” Harry muttered, leaning forward a bit, hearing some of the girls of the class gasp in slight jealously.

“How the heck is he doing that! I've been doing gymnastics since I was two and I can't even do that!” a black girl with Bantu knots whispered to her friend, who started starry-eyed at Harry.

“I know… it’s kinda hot” the friend whispered back, laughing slightly as the first girl gently tugged at her hair “I’m sorry it is!” the first girl smirked and smacked the second's thigh.

“You are such a simp” she chortled turning her attention back to Bert and Harry, to which Bert was testing Harry's flexibility, to Harry's slight embarrassment.

“Do you feel any pain like that?” Harry looked down at his almost full side spit and shook his head, he didn’t even realize he had done it. “Could you try to do a full one?” Harry stared at Bert for a moment then shrugged, spreading his legs further and now sitting in a full side split “Well butter my britches” Bert laughed, rubbing his head “and they told me ya were a full on beginner!”

Harry sniffed and moved his legs back into a normal position, now sitting cross-legged as Bert patted his head and went back to stand in the front of the group, clapping his hands to gain his attention “Alright! Now let's start with the basics!”

-

If Harry had been taking the class willingly? He would have enjoyed it wholeheartedly because Mira was right; Bert did make the class very fun. But due to Harry being forced to take the class, he had hated every second. Bert had seemed to realize Harry wasn’t into it and left harry alone most of the time, but he still checked on him during the hour of class.

“Remember to grab the schedule on your way out! Class is same time same place tomorrow! Have a good day!” Harry finished tying up his shoes and stood, shuffling his new dance shoes into his bag, and made his way out of the class, giving a halfhearted finger wave to Bert as he walked out.

He walked behind his class, not wanting to mingle with any of them. He stopped, looking to his right as he noticed an open door. He blinked in slight surprise, inside was a whole group, much more experienced than his class, practicing what seemed to be ballet, the girls wearing shoes that allowed them to stand on their toes.

His eyes locked onto a particular girl, wearing a light blue leotard and an even lighter blue sheer skirt that almost looked silver.  Her skirt flared as she performed a set of spins, her head almost sticking to one spot as she did.

Harry had never seen ballet before, at least in person, so he stood slightly mesmerized as she danced, she stopped her spin and moved gradually on her toes, moving about the room in a way that Harry could only describe as ‘flowing water’. The girl turned once more, bright (e/c) eyes locking with his.

Harry felt his breath hitch as a sudden rush of butterflies erupted in his gut, flying about his body and filling his mind. ‘wha-‘ Harry mentally stuttered, taking a step back from the class as he felt his face heat up. The girl still had her eyes on him, but they were filled with slight confusion and interest. ‘I-I I have to go’ Harry turned and ran for the exit, not noticing the girl's classmates walk over to the door and look after him, some of them giggling to themselves.

-

“Oh he’s pretty!” “Think he’s a new student?”

“Oh def, did you see his outfit!? Besides, I heard that Mr. Bert got a new student today from Auradon prep, I think that was him”

“(y/n), do you recognize him?” Anita Beaucop turned to you from the door, she wasn’t from Auradon prep so she couldn’t have known who Harry was.

“Yes,” you mumbled, resting against one of the beams against the wall. “Harry Hook, one of the new villain kids, Chad calls him a filthy pirate” Anita rolled her eyes and sauntered over to you, grabbing a water bottle from her bag and cracking it open.

“Well,” Anita huffed, her French accent strong as usual “your brother is an asshole, both of us know not to trust him, if Chad doesn’t like Harry, then you should make friends, piss him off and all that” you giggled at that, covering your mouth as Emma, another one of your class friends who didn’t go to Auradon prep, leaned into your space, her eyes drifting back toward the door.

“Do you know If Harry's single?” she purred, her smirk dropping as you shrugged.

“I don’t know, he hangs around Uma a lot, and from what I see he seems really into her” Emma pouted, and crossed her arms.

“I got no shot with that hunk then, Uma’s hot as fuck.” the entire room agreed, including Javis and Saki in the corner of the room, who were both very much into men. “See, even Javis agrees!”

“Just because I don’t like anything on the menu doesn’t mean I can’t apricate it” Javis snorted, downing a granola bar as he did a small stretch session. You snorted and rolled your eyes, fixing your skirt and getting back into the starting position as Esmerelda looked back up from her cd player.

“Okay! Let's run it from the top again! Last round ladies! Then we can all go home and relax” As the gentle music began to play and you started to dance, you couldn’t help but think about the striking ocean blue eyes that sent a spark through your soul.

-end of part 1-

Part one of a new series, not gonna be a long one, maybe 5 parts at least-most…dunno which it's gonna be but, yeah! If you couldn’t guess, (y/n) is Chad's sister (fraternal twin but since its x reader you look like you and not automatically a female version of Chad) and isn’t like him, takes more after her mom n stuff. And yeah we got some simps in (y/n)s class lol.

Hope you enjoyed and will enjoy the next parts (to which I have no clue where this fic is actually gonna go I had a beginning and ending part to it and that was all lol, so lets see how this turns out)

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[insomniacinserts]

The confessor AU

Words - 4711 🥰🤤

AU - Father Clemens(c slater) is a professor at a religious school. Y/n is 18

A/N - I really pooped my blood, sweat and tears into this one. You kids are gonna eat well tonight 😘 sorry if it says michael Vincent anywhere it’s the name I used for y/n cause I wrote part of it in class. I’ll put a cut in it when I get to my pc I can’t open tumblr on my school computer

———————————————————————

“Mr. Y/N L/N.” Father Ortega stopped suddenly that I had bumped into him. He turned sharply and glared evilly before straightening out his attire and folding his hands neatly in front of him “I suggest you straighten yourself out before you step into your administrator's office. Father Clemens will decide a punishment fit for your sin.” I took a deep breath, I was pretty calm, way more so than I should be considering my situation. But Father Clemens was a pretty understanding holy figure, it’s what made him the most popular of the staff for confessions and counseling, so I had a pretty good feeling that Father Clemens would understand and not be too cruel.

“Y/N L/N, good to see you son. step in and have a seat.” Father Ortega nodded to Father Clemens then turned to leave and shut the door, once the lock clicked behind Father Ortega the room had fallen into an increasingly awkward silence, and the sheer embarrassment of my current situation snuck up on me and slapped me right in the face, the embarrassing shame had prompted a certain uneasy restlessness to settle in my limbs, I couldn't help but to slide down in my seat or keep my leg from bouncing rapidly and my fingers from picking at seemingly nothing on my hand “what is the problem that brought you in here today, Y/N?” Once Father Clemens had finished his paperwork he ended the uneasy silence that Father Ortega had left behind him. He sat with his hands folded sternly in front of him, he had tried to meet my gaze but quit when I continued to avoid him.

“If I am correct Father. Father Ortega had sent you an email before escorting me down here.”

Father Clemens sucked in a deep breath and unfolded his hands to look something up on his laptop “you are correct, Y/N” he turned away from his laptop to look back at me “but I want to hear it from you.” Father Clemens leaned back in his chair and ran his palms on his pants then he stood and made his way around his desk and stood behind the chair. I sat in “sit in your chair the correct way Y/N.” his hands came around the chair to grip my biceps firmly and followed stiffly pulling me up in the chair “back straight.” his hands ran up from my biceps and stopped on my shoulders to straighten out my back on the chair. “If you think I'm going to go easy on you and let you off with a slap on the wrist, you're wrong Y/N L/N.” he made his way to the side of the chair and sat in the one next to mine “do you understand that lust is a big thing? It's not something the board wants to be treated lightly.” I nod and look down at my hands in my lap, Father Clemens’s warm hand came up to grip my jaw and turned my face to him “I'm messing with you, kiddo. Loosen up, ok?” Father Clemens chuckled and sat back in his chair with his arms settled neatly on the armrests.

“In my opinion, kid. The bord and the teachers here are all way too uptight. You're a teenage boy, you're going to get those urges, you've got mass amounts of testosterone flowing through you. I couldn't help myself when I was younger.” I tried to bite back the flush on my cheeks at the thought of teenage Father Clemens touching himself so intimately but I was unsuccessful, the warmth of blood rushed through my cheeks coloring them a light pink then to a darker red when I glanced over at Father Clemens to see him staring straight at me with a smirk on his face. “A man thinking of another man in such a way as you are now is also a sin, young Y/N L/N.” Father Clemens shifted his chair closer to me then leaned forward bracing his elbows onto his knees “but you would know that already. Correct?” a sharp chill ran up my spine and the hairs on my neck stood. Father Clemens was not only the senior’s head administrator but he was the school's psyche counselor, and if I were to say he was a bad counselor I would be punished for untruthful accusations.

Even then, the way the school is run is purely based on academic achievements. So if Father Clemens was a bad counselor and it was reported by multiple students or student's legal guardians they would be dismissed, Due to Father Clemens’s charming academic records, his degrees, and his essays. Though when I say the complaints would be dismissed I only mean for the legal guardians, the students don't get off as lucky.

So him suggesting that I am romantically and sexually attracted to the same gender is terrifying on its own, even if what he was suggesting was wrong. “Anyway.” Father Clemens’ voice was like a gunshot, even louder accompanied by the loud clap he made when he stood up. It all made me jump and Father Clemens’s chuckle did nothing for my rapidly beating heart “relax kiddo. I didn't mean to scare you like that.” Father Clemens had stopped making his way back to his chair behind his desk and stood calmly behind my chair. “There's nothing wrong with thinking of sleeping with a man when you're alone, son.” His big warm hands settled to rub small sharp circles into my shoulders massaging out the tense knots “the church board and the school aren't very good at getting with the program.” his hands took to rubbing softly on my shoulders very melodically back and forth as if he were trying to calm me down. His hands stilled and he leaned down to whisper in my ear “you don't gotta worry about that kiddo. Ok?” he paused to watch me nod, his hands came up to my collarbone and ran his thumb over the nape of my neck “I’ll take care of you, kiddo. They won't bother you because of who you are.”

Father Clemens backed away from my chair suddenly and walked around to sit in his chair behind his desk. “You finished with your classes?” he turned to his laptop and began to type “no, um it should be around lunchtime now. Someone told Father Ortega that I was committing a sin and he came to get me to take me down here.” Father Clemens stopped typing and looked at me over his laptop “someone told him? He didn't catch you in the act?” Father Clemens’ stern gaze shot straight down my spine and sent me to a full-body shiver “no. he didn’t Father.” Father Clemens took a deep breath then closed his laptop to set it off to the side “who told him? Were they telling the truth?” Father Clemens leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands back nicely in his lap “it was one of the nuns students. She had begun propositioning me for a relationship and something more, back around October so a few months, and considering the circumstances every time she propositioned me I had respectfully declined.” Father Clemens pursed his lips and nodded rocking slightly in his chair.

“What was so different this time? Why did she lie about something like that?” I slid back down in the chair but quickly sat back up and corrected my posture after Father Clemens gave me a disapproving look “I had told her that if she kept propositioning me like that I would tell her administrator about her inappropriate behavior but she took it a lot worse than I thought and after she told Father Ortega she went around telling her classmates and my classmates as well as my friends that I was gay.” Father Clemens sighed and let his head fall forward slightly “have you eaten, son?” Father Clemens reached under his desk and brought out a bag that he stuffed his laptop in and set ti back down onto the floor “no, I have not Father” Father Clemens nodded and stood from his seat “I’m going to take you down to the detention hall and have you sit in there for a few of your lectures while I speak to Sister Mary. Father Young will get you lunch. What was the girl's name?” I shook my head and looked down at my lap “I'm not going to tell you.”

Father Clemens signed “are your peers saying anything to you?” I blinked rapidly to stop tears from coming and I pinched the inside of my hand “Mr. Y/N L/N. You look at me when I talk to you and you answer when you are asked a question.” Father Clemens' voice had lowered and out of the corner of my eye I could see his shined shoes move around his desk and stop to the side of me “look at me, son.” I shook my head and kept my eyes on the ground. “Son. I need to know these things.” his big hand had found its way under my chin and he gently lifted my face to him “are your teachers saying anything.” I averted my eyes and looked at the front of his button-down; it was in pristine shape, it was ironed, cleaned, it didn't have lint or hair on it and pretty soon I found myself wondering what human could keep something that clean “what are they saying, Y/N L/N.” Father Clemens’ voice was sharp and stern and it cut me from my daydream, but before I could say anything there was a soft knock on the door.

Father Clemens pulled back and straightened himself out before going over and opening the door “hello dear Grace Butler. I'm with a student at this moment but I'll have you sit in one of those chairs over there.” my blood ran cold at the mention of her name and my hands gripped the armrests “is the student in there Y/N L/N?” her voice made bile rise in my throat and the hair on the back of my neck stand “did you need something with him?” I could hear the cogs in Father Clemens' head-turning and figuring out what she was doing here “yes actually. It's very important and you two have been in there for an hour and a half, I’ve been waiting for him out here. It will only take a second and then you can get back to whatever you're doing.” I turned around to look out the door and see Grace standing there with her hands folded in front of her and an innocent smile on her face that turned to a sinister one when she caught my gaze and at that moment I could tell that Father Clemens had figured it out.

Father Clemens stood to the side and motioned for her to come in “it shouldn't be too important to not talk about it in front of me Ms. Grace Butler.” her smile faltered a little but she shook it off and stepped into Father Clemens office. She unfolded her hands and sat down beside me. I tried my hardest to scoot away from her but I couldn't go any further than the chair allowed. I heard Father Clemens shut the door, I didn't want to look behind me in case grace would try something but when Father Clemens passed me going back to his desk he gave a soft squeeze to my bicep. “Now. don’t let me bother you, kay?” Father Clemens picked his bag up from the floor and pulled out his laptop “I’m going to do some work, and when your done Ms. Grace if you would let yourself out Mr. Y/N L/N and I are still in the middle of a conversation so don’t beat around the bush, keep things to the point.” Father Clemens looked pointedly at me before opening up his laptop and getting to work.

“Y/N I have something very important to tell you.” grace began to fiddle with the ends of her blouse, I looked over and caught Father Clemens suspicious gaze “I’ve gotten expelled.” my brows shot up to my hairline and I snapped my head over to look at Father Clemens who in turn looked back at me with the same amount of confusion and surprise written on his face that I’m feeling “and why would you get expelled, Ms. Grace?” grace, still facing me, rolls her eyes at Father Clemens before putting on a sad innocent look and looking over at Father Clemens “they found out I was pregnant. I haven’t told them who the father was,” grace looks at me and scoots closer “because I didn’t want you to get expelled, Y/N.” I flinch at the obvious lie “alright, thank you very much for your time, Ms. Grace. Please see yourself out now. Mr. Y/N L/N and I have business that needs to be discussed. You, dear lady shout be with your headmistress.” grace holds eye contact and the smug look returns to her face before dropping when she gets up to leave the room “ill send Sister Mary to fetch you.” grace nods and leaves the room with a bounce in her step.

“Father- I- let me explain. Please.” Father Clemens holds his hand out to stop me from talking further “kiddo.” he locks his eyes with mine “I have a bachelor’s in psychology. Even then it doesn’t take a bachelor’s degree to see she’s lying. Your a good student, and a very good boy. even The head would doubt you’d do anything of the sort.” the light praise had sent a shiver down my spine that I prayed Father Clemens overlooked, then as suddenly as it came his soft look was replaced with a stern one “Grace Butler.” cold dread settled back into my skin I had thought we were going to move past this “Father. Please can we drop it? I can handle the things people are saying myself and you heard grace. Shes being expelled that’s one of my problems gone.” during my frustrating speech Father Clemens had walked around and sat on his desk in front of me “kiddo. This is our problem. I’m your administrator, I’m in charge of you and I care about you. I’m not going to let you handle this yourself. Your such a good kid, you focus on your classwork, and ill focus on this. Ok?” Father Clemens didn’t give me any time to answer before he picked up his office phone and dialed what I think Sister Mary’s phone number was.

I sighed and tuned out of the conversation in favor of studying a painting of what looked to be a nun in a forest at dawn or dusk on Father Clemens wall “hey. Kiddo.” I flinched and snapped my yead to Father Clemens backing my head away from his fingers snapping in front of my face “yeah? Sorry. I wasn’t listening.” Father Clemens smiled and let his hands fall to grip his desk “I asked if you lived on campus, I wanted to walk you back to your dorm.” I looked down at my watch “it’s five already? I’ve been in here the whole school day and I haven’t realized it. It felt like an hour the most.” Father Clemens chuckled and smiled amused by my current situation. He cleared his throat before standing up and going over to the coat rack by his door “do you live off-campus, son?” I rub the back of my neck “yeah actually.” I stood and walked through the door that Father Clemens opened for me “do you have a car?” he put on his jacket and slung his bag over his shoulder “no Father I don’t. Usually, I catch the bus.” Father Clemens turns away from me to lock his door “it’s too late for you to catch the bus now. I’ll drive you, kiddo.” Father Clemens turns back to me with a sincere smile and shoves his keys back into his pocket “no. Father I cant ask you to do that. It’s too far out of your way.” Father Clemens puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me further away from the way I came earlier and down a smaller hall to a door that led out to the staff parking lot

“I’m not letting you walk in this weather, not with that light hoodie. You’ll catch a cold then I won’t be able to see your pretty face tomorrow during the sermon.” my face flushes but it’s not because of the wether, Father Clemens hand had started to rub small circles into the small of my back as he was leading me to his car. “If it’s out of my way. Invite me in for a drink.” we get to his car and he opens the door for me “all I have is coffee Father.” Father Clemens gives me a look that he knows I’m a teenager and that I’m lying “you’d be watching me sin father.” the statement sounded a lot dirtier out loud than it did in my head and it seemed to sound dirty to Father Clemens because he chuckles and shakes his head before straightening out and leaning closer to my face “son. You’d be surprised how many sins id watch you commit.” my breath catches in my throat and my cheeks turn a darker red “get in the car. Son.” Father Clemens’s voice had taken on a darker tone and turned rough like he was thinking about me doing what he was mentioning. Suddenly I remember something that Father Clemens said earlier and a graphic image of Father Clemens touching himself flashed through my mind but instead of his face and body being younger it was how he looked now.

I nod and hastily get in the car, I go to buckle the seatbelt but Father Clemens stops me by leaning down into the car and grabbing my wrist “looks like you’ve got a problem there, son.” Father Clemens splayed one of his hands out on my thigh, the simple action, forcing me to be painfully aware of my hard cock straining against my jeans “sorry Father.” Father Clemens finished buckling the seatbelt and got into the car on the drivers’ side “as I said earlier, kiddo. A man thinking of another man in such a way is a great sin. If you don’t confess, ill have to deal with you as your administrator.” the current reality of what was happening sent chills down my spine and more blood down to my cock. “You won’t have to punish me, Father. I’ll confess.” I put on my best innocent pupil voice “even with your confession ill still have to deal with you as your administrator. We weren’t off the school grounds when you sinned.” I ran my hands up and down my thighs trying to keep them busy to avoid touching myself “what are you wanting to do kid?” Father Clemens’s tone changed and he got more serious, my cock was hard and straining the fabric of my jeans painfully “it hurts father.” his car slows to a stop in front of my apartment building let’s go inside kiddoI’llll deal with you where no one can see you. I want everything I’m about to see to be reserved for only me. I want to be the only man to see your cock hard like that and your nipples so purt and pretty.” I had to bite back a gasp when Father Clemens finger came up to circle my nipple “I want to be the only one to hear the pretty noises you make.” he leans over the center console to lick and nip over my addams apple, the action sending a jolt to my cock making it twitch and a breathy noise come out of my mouth “I want to be the only one to feel how tight you wrap around my cock and how pretty your face looks when you get my dick down your throat.” his hand falls from my nipple to run his palm lightly and playfully over my bulge “I want to be the only one to see you cum.” his palm ground down harder on my cock and forced a guttural moan out of the back of my throat.

Father Clemens growls in my ear and takes his hand from my pants “get inside boy.” the Fathers voice was rough and his pupils were blown wide “yes Father.” he unbuckled both of our seatbelts and waited for me to move around the car on the sidewalk “just call me daniel, son.” once on the sidewalk I pause to fish the keys from my pocket and flip through them to get the apartments front door key “you got it kiddo?” Father Clemens comes up behind me and settles his hand on the small of my back “yeah.” he nudges me forward and stays beside me with his hand on my back the whole way to the elevator.

“Comere kiddo.” Fathe Clemens voice was rough and he tugged me forward by my belt loops once the elevator doors closed “you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” his voice got quieter with each word as his face lowered to mark hickies on my neck “tell me how long Father.” Father Clemens huffs against my neck and pulls back when the elevator dings, I wait for an answer but his hand finds its way to my back and he playfully pushes me forward “I thought I told you to drop the Father.” I smile and walk toward the end of the hall to my apartment door “you still have your collar on Father, I wouldn’t want to disrespect a man of God.” I playfully sway my hips in front of him and open the door, but before I could fully get in Father Clemens takes me by the scruff of my hoodie and swiftly moves both of us into my apartment, I don’t get a chance to flip on the lights before Father Clemens body is pinning my body against the door “stay.” he nips playfully at my earlobe and slowly backs away giving me room to turn around.

Father Clemens has his jacket off and tossed to the side and he’s taking his collar off with a hungry look, once-off he tosses his things to the side and pins my body back against the door, but this time instead of his clothed cock against the curve of my ass he’s pushing his hips into mine “no more father.” he presses a cheeky kiss to my lips and reaches between us to unbutton the first few buttons on his white shirt “fine. Would sir be better?” a smug smirk makes its way on my face when his breath catches in his throat and I take the short moment of surprise to flip us around, this time pressing his back against the door “your gonna kill me kid.” his voice sounded even more wrecked, I shake my head with a small smile on my face and lock eyes with him “actually I’m going to suck your dick first. Sir.” I draw the word out and slowly sink to my knees keeping eye contact.

“Kid-” his voice shakes and he fists a hand in my hair and tugs gently “what’s wrong sir?” he moans and bucks his hips, his clothed bulge nearly comes in contact with my chin but I settle my hand on his him and mouth hotly at his bulge “god that’s good kiddo.” he tugs my head back with his grip in my hair and undoes his belt “common kiddo lemme see your pretty lips wrapped around my dick.” I nod swiftly and shakily undo his pants so I can free his cock from his boxers. when it’s free I thank god that I got on my knees cause his cock looked so good; it was flushed at the tip, not small at all, and on top of that his cock was thick so thick my own twitched in my pants and I couldn’t help grinding the heel of my palm onto it “sir, I don’t think its gonna fit.” I hear a dull thud and look up to see he’s let his head fall back against the door “kiddo if you keep talking like that you’re not going to get a taste before I cum” Father Clemens foot nudged my hand away from my dick and took its place pressing down teasingly “I’m gonna put it in my mouth now Father.” Father Clemens’s foot pulled away from my cock “what did I say about calling me faAH” Father Clemens couldn’t finish his sentence before his cock was in my mouth, I tried taking all of his cock in my throat but gaged “oh, fuck kiddo. It feels so good when you gag around me like that.” I hummed and tried again, this time breathing through my nose. I took him a little further than before but still gagged “god. Common kiddo you can take it.” Father Clemens hands fisted in my hair and mine came up to wrap around what part of his cock I couldn’t fit in my mouth “let me fuck your face kid. Please.” I took a deep ragged breath in through my nose and let my hands fall to Father Clemens’ thighs. I looked up through my lashes when I heard a soft sigh, he was looking down at me with a look on his face that I didn’t recognize, and as if he could sense I was distracted he delivered a particularly deep thrust,

When he pulled back I could feel spit dribble down my chin “I wish you could see yourself son, god, you’re so beautiful.” Father Clemens started with a slow and deep pace lightly scratching his fingertips on my scalp “taking my cock so well baby. So good.” he pets the side of my jaw with his thumb then pushes my head down on his cock slowly until my nose was buried in his pubes “that’s it sweetheart. Breathe in through your nose. I wanna see how well your ass takes my cock.” with that he lets me pull off, I couldn’t help taking deep gulps of air and fuck I could already tell how wrecked my voice would be. “Get up son, let’s go to your room.”

#the confessor #the confession #christian slater #Father Clemens x male reader #Christian slater x male reader

[averykedavra]

Push My Luck

What’s this? Me posting a prompt pic on the same day as the prompt? Inconceivable! But analogince is The Best Ever, so I managed to do it! It’s enemies to lovers Ultimate, guys. You’re missing out.

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! Title from Don’t You Go by All Time Low. You can find this fic on Ao3 here!)

Prompt: Pick your favorite Soulmate AU and write about it! I picked an AU where you receive a black mark where your soulmate first touches you, that turns colorful when they do.

Pairing: Platonic Analogince

Words: 6561

Warnings: death mention, swearing, arguing, insecurity, a very brief fight scene with one (1) punch, crying, a bit of anxiety

Virgil, as a rule, doesn’t take risks.

The world is a big scary place. Lots of ways to get kidnapped or mugged or threatened just by leaving the house. So he tends to do the bare minimum. He doesn’t speak up in class. He doesn’t talk to other kids. He doesn’t mention his soulmates or the fact that he hasn’t met them yet. When the guidance counselor asks him for the seventh time what his career goals are, he just shrugs.

Life is easier if he keeps stuff close to his chest. If he stays out of everyone’s way. If he gives people less of a reason to hurt him. Life is smoother if he hides and life is calmer if he’s quiet.

Life is safer if he lives and lets live.

And today he broke that rule, so is it any surprise that everything went to shit?

He didn’t even mean to. He’d heard the yelling and looked closer, just out of curiosity, and to know if he should start running. It wasn’t anything big. Logan and Roman were arguing in one corner of the hallway. They’d been giving each other dirty looks all through class, so it was no surprise. Virgil didn’t know what their problem was, but whatever. Not a big deal.

Then it actually sank in.

Roman and Logan were fighting.

Roman and Logan.

Roman? Yeah, sure. He wasn’t a great student, and sometimes he got a little passionate about stuff. Or a lot too passionate. He looked angrier than Virgil had really seen him, his hands flying around and his eyes narrowed, but still, it seemed pretty normal.

Logan, on the other hand--Logan was an honor roll student. Top of the class, probably gonna be valedictorian and go to Harvard and take over the world someday. He wasn’t the worst ever, but he was definitely stuck up, and he followed the rules like his life depended on it. Virgil had barely seen him raise his voice before.

And he was yelling.

Virgil couldn’t even make out the words, but he recognized several swears. Logan was ranting and his hands were balled by his sides and he was ignoring all the people staring at them. He looked like a bowstring, drawn taut and ready to fire.

What the hell had Roman said?

Virgil had inched closer, keeping several people between him and the argument. But he’s fucking short, a fact that perpetually annoys him, so he was forced to find an open spot pretty close to Logan and Roman.

They were inches from each other, face red. Virgil’s heart pounded in his ears as Roman’s voice pitched up. Fuck. He shouldn’t have come here--arguing was no fun to watch, and his breathing was already growing strained. Ugh, couldn’t they just stop? Logan was supposed to be responsible, right? And there should be teachers around.

Virgil tried to muscle his way back through the crowd, but nobody let him pass. Everyone was too focused on watching Logan and Roman tear each other apart.

He really hates this school sometimes.

So Virgil was stuck there, tapping on his leg and trying not to panic, hoping against hope that they’d shut up--Logan had called Roman a nasty name and Roman had fired back with something Virgil didn’t fully catch, but it sounded like a threat--Logan had tensed--

And Virgil knew.

In that moment, seconds before it all went to shit, he knew. He saw Logan draw tight, a bowstring, and he knew in an instant that this was gonna blow in Roman’s face.

Admittedly, though, he didn’t expect what actually happened.

He didn’t expect Logan to step forward and punch Roman.

In the shoulder. His fist hit Roman square in the fucking shoulder, and Roman stumbled back. It looked like it hurt. It sounded like it hurt, a dull thump that echoed through Virgil’s bones.

Suddenly, the entire hallway was silent.

Roman bent over and rubbed at his shoulder, grimacing. Logan just stood there, hand pulled to his chest, eyes wide.

Logan hadn’t meant to. Virgil could tell. He opened his mouth, probably to apologize, maybe to ask if Roman was okay--

“The hell?” Roman yelled, straightening. “Why the fuck did you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

Great. Goddammit, Roman, couldn’t you have shut your big mouth for two seconds?

To Logan’s credit, he didn’t immediately fire back. But the apologetic look on his face did harden. “I didn’t--”

“Fuck, that hurts, ow.” Roman gave his shoulder a final wounded glance, like he was mad at it for betraying him. “Christ. Specs, you’re an asshole.”

“I didn’t mean to--”

“You fucking hit me!” Roman yelled. And there it was. There was what Virgil was afraid of--the moment Roman snapped, stepping forward and raising a hand.

Virgil doesn’t remember his thought process. It was probably something like fuck fuck fuck.

But one part of him must have been like fuck no. Fuck no, they were not gonna have a fistfight with Virgil trapped watching them.

Without thinking, Virgil dove between them. He grabbed Roman’s wrist. He pressed a hand to Logan’s chest. And he yelled “Fucking stop, jeez, will you quit it?”

Silence so terrible it almost ripped Virgil open.

Both Logan and Roman were staring at him. Strangers. Strangers he’d barely talked to in his life. Who he’d just ran in the middle of, and what if they yelled at him, what if he got hurt or got in trouble, and the whole fucking hallway was watching, what was Virgil thinking--

Roman didn’t pull his hand away. Logan didn’t move. It was like Virgil had frozen everyone in place.

“Stop,” Virgil repeated, his voice shaky, “or I swear I’ll pull the fucking fire alarm to get you guys to shut up.”

His skin was tingling. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t unglue his feet from the ground. Eyes bore into him and Roman and Logan were still silent.

Roman whipped his hand away first. He cradled his wrist to his chest as if he’d been burnt. Logan just stepped away and left Virgil with one hand extended in open air.

The silence stretched on again.

Virgil felt, suddenly, that he’d fucked up. Deeply and fully. He felt--wrong. No, not wrong. But different, like he’d been skewed off his axis, like something was fundamentally off.

Logan was dead silent. Roman was staring at his wrist. He looked from it back to Virgil, and Virgil caught a flash of purple.

Oh, shit, had he hurt Roman? Good fucking job, Virgil, deescalation by further violence.

“Sorry,” Virgil stammered out. “Um, is your wrist okay?”

Roman just stared at him like he’d sprouted two heads.

Virgil glanced at Logan. Logan was also looking at Virgil, but more like Virgil had been diagnosed with a terrible contagious disease.

Okay, he’d expected backlash. He hadn’t expected whatever this was.

“What?” Virgil demanded.

Roman held up his wrist. A purple smudge where Virgil’s hand had been--a bruise, fuck--

Except, no.

It was a deep, shimmering purple, ridged like Virgil’s hand had been covered in paint when it touched Roman.

Virgil looked down just to make sure his hands hadn’t been covered in paint.

What.

The.

Fuck?

One palm was covered in red ink, the other in blue. And before today, they’d been black, because that was his soulmark. He’d sworn they hadn’t changed. But here they were, practically glowing, deep colors pooling in his palms--

Where he’d touched Roman and Logan.

Fuck.

Virgil slowly looked up. Roman had pulled up his sleeve and was staring at a blue splodge on his shoulder. Logan was still cradling his hand, and now, Virgil could see red on the knuckles.

“No,” Virgil blurted out. “Fuck no.”

He didn’t even feel guilty about it. Because no. No, these couldn’t be his soulmates, he must have touched someone else--

“You’re--” Roman shook his head. “Come on. You?”

Logan just stood there, clutching his hand, looking like someone had pulled the world out from under him.

Virgil’s words had dried up in his throat.

And that was when the teachers arrived.

And to make a long lecture short, Virgil is now in detention, seated at a desk between Logan and Roman like they wanted him to keep them apart. He’d tried to say he was just trying to break up the fight, but all the spectators had mysteriously vanished when the teachers showed up, so now he’s here. Drawing circles on his desk and sneaking glances at his soulmates.

His soulmates.

It wouldn’t even be so bad if it was Logan. Logan’s a little bit uptight but he’s smart, whip-smart, the kind of smart that leaves Virgil in the dust. He’s got a firm voice and knows all sorts of words and doesn’t hesitate to raise his hand. He’s in the debate club, and Virgil went to one of their meetings for Jan’s sake--and damn. He remembers seeing Logan on fire, eyes gleaming, making up arguments on the spot and making them sound concise as if he’d practiced them for days. Logan’s a tutor--he helps other students. He works okay in groups. He’s a little socially awkward, and Virgil doesn’t think he has many friends. But neither does Virgil, so it’s fine.

It wouldn’t even be so bad if it was Roman. Roman’s a little bit dramatic but he’s passionate, fiery, so certain that everything he says is worth listening to. He loves to do voices. He talks with his hands and lets them fly around like butterflies, wiggling his shoulders and beaming like just being here is the best thing to happen in the whole entire world. He’s a theater kid. Virgil got dragged to one of those plays once. Roman’s a good actor--Virgil hates to admit it, but he didn’t realize the main character was Roman until halfway through. They didn’t even give him a new haircut or anything. Roman just...stepped into someone else’s skin.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it was one of them.

But it’s both. Red and blue, smeared on Virgil’s hands, invisible when he touches them like they’re stuck beneath his skin.

Both of them.

Logan and Roman.

Who just tried to fight each other.

Shit, why does the universe hate Virgil?

He groans and lets his hands fall to his sides. He glances at Roman, who is twirling a pen in his hands and pointedly staring at the ceiling. He glances at Logan, who is pointedly doing his homework, jaw clenched.

Virgil sits in the middle of them and has no fucking clue what to do.

The best option? Stay put. Shut up. Do what he’s always done. He’s lucky he only got detention, and he’ll still probably be grounded for this--he shouldn’t push his luck.

He runs a hand along the colors, remembering all the weeks and months and years they were pure black. He always wondered how he’d meet his soulmate. Who they’d be. How he’d manage to touch them with both palms first.

Now he’s found them.

And they fucking hate each other, and probably Virgil too.

And they’re sitting with him in silence, and the detention room is empty because the teacher left to file a report on them, and the door is locked but the windows are open and wind blows across Virgil, smelling like old leaves and asphalt and exhaust.

He should be going home. But he’s stuck here for another hour with two people who hate each other. And he’s been jammed between them, a peacemaker, a bridge.

Virgil isn’t good with peace.

But he’s not good with very much, so--why not try?

What does he have to lose, except for his afternoon and his life and his grades and his shaky reputation and the tolerance of the two people meant for him?

“So,” Virgil says slowly, and lets the word ring through the room. “We’re...soulmates?”

Roman glances at him, appears to decide it’s not worth it, and looks away. Logan just keeps scribbling on his homework assignment, but Virgil notices his pencil skids on the paper for a microscopic second.

And they fall into silence again.

Well, good job, nice try, time to give up--except fuck no. They don’t get to ignore him. Not after they got him in detention.

“Yo,” Virgil almost yells, clapping his hands. “Fucking talk to me.”

“And they say I’m the dramatic one,” Roman mutters, but he looks at Virgil, so that’s a start.

Logan, however, just groans and opens up his backpack. He pulls out some earbuds and plugs them into his phone.

“Hey, hey, no.” Virgil waves a hand at him. “Get those away from you. We’ve gotta talk about this.”

Logan mutters something that might be “Don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” But he doesn’t put in his earbuds, so that’s a start.

And Virgil takes a deep breath and he isn’t fully panicking yet. So that’s a start.

“We’re soulmates,” he says again, because maybe they haven’t fully grasped that.

“Unfortunately,” Logan agrees.

“Don’t remind me,” Roman groans, lolling back in his chair and letting his hair flop over his eyes.

“Fine, I get it, you hate me, I hate you, cry me a fucking river.” Virgil sighs. “But...like, shouldn’t we at least try? To talk about this? Soulmates are, like--a big deal?”

“The biggest of deals!” Roman declares automatically, like he’s made this speech a million times before. “Hearts and souls intertwined, chosen by fate to be each other’s companion, in love before knowing of love itself.”

Logan rolls his eyes.

“But,” Roman admits, his hand falling, “I must say that I didn’t expect--um, this.”

“Join the club,” Virgil mutters. “Well, sorry to ruin it for you.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Logan says, giving Roman a look.

Roman gasps and straightens in his chair. “How dare you! You were the one who--”

“Guys! Guys!” Virgil holds up his hands. “Please don’t kill each other, that’d be traumatizing.”

Roman gives Logan a sneer before turning away. “I suppose it would be unchivalrous to wound the bitch, not that that stopped him.”

“Chivalry is an outdated concept,” Logan snaps back, but he’s not actively trying to rip Roman a new asshole, so that’s a start.

Virgil takes another deep breath.

“So,” he says slowly. “We’re soulmates. What do we do now?”

“Preferably nothing,” Logan says. “I have homework to finish.”

“You’re doing homework in detention?” Roman shakes his head. “You’re such a nerd, it’s almost too much sometimes.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Logan asks. “Lounge about for an hour?”

“Beats me, I don’t want to be here.” Roman checks the clock and winces. “I’m missing theater practice.”

“You’re a theater kid,” Logan says, rolling his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Well, at least I have passion for something, instead of being dry as dirt--”

“Guys!” Virgil yells.

Roman huffs and Logan turns back to his homework.

Ugh.

“Guys,” Virgil repeats, “can’t you have one civil conversation?”

“He hit me!” Roman whines.

“He’s an imbecile!” Logan says at the same time.

They turn to glare at each other over Virgil’s head. Virgil’s now beginning to understand why they hate each other so much--they get on his fucking nerves.

“Then apologize,” Virgil grinds out. “Say sorry and move on so we can actually figure out what to do.”

“Apologize?” Roman repeats like Virgil’s asked him to dance the tarantella.

“Yes.” Virgil leans back and folds his arms. “Fucking do it. Now.”

Logan gives Roman a long look. “Er...how is your shoulder?”

“It hurts,” Roman says.

Logan lets out a quick breath. “Ah. Well...I am...I should not have hit you.”

“Duh, Bill Nye the Science Tie, of course you shouldn’t have.” Roman rolls his eyes. “Kinda-apology kinda-accepted, I guess.”

“Your turn,” Virgil says.

“Ugh, do I have to? I wasn’t the one who caused injury!”

Virgil gives him his best do it or I will cut you glare.

“Fine.” Roman sighs loudly. “I...Logan. Today, I made you angry. I do that quite a bit. And you retaliated with violence, like a stupid caveman.”

Logan looks about to throw his pencil at Roman’s face.

“But,” Roman says hastily, “I should not have provoked you. It was very unprincely of me to be so cruel. So...I apologize. I guess.”

“Then I forgive you,” Logan says shortly. “I guess.”

“So we’re all good,” Virgil says. “I guess?”

From the looks on Logan and Roman’s faces, things are certainly not all good.

But what the hell. It’s a start.

“Great.” Virgil spreads his hands. “Now--what the fuck do we do?”

“We’re in detention,” Logan points out. “We cannot reasonably do anything.”

“We’re in detention,” Roman agrees, sounding like this is the greatest injustice he’s ever faced. “My moms are going to be really mad.”

“Tell me about it,” Virgil groans, because he’s realizing that yeah, his parents are gonna be pissed. “I’ll be grounded for like a month, thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Roman declares. “You were the one who decided to run into the fray!”

“Yeah, to stop you two from killing each other.”

“And why did you care?” Logan asks. It’s a sharp question, sharper than Virgil knows what to do with, and Roman’s own annoyed gaze falters.

“Because--” Virgil catches himself. He doesn’t actually have an answer. Not a real one. He just...did it. “Fighting would get you guys in trouble.”

Logan looks away, and Virgil feels like he’s said something wrong.

“Well, so much for that, Hot Topic,” Roman complains. “We’re all languishing together in this penitentiary.”

Virgil smirks. “Aw, you think I’m hot?”

Roman wrinkles his nose.

“Keep it down,” Logan mutters, bent over his homework again. “I’m studying for my trig test and if I fail, it’s your fault.”

“As if,” Roman says, and Virgil catches a hint of bitterness in the words. “You’ll get an A triple-plus no matter if you study or not.”

Logan sighs wearily. “They don’t give A triple-pluses, Roman.”

“A double-plus, then!” Roman waves his hand. “I wouldn’t know, I don’t get them like you do!”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Logan blinks. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”

“I don’t know, are you being accused of cheating?”

“That doesn’t even make any sense--”

“Guys!” Virgil yells. “I am so tired of being the taskmaster here--can we focus?”

“On what?” Roman snaps. “The fact that we’re soulmates? I’d rather not!”

“Soulmates don’t mean anything,” Logan says, slamming his binder closed with a snap. “They’re useless platitudes. Virgil, we don’t have anything else to talk about, so please be quiet and let me work.”

“Useless platitudes?” Roman somehow manages to look even more offended. “Do you have any sense of romance? Whimsy? Fate?”

“Fate is a human construct,” Logan says. “And soulmates have no bearing on reality.”

“Uh, my wrist is purple right now?” Roman waves it up and down. “I didn’t dip it in grape juice, did I?”

“I’m not saying they’re not real,” Logan says, spreading his own hand with red smeared on the knuckles like blood. “I’m saying they don’t matter.”

“Of course they matter!” Roman folds his arms. “Soulmates are the epitome of human connection, they’re someone you’re fated to be with--”

“If that’s the case,” Logan interrupts, “then why am I soulmates with you?”

Roman opens his mouth and closes it again.

“And me,” Virgil adds. “I exist.”

“And Virgil,” Logan says.

Roman gives Virgil a disappointed look. “Cute, but doesn’t make up for my other soulmate punching me.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“No, you didn’t!” Roman rolls his eyes and slouches further in his seat. “I shouldn’t have expected anything, you’re like allergic to emotions--”

“I’m not--”

“Guys!” Virgil groans. “You know what? Fine! I’ll fucking give up! Go sit in silence, I guess!”

“Wonderful,” Logan says.

“Fantastic,” Roman says.

So they sit in silence.

And Virgil could-should-wants to leave it there.

But he’s come so far already. And he’s not gonna give up. Not now.

These are his fucking soulmates, and they already hate him, so why not push his luck?

“We’re soulmates,” Virgil says slowly. “That’s not--that’s not gonna go away.”

“What do you expect me to do about it?” Roman asks.

“I don’t know, accept it?” Virgil holds up his palms. “Soulmates may be bullshit. But they’re not bullshit to literally all of society. We’re gonna get questions. Lots of them.”

Logan nods, and for the first time, Virgil thinks he’s actually listening.

“I could make something up,” Roman says, but his voice is thin.

“No, Virgil has a point.” Logan rubs at his own knuckles. “Besides, half the school saw our little debacle earlier, so doubtless rumors are already spreading.”

“Great,” Virgil mutters. “Exactly what I needed. Attention.”

“It’ll be alright,” Logan says hesitantly. It’s so out-of-character for him and so different than everything else he’s said that Virgil almost chokes on thin air. “Doubtless they will forget in a few days, even if at first things are overwhelming.”

“Besides, nobody cares about you, anyway.” Roman winces under Logan’s incredulous look. “What? Nobody does! He’s, like, a freaking shadow demon--I didn’t know his name until two weeks ago!”

“Wow, thanks,” Virgil says. “Way to make a guy feel special.”

“And I hate to say it,” Roman adds, rubbing at his neck, “but those first few days? People will be on us. So many questions. They’ll want to know what happened.”

“Well...” Virgil summons his courage. “What did happen? I didn’t even hear what you guys were arguing about.”

Logan shifts in his chair and Roman looks uncomfortable.

“It was one of those snowball things,” Roman says, waving a hand. “Y’know?”

Virgil stares at him and waits for him to explain.

“Small stuff turns to big stuff.” Roman bites his lip. “I dunno, I made a comment during class, Specs got on my case about it, and it all just kind of escalated into a big huge mess.”

“What comment?” Virgil asks.

“Don’t even remember.” Roman shrugs. “I think Logan misused infinitesimal. He thought it meant really big but it actually means really small--”

“It has the word infinite in it!” Logan complains. “It is a misleading word!”

“Wait.” Virgil holds up his hands. “You got into a fistfight over one fucking word?”

“I wasn’t the one who tailed me after class to complain about it!” Roman defends. “And I wasn’t the one who made it a fistfight!”

“Jeez, L,” Virgil says, wincing, “that sounds pretty rough. Why’d you get so mad?”

Logan tightens his grip on his pencil. “Roman said, and I quote, ‘Seriously? Infinitesimal means really small! I thought you were the smart guy, why'd you make such a stupid mistake?’”

Logan’s voice dips in the middle and almost cracks at the end. It’s left there, fraying and tight, and fuck, Logan’s hurt. He’s pressing everything into himself, Virgil can tell, and he’s upset.

Virgil repeats the words in his head. They’re not too bad, really--but they also seem to have hit a giant nerve.

“Okay,” he says lightly, trying not to sound as lost as he is, “yeah, nevermind, Lo. I do kinda get why you were mad now.”

Roman shifts. “I--okay. Thinking back, it was not the most...constructive choice of words. But in my defense, he took it way too seriously!”

“Well, you were the one who lashed out like a little bratty baby!”

“You were the one who freaking punched me!”

“Guys! Fucking come on!” Virgil sighs. “Could either of you contribute, like, an ounce of constructive criticism?”

“I will if he does,” Roman says, and he’s half-pouting now. It’s fucking irritating in a way that bubbles up in Virgil’s chest and sets fire to his bloodstream. But Logan’s not any better, staring Roman down like he’s completely ready to go for round two.

“Constructively,” says Logan, “your comment was out of line.”

“Constructively,” Roman fires back, “shut your fucking mouth.”

“You’re throwing a tantrum. I do not engage with tantrum-throwers--”

“Oh, like you didn’t blow up at me?” Roman sneers. “Or would you say your temper is...infinitesimal?”

“You make one mistake!” Logan yells. “And this is what happens!”

Roman rolls his eyes.

“Why did you feel the need to point it out?” Logan throws up his hands. “What possessed you to announce, in front of the entire class, that I failed? I understand that you want to make a mockery of my mistake, but you could have had the decency to keep it to yourself!”

“Wh--” Roman splutters. “Mockery of your--I just made a joke! It was a joke, C-3P0!”

“Yeah.” Virgil looks at Logan and bites his lip. “I dunno, that kind of...sounds like a you problem?”

“It’s a me problem that he--”

“You made one mistake!” Roman stares at him. “You made one singular mistake, I teased you about it, and it’s not a big deal!”

Logan slams his hand on the desk. “It’s a big deal to me!”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t afford to make mistakes!”

Roman reels back like he's been slapped. “Well, if you get that pissy about one little screwup, why aren’t you upset that you fucking punched me?”

“I didn’t--” Logan presses his hand to his chest. “Roman, I--”

“Forget it.” Roman turns away. “Just forget it, I guess.”

Logan stares at him.

“I didn’t--” Roman swallows, staring at the floor. “I didn’t realize what I said. I say stuff without thinking sometimes, blurt stuff out--and I guess I was just--” He curls into himself a bit. “You’re smart, and you always know stuff, and I’m--I’m not. So I guess I--got excited that I could finally correct you. That you were...human.” He takes a deep breath. “And now my reputation is cemented as problem child, I might get kicked out of the play, and my parents are going to yell at me for eternity, so yay! Fabulous. Everything is bitterly jittery and not very glittery, and I, for one, would like to stop talking to you.”

Logan looks like he’s been slapped in the face. Roman huffs out a small, sharp laugh and starts playing with his pencil, looking like he’s holding back tears.

“Breathe,” Virgil murmurs. Roman glances at him quickly and takes a breath. Virgil gives him a little smile, and he thinks, for a second, he gets one in return.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says quietly. “For punching you.”

“Well, that just fixes everything, doesn’t it?” Roman glares at Logan with red-rimmed eyes. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

“Right.” Logan turns away. “Right.”

Roman sniffs once and is silent.

Logan slowly puts his binder away and lays his head on his desk, covering it with his hands. Virgil sees a flash of red on his knuckles. Somewhere on his chest is Virgil’s handprint, thick and purple.

They’re soulmates.

Virgil wonders if that’s why they can hurt each other so easily--they were made for each other’s hearts and know exactly how to break them.

He wonders if he’s fucked up by even trying to get those two to talk. Roman is crying. Roman is pressing a hand to his mouth and crying, and Logan has a hand fisted in his hair like he wants to tug it loose.

Virgil bites his lip, reaches out, and slowly pulls Logan’s hand away from his hair. Logan lets it drop limp to his side. Virgil scoots away and sits on his chair, drawing tornadoes on his desk, noticing idly that the teacher never came back. She just left them here, alone, and the air smells like exhaust and wet because it’s started raining. Virgil hadn’t noticed. It’s raining and the sky is iron-grey and he just really wants to go home.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to the desk. “If I just made things worse, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Roman says, his voice brittle. Virgil glances at him. He’s wiping tears away and attempting to smile. “You were the only one working at it, so it’s no wonder it fell apart.”

Logan is silent. Virgil expected nothing else.

These are his soulmates, and they hate each other and hate him, and he feels like he’s going to cry.

Logan shifts on the desk. He’s still covering his head with one hand like he can disappear through sheer force of will. Virgil stares at the red on his knuckles. Soulmates. Soulmates and here they are, a bunch of juniors in detention, broken beyond fixing.

He doesn’t even know why he tried.

He should have known better.

“Why did you try and stop us?”

Virgil jerks his head around. Logan’s still curled up on his desk. His voice is whisper-quiet.

“What?” Virgil asks.

“Why did you try to stop us from fighting?” Logan's hand curls on the desk. “I’d just hurt Roman, I deserved whatever he decided to do, why did you try to stop us?”

Virgil gapes at Logan. Roman’s quiet too, and when Virgil looks at him, he nods. He wants to know the answer.

So does Virgil, if Virgil’s being honest.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“You were freaking me out,” he says simply. “I wanted you to stop yelling, because I was afraid I’d get hurt.”

Roman looks away.

“And...and after that--” Virgil clutches the sleeve of his hoodie. “I dunno. You’re--you’re my soulmates, and--everyone says soulmates are supposed to get you. Be your friends, or whatever. I--” He curls tighter into himself, running a hand along the cold chair beneath him. “Let’s not make this any more emo than it has to be, but--friends. Those sounded...pretty cool to me, I guess.”

He chances a look up. Roman is watching him carefully. Logan is still a pile of hair and hands and shirt on the desk.

“I don’t...” Roman’s voice wavers, and he swallows. “I...I can understand that.”

Virgil stares at his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says weakly.

“I know,” Virgil says. “So does Roman.”

“No, I’m really--” Logan pushes himself off the desk and turns to them. “I know, I know you don’t want to hear it, and I get that, but--Roman, I didn’t mean any of what I said. I promise. I was just--”

“A jerk?” Roman asks, but the jab falls flat, and Logan doesn’t even seem fazed.

“Yes,” he agrees. “I was.”

“You said it, not me,” Roman says.

“You also said it,” Virgil points out.

Roman gives him a glare.

“I was a jerk.” Logan cups one hand around his arm and begins to hug himself, looking at the blackboard instead of Virgil or Roman. Someone left a half-finished equation on there, and the chalk dust spells out all the faded problems before. Virgil catches snippets of dozens of different handwritings, none of them fully erased.

“You gonna continue?” Roman asks, his mouth lifting in a smile. “We don’t have all day.”

“I...” Logan chews on his lip. “I suppose I was...angry. I don’t like being wrong.”

“Nobody does,” Virgil says. “That’s normal.

“I just--” Logan takes a deep breath. “People always assume I’m just gifted. That I haven’t fought to have the grades I do. It’s completely illogical, since intelligence isn’t something you’re born with. I’ve tried my hardest to be where I am. And if I slip up, I’ll fail, and I’ll be right back at the bottom again!” He takes another deep breath, reaches down, and pulls out his binder. “I’m...I’m going to study now, if that’s alright. Feel free to talk.”

Roman and Virgil give each other a look. Then Virgil realizes he’s communicating wordlessly with a guy he hates.

Well, he doesn’t hate them. They hate each other.

Except right now, neither of them are glaring at each other.

It doesn’t erase much. The words are still there, etched in chalk and unable to be removed. But it’s a start.

And Virgil decides to push his luck just a little bit more.

“How do you feel,” he says slowly, “about us being soulmates?”

“How do you think?” Roman asks, his voice immediately souring. “I think we all made it pretty clear.”

“No, I mean--” Virgil waves a hand. “Yeah. We...we don’t like each other much. And we’ve clearly all got a lot of shit to work through. But--how do you feel about the idea? The, I dunno, possibility? That maybe one day...we wouldn’t have to hate each other anymore?”

“Sure,” Roman says. “That’ll happen. We’ll all just become best buds.”

“Roman,” Logan snaps. “You can say you don’t like me, you know.”

 “That’s not--” Roman pauses. “I wasn’t--I was thinking you wouldn’t like me. Actually.”

“What?” Logan blurts out. “Why on earth not?”

“Um, ‘cause we fought? I called you names?” Roman waves a hand at himself. “That wasn’t exactly soulmate behavior.”

“I hit you!”

“Only once!” Roman folds his arms. “And you’re...you’re smart, and stuff. You deserve--yeah.”

Logan stares at Roman for a very long time. “What can I do?”

“What?” Roman asks.

“What can I do?” Logan repeats. “How can I...begin to make things up to you?”

“You don’t have to--” Roman laughs a bit, but it fades away. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.” Logan nods. “I wronged you, and I want to make it right.”

“Oh.” Roman gives Logan a bit of a smile. “Um, thanks?”

“No problem. Now, how can I assist you...to make up for mistakes one might have made prior?”

“That aren’t a big deal,” Virgil reminds him, “and that you’re going to be better than, okay?”

“Right,” Logan says, and he looks so relieved--it’s like he’s an entirely different person than the one in the hallway.

Then again, Virgil met his soulmates and immediately yelled at them. They probably all have hidden depths.

“Well,” Roman says slowly, a smirk spreading across his face, “if it’s anything, I wouldn’t mind infinite access to all of your notes--”

“No,” Logan says.

“Worth a shot.” Roman groans and collapses dramatically onto his desk. “Now I’ll fail my test. Thanks a lot, Specs, you’re a real pal.”

“I could--” Logan pauses, but Roman doesn’t interrupt. “I could...tutor you? If you wished?”

“What?” Roman snorts. “Better men than you have tried and failed."

“I’m serious.” Logan points to hs chest. “Always am. I wear a necktie.”

“You wear a necktie,” Roman agrees, “and it’s fucking incredible.”

“I’m trying to help and you’re making fun of me!”

“No, it’s--” Roman shifts. “I think--you pull off the necktie. So it’s fine.”

“Oh.” Logan blinks for a few times. “Regardless. I would like to offer my tutoring services.”

“And like I said, don’t bother.” Roman sinks a bit. “I’m no good at school stuff.”

“I highly doubt that,” Logan says. “Most likely, your education experience has been lacking. But you’ve shown creativity before--mainly in the inventive insults you’ve thrown at me--and I think in a one-on-one environment, you could flourish much more.” Logan pauses. “If--if you’d like, of course.”

Roman watches Logan for a few seconds. “You know what? I might just take you up on that. Er...thanks.”

“No problem.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “I know it can’t begin to make up for everything, but I think it would be...a good starting place?”

“Yeah.” Roman shrugs. “And that’s kind of all we need.”

“Thank you,” Logan says. “And, of course, Virgil.”

Virgil jumps. He’s been just sitting here, kind of smiling, glad they’re finally getting along but feeling kind of like a third wheel. He should have figured his soulmates would like each other better--

“Virgil!” Roman declares. “Our dashing prince who rescued us from the jaws of hate and malice! A thousand thanks to thee!”

“Um--” Virgil blinks. “You’re...welcome?”

“You did wonderfully,” Logan says, smiling a little smile at Virgil that makes Virgil ‘s face burn. “You went above and beyond what was expected.”

“How can our relationship fail with such a tireless helper at the wheel?” Roman asks.

“Relationship?” Virgil repeats. “Uh, dude, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Virgil’s right,” Logan says. “Again. A, we are not in any sort of relationship. And B, any such partnership would come to naught if we only relied on Virgil’s expert advice and did no work of our own.”

“Yeah, good point.” Virgil nods. “I am not doing this again, sorry. Get a real fucking therapist, please.”

Roman nods and has the grace to look sheepish. Logan smiles at Virgil again. Fuck, a smile that cute should be illegal, Virgil’s going to perish. He’s going to die right here in this classroom and never make it out of detention.

“So...work.” Roman shifts. “Tutoring?”

“Tutoring.” Logan pauses. “And...perhaps exchanging numbers?”

“Forward,” Virgil says. “Buy me dinner first.”

“I can if you’d wish--”

“It’s an expression,” Roman says almost fondly. “But of course, I will gladly share my phone number.”

“Great, we can make a group chat.” Virgil grabs his phone. “And I get to make it, too, so I can name it whatever I want.”

“Oh no,” Logan says.

“Oh, yes.” Virgil smirks. “You’re my soulmates, you know. You’re stuck with me.”

“Falsehood.” Logan shakes his head. “I’m glad you’re my soulmate. You too, Roman.”

“What?” Roman looks about to cry again. “Really? I--well, you two are...prickly. But...I like you. You challenge me on my bullshit--not that I’m often bullshit-y, of course. It’s...it’s nice. To have you guys.”

Virgil looks between them. “You’re both assholes and I’m still mad that you got me detention. But--if you’re willing to give this a shot...so am I.”

“Take a leap of faith,” Roman agrees.

“Take a risk,” Logan says.

“Push my luck.” Virgil smiles. “If you’d like.”

Roman smiles back. “I would like nothing more.”

“Phone numbers?” Logan offers. “Then...perhaps we could arrange an outside-of-school meeting? We can think of it as a second chance to get to know each other?”

“Nah.” Virgil shakes his head and holds up his palms. “We already did. Don’t think we can change our first meeting, L.”

“Fair,” Roman says, rubbing at the purple on his wrist.

“But maybe that’s okay?” Virgil ventures. “It’s not perfect, but--it did get us here, in the end. Hating each other slightly less.”

“Speak for yourself,” Roman says, but he’s grinning. And even Logan is relaxing in his chair.

The rain thrums outside the window, the air smells like chalk and wet trees, and Virgil is starting to wonder if taking risks might be worth it after all.

If they lead to this--two smiling faces, close to him, and a world of possibility before them.

The future has always scared Virgil. Today, though, he’s looking forward to it. A future with them. A future where they could be friends. They’re not close yet, they’re not all good just yet, but they’re willing to try. All of them.

And that’s a start.

“No fighting, though?” Virgil asks. “Promise me that, at least. I’m done playing mediator.”

“I promise,” Roman says.

Logan nods.

There’s half an hour left of detention. But they spend it together, and Virgil’s shocked at how quickly time flies when he’s got people to talk to.

Possible-friends. Future-friends. And maybe Virgil will mess it up, and maybe he won’t, and right now things are...good. Things are good. Things are looking up. Things won’t be perfect, and things can’t be erased, but they can try.

Virgil rubs his colorful palms and smiles.

Life is safer when he lives and lets live. Life was safer when his palms were black.

But life is more beautiful, more colorful, when he lets himself live it.

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#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #analogince #prinxiety #logince #analogical #soulmate au #high school au #sanders sides fic #averywrites #is this me projecting my frustrations with the education system #and being classified as a gifted child #maaayyybeeee #you can't prove anything okay

[dysphxtric]

Mental Illness - My Mental Health Story

TW: Depression, Anxiety, Self harm, Suicide, Sexual Harassment

“You should smile more.”

“It could be worse.”

“Just don’t think about it.”

These were the phrases I heard throughout all of my elementary and high school years. There was never a time when my peers and teachers, would not mention some bizarre, ignorant statement revolving around mental health. Not to mention, my family also contributed heavily to the stigmatization of mental health issues. Essentially, my family approached the subject of mental health with extreme hesitation, they refused to talk about how it affects people of all age, gender, ethical background (etc.) Every time I would say “I’m feeling lost” my family would automatically dismiss my frantic worries and it was not any different when I went to school. My peers would continuously remind me that my pain was not valid and that I need to stop being so sensitive. My primary parental figures, my mother and brother did not have the adequate knowledge or tools to be able to hold space for me. I would frequently hear my mom say, “I could understand someone suffering from PTSD feeling upset or sad but you’re so young and healthy honey, you have nothing to worry about” or the old classic “Someone else has it worse than you”. Whether I was at home or at school, I heard the same ignorant statements spewing out from what felt like everyone. And I could never comprehend what was the point of these falsely “encouraging” statements and why profusely use them? These kinds of statements do not uplift, nor do they empower those struggling with mental health issues, if anything it makes it extremely debilitating when your emotions are not acknowledged nor validated. One cannot expect to simply brush away another person’s emotion, thought or feeling as though it means nothing.

With that being said, growing up, I lived in a dysfunctional household alongside my mother, my older brother, and my grandmother. My mother would always be juggling work, schooling, and her dating life. My brother was very reluctant about staying home so he would always vanish after school, hang out with friends, party hard and engage with various street substances. Now my grandmother? It was not long after she immigrated that she began to immerse herself within the Jehovah’s Witnesses ideology and “religiously” strayed away from us as my mother likes to say. My mother was never fond of religious practices that were not “orthodox”. My grandmother wanted to indoctrinate my mom, brother, and I into joining her religious little club but failed which resulted in countless fights, yelling matches, and multiple dents left in our walls. The back and forth with the yelling was what scared me most in my childhood even if it was over something as small as not closing the cabinet door. I think it was around this time period I experienced violence/ trauma at home and truth be told I was extremely stressed and anxious all the time as a kid. My mother would cover the punched indents by taking magazines and sticking pages onto the indent. Often times my stomach would turn as I looked at the pages covering the area where my brother punched the wall with brutal force. Moreover, I felt impending sadness because all I ever wanted was for everyone in my family to be able coexist and not argue. I was trying to keep the peace between everyone, yet I was always the one that got caught in the middle of everything whether I liked it or not. I would get blamed a lot for trying to mend things for everyone. Even though all I wanted was the best for all my family members.

Fast forward to my pre-teen/ teenage years. By this point, my brother and grandmother were no longer living under the same roof as my mother and I. My brother was living with his ex-girlfriend while working as a security guard meanwhile my grandmother was living in her own little subsidized apartment preaching the word of Jehovah. At that particular time, my mother and I lived in a marvellous urban semi-detached house in a peaceful neighbourhood. My mother’s boyfriend had moved in with us and for the most part I was really happy because at least it was not just me and her.

My mother’s boyfriend lived with us while I was going to school. He was a really nice, caring and warm-hearted individual although I could never understand why my mother argued with him so much. I once told him “You should propose to her, I can see you two together forever” to which he replied with a welcoming smile.

But eventually just like with all good things, there comes an end. The inevitable breakup my mom went through was very bitter and I had to be there for her. Afterall, I was technically the only child that was around to emotionally comfort her. Ironically, the breakup occurred during the time I was being bullied in school. And it was difficult to be fully present for my mother while dealing with a lot of negativity at school. I had been experiencing cyber bullying on MSN by a bunch of peers calling me “weird”, “ugly” and “different”. To make matters worse, the group of kids that bullied me online ended up following me everywhere I went for recess which posed as a big obstacle for my well being. I had to eat inside the portables when teachers weren’t around or inside the girl’s bathroom stall just to avoid being teased. I never felt like I had a safe space to myself where I could be vulnerable and open up. Not to mention, it was a difficult time and there was practically no one I could confide in. I didn’t have a social circle of supportive friends, after all I was an antisocial person. Fear washed over me as I worried about disclosing my unpleasant experience to my mother because she was already dealing with so much, the heartbreak, the bills, work problems (etc.), it was then and there that I decided to lie instead of telling the truth. Ultimately, lying became my cooping mechanism to deal with the ongoing pain.

I kept up the lying for a long time in order to make it seem like everything was okay. I lied to everyone from family members to school peers to the teaching staff to principals to counselors.

For the longest time, lying sheltered me from all sorts of unnecessary questions. No one could really tell whether I was truthful or disloyal because I was able to make it sound believable. When I was a teenager, I continued to go down the same destructive path by being dishonest with myself and others. Many times, the thought of suicide crossed my mind and when I started to think about it and plan/coordinate the intricate details it did not hit me that something was very wrong, and I needed urgent help. A big part of the problem was that I was so used to downplaying my pain, given my family circumstance and stigmatization I experienced growing up with. There is no denying that I would engage in negative self talk convincing myself that I deserved the pain and suffering for not being likeable enough or for not being smart enough.

Sometimes I think that is the thing… people do not understand that I lied because that was what I was required to do in order to survive my childhood. I, myself do not tolerate lying and I think it is a form of betrayal and if I were to be completely honest, I would have NEVER lied to my mom had it been safe for me to express myself authentically in my household.

I did not live in a household where it was safe to speak my mind freely and disagree with my mother. Disagreeing was always the last thing I wanted to do, disagreeing meant I got the belt, my devices would get confiscated or that I was going to get grounded. They say, “Honesty is the best policy” and I do not disagree however, it is not as black and white as one may think. In my situation, lying was not only an adaptive coping mechanism but it became a survival mechanism to keep me safe from harm/threat.

I did not have very much individuality growing up. I felt as though having an opinion of my own was bad. In order to perpetuate this fixated mindset that I had, my mother constantly deemed certain attributed behaviours or thoughts as “good” or “bad”. So, say you were upset about a recent breakup with your partner, my mother would scoff and say, “You know life isn’t just about love right?” and play it like it means nothing to the person affected by the situation.

The first time I ever felt depressed was when I was 13. At that age I did not understand why I was feeling what I was feeling. All I knew was that there was something wrong with me. It did not help when I was being picked on by my classmates telling me “Go die”, “You belong in a ditch ugly bitch.”

The moment when things started getting out of hand was when I was first started my Art and Family Studies class in the same semester. In both classes I was placed into groups amongst other students. In Family Studies I had to be in a collaborative group that would divide responsibilities and tasks accordingly. When it came to cooking, my group consisted of four snobby, rich yet immature peers who were unwilling to help and contribute in any shape or form, I had to become the bigger person and sure enough I took all the responsibilities on myself. Though, it was not a smart move. But I was super shy and felt anxious to do anything different least to say speak up and advocate for myself, so I did what I had to do which was prepare meals, clean, and wash the dishes. At the end of the day, none of my peers thanked me, the only thank you I got was getting groped while washing the dishes and getting laughed at.

After what happened I ran to my best friend in tears to tell her what happened just to find her say “It’s not that bad, you’ll be fine” I felt like my blood was going to boil and I was about to start fuming. I stood thinking “Huh, that is so weird, is this how you comfort a person after being sexually harassed?”

Not to sound all grim but that experience showed me that no one really cared about me. No one cared that I got groped or how I felt in that moment. Let alone not even my “best friend” who was supposed to fulfill her role and be there for me. All I wanted was comfort and to be heard out. I could not even tell my mother about this experience until I turned 21 because of how ashamed I felt carrying around that experience and not having the ability to open up and mourn what happened that day and to be able to heal that damaged part of myself. I carried that incident with me for 7 years in silence because I was scared of being honest.

That specific experience was very detrimental to my mental health. Everything began to spiral out of control, I sprawled into a dark depressive state. I began to have intense panic attacks, insomnia, forgetfulness (etc.) After a certain duration of time, I had thoughts of suicide lingering at the back of my head. I questioned my worth, my identity, my culture, my everything.

The bullying and name calling persisted and became so intense that I ended up missing weeks of school time. Some of the boys in my Art class found it funny to make fun of my last name and call me “Prostitute”.

One day in the early springtime, my Art teacher noticed the marks on my wrists as I was painting and had not said anything until I made it to my last period class. I was called down to the guidance counselors office and was interrogated with questions.

“It has come to our concern that one of the staff members noticed cuts on your arms.”

I sat in silence trying hard to contain my anxiety.

“Are you struggling with depression or low mood? Is everything okay at home?”

It came to the point when I got so tired of lying about my pain that I admitted “Yes, I am struggling, I need help”. I dived into the bullying occurrences, the cat calling, my low grades, my self-esteem, the groping, my home situation (etc). After that, I was told that my mother would have to be called down to the school for “safety” reasons even though my counselor promised not to disclose any personal information to my mother. My greatest fear was that I did not want my mom to know that something was wrong.

Of course, my mom came to my school. She was told everything that had happened. I met her at the counselor’s office just to find her wailing in distress “You are such an embarrassment” and “Your counselor told me what you did, how could you do this?”. When the counselor gave us resources for help, my mother grabbed the papers and shoved them into the trash, got up and yanked me out the office.

The next three days that followed, my mother withdrew into her room not saying a word to me. I felt really uneasy and upset. She had her right to be alone but locking herself away from me and avoiding communication altogether? Didn’t make much sense.

I felt extremely guilty for not opening up to my mother sooner. But instead of choosing to be compassionate and caring she chose to resort to anger. She furiously blamed me for being “quiet” and “not trustful” which all landed on my shoulders again. It was “my” fault I thought.

Bottling this up resulted in a full-blown mental breakdown. I could not focus or concentrate because of everything building up. It came to the point where my mom had to choose between living in a toxic community or starting fresh elsewhere.

And even though my mother kept subjecting me to her harmful stigmatizations, the transition from my old school to my new one helped me greatly. When we moved away, I gradually started to feel better emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Very quickly, I ended up adapting to my new high school where I finally made friends.

One thing I cannot deny is that there definitely was a silver lining to all of this. Although I went through severe bullying and torment at school and home, I managed to reclaim my power and through that I discovered my inner peace after being extracted from my toxic high school. The new school that I ended up attending completely changed me and inspired me to become a more authentic version of myself. It was almost as though I did a complete 180°

My new peers and teachers were enthusiastic, open-minded and caring. The new community I was surrounding myself in was a very positive one that broke down stigmas and encouraged deep understanding and acceptance. My mind was blown when I found that it was easier to conversate with girls and guys at my new school, I was gradually becoming confident and more vocal, and I liked the feeling of not hiding myself away from the world. It felt rejuvenating to finally be heard and seen by others.

Slowly but surely, I began to partake in various activities at my school. I joined the Poetry Club which I would have never considered joining had I stayed back in my old school due to fear of how I was perceived. Ultimately, I started caring and nurturing myself more. My new friends supported me, and teachers began to openly listen to my stories and encouraged me to write. When I started writing, I realized that I could use this medium to cope with my depression and anxiety. The acknowledgment made a major difference in my life like never before.

If it were not for the transition from my old high school, I would have not made progress in developing into the woman I am today. I know that I am not my pain, I am not my mistakes.

Do I still struggle and have bad days? Yes, of course. Just like any human being I have my days when I am not feeling the greatest however, I am more open to learning about how to engage with my mind, body and soul in order to soothe myself during turbulent times. I still have that inner critic however, I have been engaging with activities such as bike riding, painting, drawing, and reading to help occupy my mind which as a result has reduced the time that I spend ruminating. Occupying myself has worked magic, I am now able to reduce and control how much time I spend self-loathing, criticizing, and judging myself. Rather than judging every thought, I’ve learned to slow down and observe.

If you stuck along until the end of my story, I want to thank you for reading through my experience. My hope is that my story can shed some light on the myths and stigmas surrounding mental health, especially within the Eastern European community. I want you all to know that you are ALL valid and I wanted to be able to share my story so that my readers know that they are not alone.

#mental health #mental health awareness #depression #mdd #mood disorder #anxiety #gad #my story #hope #bullying #narcissistic parent #end the stigma #recovery #fyp

[tangent101]

Max Caulfield and Post-Storm PTSD

One thing I find interesting (and have done so myself) is speculating on how broken Max will be in a Post-Storm (either Sacrifice Chloe or Sacrifice Arcadia Bay) setting. While some people (usually those who killed Chloe) like to say "she'd bounce back!" the predominant view is that we have a shattered Max after this who needs a lot of therapy. So I thought I'd unpack this and look at why I look at this this way.

At this point I should add there is potential triggers here. I'll be examining my own PTSD and elements of Max's state of mind that may in fact result in her being in declining mental health in the wake of the events of Life is Strange.

First, let's consider what PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) is, and what causes it. And for this I'm going to start by sharing my own trauma. Because I have PTSD. I gained this after I saw a vehicle go out of control and hit two people and run over two others. The final person was trapped under the vehicle and they had to push the van at an angle to pull him out, do CPR, and... he was dead. Even if EMTs had been right there, he'd not have survived.

I suffer flashbacks thinking of this, though it's gotten better. I will flinch, visualize what happened, and feel nausea. I get tense over this and... well, it's not a happy experience to put it mildly. And I have what is likely a milder case of PTSD. I also developed it despite being in an environment that put me at a lower risk of developing it. And yes, I had minor twinges of PTSD writing this up. Two years ago I probably would have had an actual visualization and anxiety break. So you can get better with therapy and help.

But what specifically is PTSD? According to the website for the National Institute of Mental Health, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) develops in some people who experience shocking or dangerous events, with people who have PTSD feeling stressed or frightened even when they are not in danger. PTSD can occur within 3 months of traumatic events or even have you be fine and then crop up *years* later. And symptoms include flashbacks where you relive the trauma, bad dreams, and frightening thoughts which can disrupt a person's everyday routine.

People with PTSD are easily startled, can feel "on edge," have angry outburst, and have difficulty sleeping. They could go through avoidance of staying away from reminders of the experience and avoiding thoughts or feelings related to the event. Further, cognitive and mood symptoms include problems remembering key features of the event, self-negativity, distorted guilt or blame feelings, and loss of interest in enjoyable activities.

Okay, so how can you avoid PTSD? And how could Max avoid this? Well, factors promoting recovery after trauma include seeking support from friends and family, finding a support group, learning to feel good about your own actions in the face of danger, positive coping strategies, and learning to act and respond effectively even when feeling fear.

And this is the kicker. This is why Max is likely screwed as a result of the events of Life is Strange, especially in a Sacrifice Chloe setting. Because Max blames herself and her time travel for the Storm and all the weird shit that happened. She may very well believe that if she uses time travel for any reason, it will result in the Storm and a lot more people dying. And this will get in the way of being in a healthy environment to avoid PTSD.

First, consider friends and family. Max can't tell them what happened because she has absolutely no proof of what she went through. She can't prove her time travel because if she does then she dooms wherever she is and a lot of people die. (It doesn't matter if this is the case or not, she assumes it is true.) So Max is not going to confide in Warren or Dana or Victoria or anyone. She can't. And she's quite likely going to isolate herself because we have already seen at the start of the game, Max is a bit of a loner who doesn't have many friends.

In fact, her two "friends" are Warren (who she feels threatened by due to his attraction to her, as seen by his inclusion in her Nightmare sequence including learning he doctored photos of her to include himself in the picture, his peeping activities on the second day, and the honestly-creepy "Go Ape" thing), and Kate. Kate is going through her own shit and Max remembers Kate killing herself. Is Max going to unload her own issues on someone going through a lot of shit as well or is she going to swallow her problems so not to trouble her friend? And Warren is someone she feels nervous around and who has engaged in some activities that set up warning flags in her psyche. Further, when she told Warren the truth, he promptly blames her time travel on fucking everything up. In short, she trusted Warren and Warren said "you caused all this destruction." (Even if Max initially blames herself, he reinforces that point of view before Max jumps through the photo to save Chloe.)

Nor can I see her telling her parents. Again, she has no proof. Her parents are overprotective already. If she starts going off on this fanciful tale, are they going to believe her? Or are they going to assume their daughter is cracking and force her into therapy and possibly hospitalize her "for her own good" (and thus she ends up medicated and miserable, having lost her autonomy and agency)? It doesn't matter if they wouldn't as Max will worry this could happen. It is better to never say a thing. So Max internalizes everything. And we already see evidence that Max has done this sort of thing in the past. Max keeps her secrets close to her heart. She never told her parents of the time travel even when she could have had proof. So why tell them after Chloe died?

I have been overcoming my PTSD by revisiting it and working through it. Part of this was guided by therapy. Max would not be in a position to talk about this. And how could she? After all, she didn't find Rachel Amber's body (and we have no proof her body is uncovered in a Sacrifice Chloe setting). She didn't see the Storm. She didn't see most of the incidents. The closest that happened was being in the bathroom when Chloe was shot. And her story of what happened would change from the week that beta-Max was in charge and when Max Prime returned to the timeline. So even if she was talking to a school counselor? She'd quickly learn that her story changed and probably shut up and stop seeing them so not to give away her story.

Remember: Max cannot admit to the time travel because doing so means either killing hundreds of people due to the Storm or being locked away for being crazy because she has no proof.

Next, we have feeling good about her actions. For five days Max had hammered into her skull her actions have consequences. More, those consequences are predominantly bad. Far too often Max has to Rewind to fix things from her actions. If she can't Rewind? That means by acting, she's going to fuck things up. In fact, the fundamental aspect of Sacrifice Chloe states that her action to save Chloe caused all of this destruction. Max is going to second-guess herself constantly.

I mean, if she sees Kate on the roof again at a later point (because women who are the victims of crimes are often blamed by society for the crimes inflicted against them as seen time and time again with how we blame victims of sexual harassment and rape for the crimes committed against them, so of course her church and mother and aunt will continue to blame Kate for what she went through), will Max dare to act? If she does, then she might cause another Storm. She might cause damage. If Kate is on that rooftop again, maybe she was supposed to die. Who does Max think she is by trying to stop Destiny?

So yeah. Max is not going to feel good about her actions. She is going to second-guess herself. She already had that tendency at the start of the game, and Sacrifice Chloe hammers down the truth that action is bad. Better to do nothing and not interact.

We end up with Avoidance. Well, what is the biggest Avoidance? Photography. Max already has a murderer who kidnapped her associated with photography. She remembers being in the Dark Room, being powerless in the face of the man who murdered her Chloe. (Just like she murdered her Chloe. She might not have pulled the trigger, but she caused Chloe's death.) She will see Chloe's death and Rachel's death and her own suffering each time she looks at a camera and remembers Mark Jefferson. More, she knows if she focuses on a photograph she could end up traveling through time and causing the Storm. So she can't even enjoy pictures anymore because they are a threat.

That's not to say that the Sacrifice Chloe setting is all dark and dire. She does have music. She loves music. So if she puts aside the camera she might pick up her guitar and embrace music. (Hannah Telle, Max's VA, once speculated that Max would enter a career in music, probably due partly to her own musical inclinations.) So while she might give up her greatest loves, she might eventually embrace a future in music. I doubt she'd ever play in public but... that might be an outlet for a hurting soul.

Now, I've gone on at length about how dire things are for Max in a Sacrifice Chloe setting, but what about Sacrifice Arcadia Bay? Well, things end up a bit more positive in this setting because she can actually talk about going through some of these things. For instance, Max dug up a body with Chloe. She saw Chloe almost shot by Nathan in the bathroom. She saw Kate attempt suicide (whether or not she stopped it is immaterial to the suicide attempt). She learned that a trusted teacher and mentor was in fact a predator who was kidnapping young women, saw pictures of these crimes, and thus "suffers flashbacks visualizing herself in this setting." She can go to therapy and talk about many things she cannot in a Sacrifice Chloe setting and in doing so she can start to work through elements that could result in PTSD developing.

She can also talk to Chloe about what happened. Chloe knows about the time travel. She knows about almost dying (and Max witnessing Chloe's death multiple times). This gives Max a needed outlet for overcoming her own fears and concerns. But more importantly is this: Chloe is likely to tell Max to face down her fears. Chloe is the person who always pushed Max to try new things. And I honestly cannot see that changing as a result of what they went through.

Max also will learn to feel good about her actions. I mean, she chose Chloe over Arcadia Bay. This is the ultimate action, and while she may feel remorse for those deaths and that destruction... she also knows she saved Chloe and Chloe is by her side. She knows that her actions led to the capture and arrest of Mark Jefferson and saving Victoria Chase's life. Hell, it led to David Madsen (and probably a couple Arcadia Bay police officers) surviving the Storm because they were in the Dark Room at the time of the Storm. Her actions have consequences... and those consequences need not be dire. They can be beneficial.

So the Max of Sacrifice Arcadia Bay has a support group, she has access to therapy and can talk about some of the things she went through, she has someone she loves who believes her, she knows that her actions have benefit, she has someone who urges her to move forward. This isn't to say she won't have PTSD... but she is in a far better environment to overcome this to the point that in Life is Strange 2, we learn (in the Save Chloe timeline) that Max is submitting to galleries and that Chloe is still with her. So she's taking pictures and is in a good place in her life.

Now, what about Chloe? After all, Chloe went through some truly horrific shit herself. Chloe was almost shot by Nathan, she almost got hit by a train, she was threatened by Frank, she dug up the body of a girl she truly cared for, dozens of yards from where she was hanging out regularly, she saw a huge-ass Tornado wipe out her home town and kill her mother... yeah, Chloe's been through some horrific stuff, about as horrific as Max. More, she is in an unhealthy position at the time of the game.

But much of what benefits Max in the Save Chloe timeline also benefits Chloe. She can talk to a therapist. She has Max by her side. She has Max by her side and Max out-and-out chose her over hundreds of people. Joyce chose David over her, and for four years Chloe was in an unsafe environment. Rachel was... Rachel, and she was cheating on Chloe anyway. But Max... Max comes back, she saves her life several times, she helps Chloe time and time again, and at the end she chose Chloe over Arcadia Bay. That is big. That is bigger than big, it is... for once, Chloe was told "you are important." I mean, I'm getting teary-eyed just thinking of how big this is. Chloe has realized just how much Max loves her.

So... Chloe might develop PTSD. She is at risk of it. I think her triggers might similar to Max's - both girls probably will freak over thunderstorms for a while, and both may develop an aversion toward guns... at first I thought they'd differ but really, they'd align fairly well. About the only trigger issue Max would have Chloe doesn't has to do with photography (which is why Chloe is the person who'd help Max overcome any such issues).

#ptsd #post traumatic stress disorder #life is strange #lis #max caulfield #chloe price #max and chloe #sacrifice arcadia bay #sacrifice chloe #mental health

[slashermom]

That childhood friend ask had my heart, so how would it be with the other slashers? Like a friend Michael made at Smith’s Grove, a camper that stood up for Jason before he was thrown in the lake, those are just a couple of ideas. I’d love to see what you could come up with💕(just to shorten the list, it’s still kinda long, but they’re soooo cute Billy Loomis and Stu (separate) Brahms, Bubba, Thomas, Jason, Michael, and Norman deserves some love too) thank you so much❤️ I adore your writing btw

You already know the drill. Nothing spooky just big and didn’t wanna clog the feed. Enjoy!

Michael was only a boy when he entered what would become his personal hell.

He wasn’t really allowed too much time with other children in the ward but he did get some supervised recreational time a few times a week.

Which is where your story begins.

You never really told Michael why you were there but he could tell you didn’t want to be there any more than he did.

You typically kept to yourself but seemed kind to anyone who approached you. Even though you were nice enough you were quite reserved, so you can imagine the surprise he got when you came to him.

Michael wasn’t a big talker even back then but you talked enough for the both of you.

Michael wanted nothing to do with you in the beginning. I mean absolutely nothing to do with you but slowly you began to grow on him - a part of his routine.

Every once and a while he would mumble a one-word answer and make your whole day.

But as he grew older those treats grew few and far between. But you didn’t seem to mind.

Dr. Loomis definitely studied your interactions with Michael and tried to use it to figure out more about the young boy.

Michael even began to enjoy tolerate your company. But just as things started to blossom between you two - you pulled away.

“I’m going home Michael.”

You’re what? Did he hear you correctly? No. You couldn’t go home. You couldn’t just leave him here.

“This is my address... Once you get out you’re more than welcome to come visit anytime you like. You always have a place with me, Michael. “

You slid a small piece of paper across the table and then went to go reach out to put a hand over his but he yanked his hand away like he had been shocked.

You begged him not to be mad. But he was livid. How dare you leave just when he was about to let you in? When he did let you in.

Michael didn’t say a word but his eyes spoke volumes and you left feeling sick that you managed to leave and he didn’t.

Quite some time would pass before you two saw each other again.

But bet your ass one of the first things Michael did when he escaped was locate your residence.

He had every intention of watching the life drain out of your eyes and being done with you. Forget you as you forgot him.

But as he watched you, he remembered how much he missed you. Michael didn’t think there was anything to miss but boy was he wrong.

He noticed how you kept some of the routine Smiths Grove lays out for its patients.

You can take the kid out of the sanatorium but you can’t take the sanatorium out of the kid, huh?

These quirks that made you so recognizable in the sea of grey at Smith’s Grove. Things that grew on him like moss and sunk their claws in deep.

He watched you turn on the news and see the report on his escape. You stared a the screen with an unreadable gaze before shaking your head and turning to go to the kitchen.

Not before bumping into the Shape.

Taking in everything that the young boy had become, not that you could really see much with the mask and jumpsuit but he definitely had changed a bit since you had last seen each other.

“Michael.”

He knew what he should do, what he had to do, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move. Michael could only stare at you intensely and catalog your features.

Michael didn’t react when you slowly reached out and looped your fingers into his. Ignoring how the other hand was white-knuckling a kitchen knife that you suspected was taken out of your kitchen.

He only felt your warmth.

“I told you that you always had a place with me.”

And with that his mind was made.

Jason didn’t have any friends. Period.

He wasn’t expecting to find one at a summer camp he really wasn’t interested in being at in the first place.

You two never really played together per se but definitely acknowledged each other’s existence.

Always giving him a wave or a smile in the dining hall or across the field.

You even sat down next to him during downtime between activities and tried to strike up a conversation. He wanted to talk to you, he really did, but it was just a little hard for him.

Jason was working on putting something together for you to show his appreciation and willingness to be your friend.

Unfortunately, he never got to give it to you.

He remembers you running towards the end of the dock where he was about to be thrown into the water

“Stop! What are you doing?!”

The other kids laughed and explained they were just gonna dunk him.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong! Just leave him alone! You’re gonna get in trouble if you do this.”

As hard as you tried they still threw him into the water and scattered and as fast as you ran for help Jason still drowned.

You never forgave yourself for it.

Which is how you ended up back at Camp Crystal Lake as an adult.

Feeling guilty and some way responsible for his drowning, you returned to the summer camp in hopes to be the best camp counselor and somehow make up for the past.

It was an accident. You told yourself.

But you could never get the look of Mrs. Voorhees’ face out of your head. Poor woman.

Well, those plans were abruptly put on the back burner when your fellow counselors began being murdered left and right.

You didn’t know who was violently attacking everyone only that he was big, scary, and was wearing a hockey mask. That was more than enough for you to get the hell out of dodge.

Jason had managed to corner you into one of the old bunkhouses when he faltered just for a second.

Wait.

You looked familiar... Where had he seen you before?

“Y/N! Where are you? We need to go now!” The voice of one of your peers called from outside.

Y/N. That Y/N?

He flashed his gaze back down to your form across the hallway and seemed to come to the conclusion that it was, in fact, the same kid who tried to save him.

Each step you took back, he took one forward. You continued this dance until you were practically pushed up against the wall of the cabin.

Frantically looking for an escape or weapon you missed him reaching into his pocket and pulling out a piece of old construction paper.

His large hand held it out to your shaking form and waited for you to take it. Well, if you’re gonna die might as well see what the paper has to say.

It was old, wrinkled, and water damaged but still cared for in a way. You carefully unfolded the paper and felt your heart jump into the throat.

It was covered in colorful leaf rubbings and had flowers and pine needles taped all over surrounding a messy sentence in the middle that read:

‘My name is Jason. Do you want to be my friend?’

Billy was a little prick as a kid.

So not much has changed.

His anger always got the best of him and he had to always be king of the playground.

It wasn’t until you pushed him off the top of the jungle gym for messing with one of your friends that he really acknowledged you.

The rest is history.

You two were always picking on and chasing each other around the town.

That is until Billy formed his love for movies.

Always wanting to show you this new movie he got his hands on and get your opinion. He would watch your reaction and smile, especially if it was a scary movie.

You: That was kinda lame

Billy: Yeah... *flashback to last night when he was hugging his pillow and chewing on his fingernail* Totally!

Billy actually spent a lot of time with you or at your house.

He didn’t like being home.

His folks were always arguing or bossing him around and he wasn’t about that.

Billy would always brush it off when you asked if he was alright but it mattered a lot to him actually.

But he would sooner punch you in the gut before even hinting at the idea that he might be grateful for you.

He began to wish he told you more often than he did when you broke the news that you would be moving.

Billy was angry.

Not at you, he knew it wasn’t your fault.

He was angry at life for taking away what was supposed to be his rock. He didn’t have much and he didn’t need much but without you, what was the point?

But per usual, Billy’s anger got the better of him and he took it out on you. Claiming he didn’t give a damn where you went.

And that’s how things ended.

With Billy angry and you in new town.

Billy hated the way things ended and wished he could apologize but he wouldn’t even know where to find you. That is until he heard a new student had arrived at Woodsboro High.

He heard your name in a few different people's mouths but had failed to actually see you. He was beginning to think there was another person who just shared your name.

But as he came out of third period he just happened to look to his left down the hallway and find just the person he was looking for.

There you were. All grown up and still looking like a hurricane.

A smirk creeping on to his face as you met his gaze. It didn’t take you long to make your way over to him.

“Hey, jackass. You miss me?” It was meant to have more of a punch but he could see the fondness behind your eyes and words.

“You know it.”

Stu has been the class clown his entire life.

Which is actually how you two bumped into each other.

He was always up to some shenanigan or making things as difficult as possible for the poor teacher.

You two officially met each other when you were sent down to the office for something you couldn’t remember even if you tried and he was sitting outside the main office waiting to be called in.

Plopping down next to him and saying how you thought all his little tricks were pretty funny. But you also gave him some tips on how he could improve.

You began trading ideas back and forth, laughing about different things and exchanging stories.

From that day forward you were two peas in a pod.

Raising hell and having fun while doing it. Never a dull moment with you guys in the room.

It got to the point where you had to separated in class.

Which actually ended backfiring on the poor teachers.

Because this meant you guys had to resort to glances from across the room. You were practically able to read each other’s minds with just eye movements and facial expressions.

They basically just helped evolve your friendship to the next level of fuckery.

But you also shared some more tender moments.

Stu used to always confide in you. Expressing his frustrations about always having to act a certain way. It really got under his skin that nobody saw him.

When you told him you understood and that you saw him for who he really was he knew right then and there that you were a keeper.

But life always gets in the way.

Your family had found their dream home in the next town over.

Stu was heartbroken, to say the least.

He even offered to have you live with him. His parents have the money! He can take care of you!

You only laughed and promise that you would come back. You told him he could visit anytime he wanted and he told you the same.

But those sort of plans never work out and you lost contact.

Stu was actually just thinking about old memories he shared with you as he walked into the movie store where Randy worked.

Quickly finding his buddy at the checkout counter helping a customer, he had no problem getting into this person’s space while leaning on the counter to talk to his friend.

But what he didn’t realize was that the person at the counter was no stranger.

“Stu?”

His eyes flicked down to see who called his name and actually jumped when he realized who it was.

Stu took a step back in to get a better look at you and see if it really was you, all the while spreading a goofy grin on his face.

His features fell into a much softer smile as he opened his arms to give you a hug.

The partners in crime of Woodsboro were back in business!

You were actually friends with Emily Cribbs before you were friends Brahms.

Brahms believe it or not only had a few friends.

Emily Cribbs being one of them so it was only natural that you two would end up being friends.

Natural. Everything about his interactions with you seemed natural. Like it was always supposed to be this way, things always seemed right and just when he was around you.

And he felt this way almost immediately about you.

He would often invite you over to play games like hide and seek and listen to music while talking.

Brahms would often read you riddles or give you impossible challenges and you would beat almost all of them and ask him for a new one.

Brahms enjoyed your company more than anyone else’s and couldn’t quite understand why.

Probably because you never patronized or looked at him a certain way.

He found himself wanting to hang out with you more often than not.

But you had other friends. Like Emily Cribbs.

Brahms hated third-wheeling with you and Emily.

It could even be said this is one of the factors that drove Brahms to take his first life.

When you heard about the fire that broke out and snatched the lives of not just one of your friends but two, you were lost.

Even as young as you were you understood you would never see either of them again.

Or so you thought.

Many years had dragged on before you heard the name Heelshire again. After the fire, the couple kept to themselves and rarely went out in public.

You had heard of a nanny position at the Heelshire mansion through a friend of yours named Malcolm and decide to check it out.

Wondering if Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire had another child or adopted after Brahms’ passing.

But of course, it couldn’t be that simple.

You pitied the couple when they showed you the porcelain doll that looked about as close to Brahms as you could get in doll form.

We all cope in different ways you supposed.

The least you can do for your former good friend’s parents is to watch a doll for a few weeks.

But what you didn’t know is that it wasn’t just you and the doll.

The real Brahms had been patiently awaiting your arrival for days.

After his mother announced you would be applying for the nanny position he was ecstatic.

He wondered what you looked like after all these years.

Same smile? Same mischievous ways? Same ability to outsmart him in his own games.

All things he began to wonder even move as his heart hammered in his chest and his eyes moved over your figure from behind the wall.

Oh Y/N, welcome back.

Your father worked at the same slaughterhouse as the Hewitts which is how you and Thomas stumbled into each other.

You first caught a glance at him from a distance while your father was talking to the boss.

His mask is initially what grabbed your attention. Maybe he had it on because of the smell or he didn’t want anything to get on his face.

You didn’t know but you intended to find out.

But this innocent curiosity slowly grew into an interest in the boy and everything he was.

Thomas typically kept to himself and was skittish around anyone who wasn’t his family.

Hell, he was skittish around his family.

So it was some trial and error before you were even able to get a chance to get close to him.

But he did take note of your efforts. Thomas did wonder what it was like to have friends but he would never put himself out there in fear of being rejected.

You were able to catch him by himself hiding out back of the slaughterhouse.

“Hey!”

Thomas whipped his head up to see you jogging over towards him.

Thomas nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw you making your way over. Packing up what he had in his hands and turning to go back into the factory.

“Wait! Please stay! I won’t bite I just want to sit with you.”

Thomas stilled all his movements and waited to see what you were gonna do. You took slow steps over to him like you would a stray dog.

“Whatcha’ working on?” You sat down next to him on an old crate and looked at the piece of leather and needle he held between his fingers.

He didn’t reply. Only opening himself up from his hunched-over position and giving you access to see the piece of leather he was sewing to make a new mask.

“You think you could make me one?”

What would you want with a mask? There’s nothing wrong with you, at least not like Tommy.

He turned to make awkward side-eye contact with you to see if you were serious before giving a shrug. You seemed more than happy with the answer.

You two began to meet each other out back a few times a week where you would talk and Tommy would listen. Or sometimes you would go on walks down the road or through the tall grass.

He found peace in your presence.

No hatred, expectations, or ridicule.

Just peace.

But like most good things for Thomas, it didn’t last.

After your father was injured in an accident at the slaughterhouse you and your family could no longer afford the house you were living in and were forced to move.

There was never a formal goodbye between Thomas and you. Just a ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Hoyt definitely gave him hell for being a bit broken up about you leaving. So he kept all of that buried with the rest of his trauma.

Thomas thought he heard the sound of a car pull up from his hideout in the basement and quickly stomped up the stairs to deal with whatever poor son of a bitch that had wandered in.

Instead of Hoyt and Luda getting ready to nab the visitor, he saw them sitting down at the kitchen table having a conversation with someone he couldn’t see due to just being able to see the back of their head.

“-I’m sorry about what happened to your old man darlin’. He was a good man. Oh! Tommy! Look who it is! Y/N L/N! You remember them right?”

Remember you? How could he forget you?

You turned around in your seat and beamed up at him.

His peace had returned.

#oooga booga #chonker post or whatever #happy monday all! #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #thomas hewitt x reader

[tarotnoob]

Pick a Card: Mini past life reading - Who were you?

If you haven’t already, please take a glance at the piles, 1-3 [1 being on the far left if you’re looking at the screen, blue-ish stone]. Pick based on the pile, stone or number that draws you, scroll down to your pile! :)

Oh, also I should mention I did a custom spread for this, hmm... but my doodle’s lame, so I’ll explain

Tarot 1 plus oracle 1 = Core self (take that how you will)

Tarot 2 plus oracle 2 = What was your career/hobby/status?

Tarot 3 plus oracle 3 - What was your (outer) personality like?

Wisdom of the Oracle cards - Challenges/successes?

Hearts & Hands tarot (black & white) - What did you carry over into this life?

Linestrider tarot - How did you D-word???

I forgot I also shuffled and picked a song for each pile.

Please take this lightly and consider this more an entertainment reading. Enjoy.

PILE 1

Hello, Pile 1!

Core personality: Sun + trickster: As this is your core, this might suggest you were either, literally, a child, probably very mischievous, but in a fun, joyous way or you were a child at heart, one who was not very stuffy, didn’t want things to be taken too seriously and probably weren’t a fan of convention. I think to other people, you were a source of warmth and fun, someone who could make others laugh, played pranks and probably projected an easy-going persona. I really get the sense that even if you were actually a rather serious person, you didn’t want people to see you that way so you put on this show of being a jokester.

Career/hobby/status: Temperance + Companion. My first thought is Siddhartha’s companion at the start of the novel, lol. Temperance has the angel Gabriel on it, it is a card of healing, patience, balance. So far we have two fire cards in a row, so perhaps you were a fire sign, particularly a Sag. Sag are known to be excellent teachers, spiritual leaders, preachers. Companion card says: Loyalty, Tenacity, Unselfishness. I get the sense you were someone that people came to for advice, be it friends or clients. You could’ve been a healer of any kind, a counselor, you were probably seen as an angel to those you helped. 

As a sidenote, I also want to throw out the sense that during this time you might have been very close to or watched closely by spirit guides. It’s possible that a person from this life could be your spirit guide now. To have an angel plus the companion card is interesting. I do feel that whatever you did regularly in life, religion or spirituality was dear to you. It’s also possible you taught religion or history or medicine or you could’ve been a traveling nurse or doctor. Maybe even, like, a nurse during (any) of the wars. If it was recent anyway.

What was your personality like? Five of cups + Student. Five of cups is grief, disappointment, always focusing on what you’ve lost and not what you have. Student says: humility and devotion to knowledge; openness to lifelong learning.

This does give more Sag vibes, someone who was always interested in the meaning of life, the purpose behind things, so I think student (which you very well could’ve been literally) just means a student of life, someone always curious and interested in gaining knowledge. Maybe you were highly educated. I think it’s interesting you had sun as core, but then there’s this sort of downer-side to your personality, but I think anyone (imo) who kind of comes off as super overly cheery on the outside, probably does so as overcompensation. It’s a minor arcana card, too, so it’s nowhere near as strong a part of who you were compared to The Sun. I think you liked to read, I think you liked to be out in nature and travel and felt drawn to learning about other people and cultures. You might have been someone who often traveled with others, a single person in particular (as a companion). Maybe you traveled abroad to study in another country. Maybe you married someone who was from another country and you went back and forth, but you never really had a solid place you landed on. This reminds me of my current north node gemini and sag south node situation (if this was my past life). 

Challenges/Successes in this life: We have 1. A Leg Up 2. Why? 3. Co-create. Well “Why?” fits into the 5 of cups and student, this always searching for new information and answers, how things work, etc... so you had a very curious mind, possibly pragmatic or logical, could’ve been interested in science or at least metaphysics. Co-create is interesting since you had companion. You might’ve worked with others to create something, whether it be research or spiritual writings, the book in “Why” again reminds me of Student. Learning was very important to you in this lifetime. A Leg Up can mean that you might’ve been wealthy or the opposite. You had a “leg up” in life or possibly you were someone who often provided help to others, but this also gives me companion vibes. In two of three of these oracles there’s a sense about children, too. Like the Sun. There’s a baby polar bear and an egg in Co-create. Maybe you were a single parent, maybe your career had to do with teaching or helping children. Maybe that’s something that crossed over into this life. Co-create gives me Magician vibes b/c in the Wild Unknown, the cheetah is on that card and the Magician is also about manifestation and creation (of a spiritual nature), plus this owl gives a sense of wisdom. But with the trickster card, I don’t think you were a very conservative religious type person, this pile has progressive vibes. I think you used the knowledge you discovered to help others. And I think that was your life purpose.

What did you carry over from past life: 10 of pentacles, knight of wands, 10 of cups. Ten of pentacles can be family or security in material resources, wealth, inheritance, ancestors.... in this card it’s a swollen (pregnant) belly so you could’ve kept the tie with children - and your career involves something to do with them, this is how you make money in this life. Knight of Wands has creative vibes, impulsive vibes, adventure vibes, so you still may enjoy traveling. 10 of cups is emotional satisfaction, it can also tie into family, as well. I think your life purpose is probably similar in this life, joy in adventure and learning new skills and probably making money via children or being a manager-level person. I think you’re someone who carried over generosity, a sense of fun, adventure - 10 of cups makes me think of the Sun. You’ve probably been given good opportunities in this life because you helped so many in your last life. Knight of Wands could also be a soulmate (romantic, familial, platonic) from your past life, too. There seems to be a sense of rebelliousness that you kept, too. You have a couple 5s in the first tarot cards, and now we have two 10s, so in the past life your “why” and 5 of cups might’ve been you seeking your purpose, but in this life you have a better sense of who you are and what you’re to be doing, hence the two 10′s, which have more a sense of completion.

As for how you died, well. First to fall out was Emperor - this is boss, father, work, force, control. We could guess and say you were killed by a king or the government or jailed for being a rebellious preacher of a certain faith, but who knows. It was clarified by Hierophant and two of pentacles, so that is interesting as Hierophant is a spiritual leader or institution (church, government) and two of pentacles is juggling or balancing (money, usually or jobs, tasks, material things). You could’ve been persecuted for beliefs or teachings. Sometimes I think if I ask this question they might just be giving me what things were like around the time you died - like you were balancing work as a spiritual leader as your career still by the time you died or that was your major success by the end. Or maybe you were struggling with the notion of your spirituality vs outdated institutions or government (you know kind of like today’s current bullshit).  But, you can read into those cards however you like. Two of pentacles guy reminds me of the Trickster oracle... The Sun has a regal feel, kind of like a baby Emperor, and Hierophant fits Temperance. It’s possible that if you were a fire sign then, you’re earth now since Emperor is fire, the others are earth (Taurus specifically for Hierophant, Emperor is Aries). Either way that for this life, there’s a theme of high spirituality and power, force, drive, career, government. Co-create gave off government vibes, too, because it’s got that building that makes me think of ancient Greece or Rome and all those lovely dead philosopher dudes and Brutus and Julius Caeser and MAXIMUUUUUS. You know, the horse in that k-drama The King, which I loved watching >.>

I really relate to this pile, freaks me out. Okay, good talk, Pile 1! Let me know if you have any thoughts!

Oop and your song: There is a Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths

---

Pile 2

Let’s get down to it!

Who were you at your core? Six of swords + gambler. See, I remember when I looked at your pile when I drew it, and I had this whole story in my head that very likely you were an immigrant who moved somewhere in order to better their life, or possibly you moved with your family or a husband. If you look at six of swords and then five of pentacles and then queen, it’s kind of like a rags to riches story. So at your core, I do think that you are someone who had to leave your home because it was rough there for whatever reason, so you had to leave in order to have a safer or more abundant life. There is a sense of leaving with others on this journey. With the Gambler, rather than literal, I think that this choice was a major risk for you, which is why I definitely get that immigrant vibe. And that you made the journey because you wanted more. So at your CORE, you were a very brave, ambitious, and, what do I want to say... strong? But not physically, not just inner strength but yeah. Perseverance, determination - those are words that would fit you. But definitely you had guts.

Status/career/hobby - well there’s a sense of poverty here which may have to do with your status for the first part of your life and two oracle cards fell out: Queen and Don Juan, so PERHAPS you did move with your spouse or if you came on your own, there’s a sense of charm here. You can see Queen of Wands popped out later, so whatever career you picked up and were able to make success out of had to do with this charm, whether you were a hot babe or a sexy dude or an attractive whomever, you were able to use these qualities to lift yourself out of poverty, I think. It’s not like I pulled the prostitute card (though nothing wrong with sex work), just saying I don’t think you were using physical charms. I think you were a charismatic, willful, charming person who could probably charm your way with anyone and get people to help you do anything you ask, which is why you end up with the Queen of Wands, who is a lot like that. Damsel too (and this can speak for any gender), says “understanding the nature of healthy romance, inspires you to rely on yourself.” So, again you were very strong, you took this journey or whatever risk by yourself, you made your own way using your own personal charms and became a figurative queen. Maybe you also lifted your status through a healthy romantic relationship/partnership, too - since the first two cards indicate other people being involved - doesn’t have to be. You’re basically a rags to riches success story.

Successes and challenges: The tribe, Between Worlds, All that Glitters.

Between worlds could be that as an immigrant, the customs or language might have been a challenge at first or simply the journey of getting from home to another city or country. The Tribe could be the people you came with. I know the immigrant story of someone coming to the U.S. is “cliche”, but in my mind I actually see someone of Irish descent coming over to the States, but it can be any kind of story from anywhere to anywhere and not even recent. But again, look at Between Worlds, how it goes from dark to bright and the flamingo is wearing a crown. The Tribe could be leaving home, a poor village, having to part from family, maybe even at a young age. All That Glitters could be about your (financial) success or your motivation. I can’t say if having money made you happy, but it’s what you wanted, it’s why you left.

As for what carried over, 8 of pentacles is usually about a specific craft or work skill, possibly education, 9 of swords is anxiety. In your past life you were poor and worried about money and how to get it, so I think that carried over. You have anxiety about having enough money, about finding the right job that will make you money, worries about money in general. This might be that money wasn’t the be all end all in your last life or maybe you were greedy, so you might constantly have issues with money, maybe even a gambling problem or an obsession with material things or money. Everyone worries about money. And if you were able to do it in a past life, it’s still in you to do it now, but maybe your purpose is different in this life.

As for death: Magician, three of wands. Deaths are hard to make out, sometimes I think it’s just your state of mind or what was going on at time of death as opposed to cause of death. Magician is definitely someone who can manifest their dreams and 3 of wands is travel/progress/expansion. You were probably still trying to expand your wealth or assets at the time of death. Looking at the image on 3 of wands, you might’ve always been looking over your shoulder, though, waiting for the other shoe to drop and that anxiety about losing everything you gained and starting over from nil carried over into this life.

What do you think? Let me know if anything resonates!

And your song: Heartlines by Broods (interesting since you got the heart-shaped rose quartz for your pile). More interesting when you read their wiki and you notice keywords from this pile like “royals” and “peasants” and traveling around on tour and how Broods name is related to family (tribe). >.> Anyway!!! Done reaching with that, still a good song, good band.

---

Pile 3

Always so extra, pile 3. Why did I let you have extra Linestrider, extra archetype, extra extra Heart & Hands. Tbh it’s like - if the cards fell out, I let you have them because, well, you died, so - seemed polite thing to do.

Core self: Six of pentacles + Engineer + Seeker. Interesting. Six of pentacles can be about generosity, giving or receiving help (you can be either the poor folks or the one able to give money), but it can be balance, too, fairness, equality, it’s partner in arcana is The Lovers card as a six. Lovers can be about harmony, choice, communication. With Engineer and Seeker and this need to give/receive (practical) things - there is a sense of an innovator or an inventor, someone who gave something to (humanity) or wanted to... Engineer says creative energy but I think this can be anyone who has an idea of any nature and then can take that idea and turn it into a practical enterprise. You’d have to be quite smart, quite innovative, but then again this could also be a traveling salesperson, haha. I sense a very earth-fire driven person. There’s a thirst for knowledge and a practicality here that gives off science and math vibes and a desire to do something that has a major impact on others. Like, astrophysicist or astronaut or any of those eccentric rich people we have now like Elon Musk or sir Richard Branson... people who are geniuses in their own right but aren’t quite... grounded in reality because they’re always floating somewhere in the ether.That starter energy people like that had at the beginning of their career is what I want you to focus on, not what they have become like. Innovative, a desire to change, create progress.

Career, hobby, status - 8 of swords (sword of imprisoned by your own chaotic or anxious thoughts, being pessimistic, cynical, paranoid) that kind of mentality fits with 8 of swords. We also have Artist. So, you could’ve been an artist of any nature but I also see this as entrepreneur or idea person still. That this overabundance of mental energy needed to be let out in some way and so it came out through this self-expression. That fits since the first cards with all that gung ho change the world innovative must do things energy is stuck inside your head and you’ve got to get rid of it somehow, so while you were able to express it through whatever nature, there’s a deep sense of... overthinking. You could’ve been greatly paranoid once you did find success or in fear of someone stealing ideas or maybe if you were a painter or writer or musician, some sort of mental pain was expressed through art (example: Kurt Cobain). Putting aside my nonsense about science focused eccentric bajillionaires what I really want to express is you were someone that had a drive to do something with your life and had the talent to back it up. It gives off very Chariot vibes. But with that drive for something more, there was some deep-rooted mental stuff going on. For personality we have ace of swords, again about mental stuff, so you were likely very intelligent, if you weren’t a good communicator you liked to talk a lot, I think there was so much always going on inside your head... but then we have Fool, right. Fool says fearlessly revealing emotion. Helping people laugh at absurdity and hypocrisy. This like the dark attribute of the Engineer in a way - I don’t know that you were a person who fearlessly revealed emotion as I have no cup cards, just pentacles and swords... so I feel the oracle is calling you out a bit, but it’s also possible that you were a writer or reporter who critiqued the government or flaws in any cultural or societal institution...  you called out people who were fools, or in some ways, you, yourself were the fool. Or you wore a mask in some way because you were disconnected from your emotions. Are you someone who hides your emotions now, or no? Are you more intellect driven? My dad’s an engineer and as brilliant as he is, let’s just say... engineers... lack common sense. On a grand scale, which is how I see the above eccentric modern genius types I referred to - when you are given brilliance and innovation from the universe, the universe tends to short change you in the area of common sense or self-awareness or awareness of others. But ace of swords is also about truth and honesty, so some of you revealed truth about others and some hid your own (emotional) truth from yourself and others. Obviously multiple people are picking pile 3 so it’s going to work in different ways. If you’re a pragmatic person - then take that route, if you’re a free spirited artist type, take that route. But either way I get this sense that you were very driven to have people - or should I say thrust your pov onto other people. You needed to be understood very badly, and I’m not sure if you accomplished that, but that’s the vibe I get. When I think of someone like that, I do imagine someone who has heavy anxiety, is often lonely, feels isolated, feels that others are against them. Paranoid, depressed. Sarcastic, sharp with their words, a bit egotistical. 

Successes and challenges: Time for a nap, to be fair, here and now.  So to be fair, we have this sense of balance, honesty, truth which matches with ace of swords and the fool talking about hypocrisy, it could also be about being quick to judge others or being unfair in some ways. If you were a person about pointing out the truth, you could’ve been a journalist I said or an opinion writer, commentator, or scientist, someone in the legal system or government. Really I get the sense of being so pragmatical, a need to seem objective or see yourself as being fair and objective, but I find this energy to be very pushy and bull-headed, as well. Very opinionated person. This could resonate if you’re like this in this life, maybe you’ve been told your bossy or a steamroller. That’s not always bad, ambition takes something like that, but at the cost of bowling over others and always thinking you’re right. Here and now is about living in the present, take a nap gives me similar vibes. i think your mind was always going going going and you often didn’t take a rest and were too focused on the future instead of just taking the time to chill out and breathe. You probably made people tired because you’d be pacing or always doing something. I see Steve Jobs or Bill Gates. You probably missed out on a lot of joyous, still moments...  in this life I wonder if your lesson will be about slowing down. You’re probably still antsy and driven with a lot of energy but the purpose may about being more present.... that’s not what this question was about but I’m getting a lot more visuals from these cards in this pile than the others. There’s definitely a call, a need for calm and stillness... balance. Between intellect and emotions.

As for what carried over: I think first cards to fall out were ace of pentacles and page of cups. so there’s a sense of a new beginning, new opportunity, new life, new job... and a creative drive. So again this ability to take creative energy and make it practical, and we have chariot (drive in career, control, ambition); High Priestess can be wisdom, spirituality, subconscious; knight of cups (creativity, sensitivity)...  it’s a lot of water now when before it was all swords... so in the past life you may have been air or earth or some sort of combo... and now we have all water and one earth... pisces, cancer in particular. So that can be good intuition, spiritual wisdom, lot sof creativity here or at least more sensitivity, i do feel you probably can manifest well because of the ace of p... i feel like you can take ideas and make them a reality... it’s interesting because it’s the same type of energy except in a total different element, so maybe in the past life where you were more conservative in some ways in terms of what you put that energy into... and i guess i also mean maybe more... scientific or mathematic or... technology... in this life, that drive to express and to be understood and to change is there but it’s like if you were a scientist in the past life and you made some groundbreaking discovery, in this life maybe you’d be the first person to paint in this whole new ja;fjds; whatever you call it, make up your own new genre like wow surrealism is now a thing but you invent something else... or if you’re in a band suddenly you’ve created a new genre or music or an entirely original way of expressing something else, and still deeply rooted in the purpose is a deep need to be understood and I’m not sure that you’re rushing around any less but you seem more in touch with your emotions in this life... more in touch with your intuition... more in touch with your divine fem... it may be that in past life you were male and this life are or identify as more feminine...

but you’re still pretty fucking intense and probably tire out your friends, lol.

How did you die? Like I told other piles, I don’t think it tells you cause of death, I think it tells you where you were at... as in what you accomplished or felt at the time your life ended and I do think it’s possible that feeling toward the end can carry over as a (wish) to the next life.

We have the tower, nine of wands, ten of cups, seven of wands...

the tower is a sort of spiritual upheaval...  it’s a mars card and i get a lot of mars energy mixed in here with that drive, we have nine of wands which is perseverance or a kind of wariness... ten of cups is emotional contentment or family, love type emotional stuff... seven of wands is defensiveness, also a bit of perseverance, standing up for what you believe in... so there’s a lot of strong mars/fire energy here and it seemed to have probably evaporated this ten of cups... so i do think that there was a desire for love or emotional contentment, but there might not have been time for it because you were always so busy going going doing doing and... getting tired and defending your position or way of thinking or ideas....  I think you worked really hard and pushed pushed... maybe you had to sacrifice love or emotional connections to pursue that and that’s what left you a bit... lacking in the end.... or another way to read it if I don’t look at elemental stuff...  maybe you were fulfilled by your work even if it exhausted you and you worked yourself to death...  you liked being in charge and at the top... but...  it still (for me) makes it seem like there was something lacking in the water/cups department - love, emotion... and ironically in this life, everything that carried over transmuted into... water... everything you lacked or were deprived of in the previous life you have now in spades.... 

it’s almost like going from a conservative ceo 80 hours a week neglect family type of person to.... a liberal vegan boho starving artist...  but you’re both really passionate, driven and need to shove your opinions or beliefs onto others, lol.

Or maybe you’ve always been a creative type of soul but just driven to make that your passion, purpose, career... your very focused way of being understood. I imagine in all lives a similar story has played out... very intense person who always knows what THEY want to do but... doesn’t always consider others.

But if we do always consider others, we might never rise to the top but... brutally making our way to the top... at some point, someone’s going to cut you down and you fall from the tower...

Pile 3, really you’re very special and the world needs people like you to push the boundaries of innovation in all fields or else we’d get bored. I just worry for the people in your life you abandon or step over on your way to the top as well as yourself because life is more than.... notches on your ambition bedpost, but that opinion is the product of my own chart. I could’ve very well been like that in a previous life, too, and now I’m slacker ahahahahaa.

.... thanks for reading!!!!!! Chaotic pile 3, friends!!!

By the way, your song is November Lights, their song Talk

“I want to sing i want to dance, i want to do it all” yeah that sounds right lol. in this life anyway.

#pick a card #past life reading #tarot #free tarot reading #oracle reading #tarot reader #tarot life #tarot spread #tarot community #past life

[ieattaperecorders]

Something's Different About You Lately - Epilogue: Borrowed Time

Life goes on, impossibly.

Read on Ao3

---

Martin shifted the bag of groceries in his arms as he climbed the stairs, still feeling a bit nervous.

The dinner had been Jon's idea – his O&M instructor was covering kitchen skills, and he'd thought it would be fun for the two of them to try making something together. The recipe had sounded a little elaborate to Martin, who'd protested that he didn't cook much, but Jon promised that it wasn't beyond them. He added that Martin was ‘perfectly capable' in the kitchen anyway, and said it with such prim, knowing confidence that Martin hadn't even bothered to ask. Before he knew it, he was writing down a list of ingredients to bring over.

He supposed that was just going to keep happening, Jon telling him things about himself. It was . . . strange. Sometimes it was endearing, sometimes just annoying. Occasionally it made him feel sentimental and a little bit sad in a way he couldn't put his finger on.

The door to the flat opened after a moment of knocking, and he smiled as Jon appeared.

"Hi Jon, it's Martin," he said. He'd read online it was polite to say your name, to not assume the other person will recognize your voice. "I've got the groceries."

"I know it's you, Martin." His tone was light and a little condescending, and Martin felt heat rise to his ears. "Come on inside. You know where the kitchen is."

Martin slipped past him and set down the bag, pulling things out and arranging them on the counter as Jon followed him to the kitchen.

"The store was out of chili paste," he mentioned.

Jon shrugged. "We'll improvise, then."

"If you say so."

Jon began taking out cookware, placing things down wherever he found counter space. "Do anything interesting today?" he asked, over the clatter of pans.

"Not especially. Filled out a few applications, then took a walk," he said. "Met a really friendly dog in the park."

"Flattered that you tore yourself away to come here."

"Wasn't by choice, her owner wouldn't let me keep her."

"How unreasonable."

It was weird, not having to worry so much about money. Not that Martin was complaining of course, but there was still a voice in his head telling him he was being too slow and selective in his job search, that it was lazy of him. And he felt anxious dipping into the new funds too much.

He'd just about gone into conniptions when Sasha told him what she'd done while she'd been fiddling with Elias's computer. Embezzlement might not have been an escalation when they were already committing arson, but they could still get caught, and wouldn't a financial windfall point a lot of suspicion towards them? But she kept assuring him that it was untraceable, some hidden fund Elias had, ready to be drawn on by anyone with the account information. The running theory was that he'd been keeping it for his next identity, which . . . yeah, the less Martin thought about that, the better.

Fear of discovery aside, he couldn't deny it was nice having a buffer like this. There was space he'd never had before to think about where he wanted to be, what he wanted to do with himself. And with the bills taken care of, Jon could focus his time on recovering. At the urging of his O&M teacher (and some amount of prodding on Martin's end) he'd even started talking to a counselor every few weeks. It was ostensibly just about handling the emotions that come up with sudden, traumatic vision loss, and he doubted Jon would be discussing the more exotic traumas he'd been through. Still. It was probably good he had something like that.

They went about the business of prepping ingredients, talking idly about food, things they'd done in the past few days, updates from Tim and Sasha. Martin's initial nerves already dissolving into the steady flow of conversation. There was something comfortable, he reflected, in being around someone who was so comfortable with him.

"Would you mind--" Jon frowned, fiddling with the hob on the stove. "I've got this, I'm fairly sure. Just . . . make sure I keep the pan centered?"

"Sure."

He came to stand behind Jon, watching over his shoulder as he set the carefully oiled pan on the stove and turned on the heat. Martin was a terribly distracted spotter, his attention frequently straying from the pan to look at Jon's face, pinched slightly in concentration. There was a single bead of sesame oil on his cheek, and it made his intensely serious expression that much more charming.

Despite his concerns, Jon had the pan well handled as he heated the oil and added in the aromatics. Martin only noticed him drifting once, the flames going high on one side of the pan.

"A little left," he advised.

In a moment of impulse and bravery, Martin curved an arm around him – placing a hand on his elbow, then running it down his arm to cover Jon's hand with his own, guiding the pan carefully into place. Jon leaned back, fitting the curve of his body into Martin's and sighing deeply.

"God, I've missed this," Jon exhaled. "Just . . . cooking dinner with you. All these little domestic things."

His voice was so unselfconsciously fond. It made Martin dizzy, just how easily affection poured out of him.

In hindsight, at least part of Jon's strange, awkward behavior around Martin had been a result of him holding back, wary of letting his feelings show. He never held anything back now -- his demeanor going from nonchalant or haughty to unbelievably soft and loving at the slightest prompting. It still took Martin by surprise, inspiring so much unreserved affection in someone. It wasn't anything he'd usually associate with himself. It was strange, and lovely, and at times made him feel almost frighteningly powerful.

He leaned forward, kissing the soft skin just beside Jon's ear. Jon smiled, holding his pose for a moment before gradually returning his attention to the pan, shaking it gently to move the vegetables around. Martin kept a hand on his, now fully for the sake of touch rather than any pretense of assistance, letting Jon's movements guide them both.

"Did we cook together in that cabin a lot?" he asked.

Jon nodded. "It was one of a handful of things we could do that felt . . . well, like a date, I suppose. We couldn't really go anywhere since we were lying low. I mean, we could walk around the area, isolated as it was, but trips to the village were all short and functional. So preparing something elaborate together made an evening feel special," he smirked. "You used to get defensive, too, just like today . . . saying you didn't really cook, like you were trying to lower my expectations."

"In my defense, I never said I didn't cook, just . . . ." Not since mum left , he thought. "Not for a while."

"To be honest, we were both at a disadvantage in that kitchen," Jon continued. "There weren't a lot of modern conveniences there. The power came from a generator, and the stove was an ancient, wood-burning thing that neither of us quite knew what to do with at first. Took a lot of trial and error before we really managed."

"Sounds cozy."

"Oh yes. So cozy we almost suffocated ourselves before we figured out how to adjust the vents."

Martin smiled, listening to Jon describe the little kitchen in that place. The cabin in Scotland had supposedly been a remote safehouse the two of them laid low in, but the way Jon talked about it sometimes it might as well have been a romantic holiday retreat. He made it sound so nice that Martin once idly suggested they go see it someday. Jon had gone tense and quiet at that, had shaken his head and said softly that they had to stay far, far away from that place. That there was nothing good that happened there now.

Jon was mostly open about the things he remembered. But sometimes "open" meant he'd easily speak at length about something, and other times "open" meant he'd answer your questions with short, one-sentence explanations, volunteering nothing unless pushed. And anything about the police officers he'd apparently worked with fell solidly into the second category.

Sometimes it seemed like they might have been friends, but Jon was always adamant that no one ever try to contact them. Daisy in particular seemed hard to talk about. Martin did know about the coffin. Jon had told him in a soft, emotional voice how another Martin had stepped from his cloud of isolation to set out tape recorders calling him home, how it had been one of very few things that let Jon believe he hadn't given up on him yet. And he knew something had been different about Daisy after the coffin, some sinister force like the one that had kept them at the Institute had loosened its hold on her.

He also knew that Jon was terrified of her, that he said again and again she was too dangerous to go near. That something about her made him sad -- and, Martin suspected, guilty, though he wasn't sure why. It was a topic he'd decided not to push . . . if Jon ever wanted to talk more about it, he would in his own time.

There were other things, things closer to home for Martin that Jon had hesitated over. Once while he was recounting the events of those years he'd paused mid-sentence. Stammered that it wasn't all supernatural in nature and some of it may still happen, and was he sure he wanted to know everything? Martin imagined Jon thought he was being subtle, but it wasn't a hard guess.

He told Jon not to give him the date. It was obviously going to be within the next couple of years, there was no spitting out that apple of knowledge. But he didn't want to be able to mark it on his calendar.

It shouldn't have felt like news, that his mum was going to die soon. Shouldn't have been the uncomfortable weight in his chest that it was. She was ill, of course it was coming, it had been coming for a while, hadn't it? But maybe that was the problem. It had been ‘any day now' for such a long time, ‘any day' had stopped feeling like a reality. And he still wasn't sure what to do with this information, if it really changed anything. Should he try to get some sort of closure? How did you make the most of the time you had left with a person who refuses to see you?

Martin hadn't asked Jon how much he knew about his mum, that just wasn't a conversation he was eager to have. But the careful, hesitant way Jon talked around the subject suggested . . . something, at least. Just like how the gentle, quiet tone he got when he talked about the Lonely told Martin more than he really wanted to have explained.

There was only one thing Jon flatly refused to tell him about, and that was whatever Elias had done to him on the day of the Unknowing. When pushed, Jon had gone quiet for a while, then said he didn't remember. It had been a lie, and a bad one, and both of them knew it. But it was clear there was no point in asking for more.

"You like pizzelles, don't you?"

Jon's voice snapped Martin to the present. With a last squeeze of Martin's hand, he turned off the flame, moved away from the stove and over to the pantry.

"Um, dunno?" Martin said, pulling his thoughts back together. "Never tried them."

"Really?" Jon frowned, pausing halfway to the cabinet door. Then he shrugged. "Well, no matter. You will."

Martin rolled his eyes. Jon spoke with so much more authority than anyone deserved to hold over another person's cookie preferences, and he couldn't help feeling contrary.

"No. You stepped on a butterfly last week and set off a chain of events that forever changed my feelings on pizzelles, I hate them now."

"That's all right," Jon said, popping open the plastic package and arranging the cookies on a plate. "If you don't want these, there's also canned peaches for dessert."

"Oh, don't you dare --"

Jon snickered, picking out a broken piece of one of the large, thin cookies and holding it out, just short of passing it into Martin's mouth. With an annoyed grunt, Martin leaned forward, taking a bite.

Damn it. It was really, really good.

---

Jon sank into the couch, pleasantly full and a little bit tired. He leaned back and listened to the sound of running water coming from the next room.

Martin had insisted on doing the dishes, on the basis that Jon had done "all the real work" of cooking. He wasn't sure that was true, but didn't argue. Just asked that he leave everything in the drainboard when he was finished so Jon could put it away later. He knew he'd be frustrated for hours if the dishes weren't where he expected them to be.

There were so many frustrations in his life now. His O&M instructor had promised he'd learn new ways to move through the world, that in time the frustrations would be fewer and fewer, and he'd find himself capable of nearly everything he'd done before the loss of his sight. Jon believed her, but it didn't make the prospect of getting there any less daunting. Nor did it make the learning process any easier.

The worst were the things his instructor would never understand, that no resource or guidebook would mention. The dread that gripped him when he became disoriented and found a door where he wasn't expecting one. The phantom tickles on his body that prompted him to pat himself down for spiders again and again.

Still. He was alive. The others were freed from the institute, and he was there with them, to struggle and to mourn and to continue on.

A part of him would always fear it had been a mistake. That the Web, or the Eye, or some other power still had plans for him that would reach apotheosis someday. Maybe he saw the fear as vigilance, as though something was waiting for him to feel safe so that it could rip that security from him. And as long as he never allowed himself to be truly, entirely at ease, that day would never come.

Irrational, perhaps. But it was so hard to tell anymore which irrational fears were truly irrational, and which would one day manifest with teeth and claws.

Even if nothing ever came for him, they had only bought the world some time. One day, maybe soon, someone would figure it out and attempt a ritual again. Maybe there would be others out there who would catch it in time, postponing the end over and over, forever. Or maybe someone would do it next week, and Jon would be plunged along with everyone else into unspeakable suffering until Terminus claimed them all. He could follow Gertrude's path if he chose, devote his life to stopping rituals at the cost of everything he cared for. Even then one could slip past him, come from someplace he hadn't been watching, or had been made not to notice. At some point he was going to have to find a way to live with that knowledge.

He'd work on it. But for the moment . . . .

The sound of running water stopped. Jon smiled, scooting to make room on the couch, feeling the cushions sink and shift as they took the weight of another person. With a hmm that came out with more whine to it than he'd wanted, Jon found Martin's arm and tugged it towards him. With a quiet laugh, Martin obliged, leaning into him and resting his head against his chest.

"Better," Jon arranged their limbs more comfortably. Martin's hands were still cold, and he smelled faintly of dish soap.

"Glad to hear it."

Jon knew Martin found it amusing, how clingy he was. The first time he'd commented on it had been profoundly embarrassing. Part of it was just the way Jon was, but he also remembered the days after the Lonely. The skittish, uncertain moments of contact, the times when Martin stiffened at his touch but whimpered when he pulled away. The other days, when they could barely let go of one another, when Jon would plant himself beside Martin or wrap his arms over his shoulders, and he would relax into it, sighing with release. Both of them too grateful for the fragile miracle of each other's touch to consider breaking contact.

This Martin didn't remember those days, and if he ever sensed anything desperate or reverent in the way Jon clung, he didn't comment on it. Still, even if he found it funny, he didn't seem to mind how ardently Jon held on to him.

Jon moved a hand into the space between Martin's shoulder blades and scratched down his spine, the particular way he used to like. Jon felt him shiver with pleasure under the soothing contact, and a powerful warmth spread through him.

"God . . ." Martin whispered, "you really know everything about me, don't you?"

Jon snorted. "Hardly. In a very real way, we barely had time to get to know each other. And when we did, well . . . it was close by necessity. It was intimate, and intense. But there's still a great deal I've no idea about."

"You were never tempted to use those powers of omniscience to look inside my head?"

"Constantly," Jon said, with great seriousness. "But I never did. I promised."

Martin went quiet at that. Maybe Jon's reply had been a little intense, or maybe Martin hadn't actually realized that looking inside his head had been a possibility when he'd asked the question as a joke.

"Oh," he said eventually. "Um . . . good?"

"I have picked up a few things," Jon continued, speaking with quiet and fond admiration. "For example . . . I know you'd like a pet, but your landlord won't allow them so you keep plants instead. You can't say no to panhandlers. You have a favorite hoodie that you only wear when you're sad and need the comfort. You like old, careworn furniture, and rainy days, and sitcoms that were made before you were born. You're kind to people who aren't kind to you, but you never forget the unkindness."

"Wow. Okay," Martin made a soft noise, shifting in his arms, voice tight and quiet. "Okay. Y-You're, uh, probably going to kill me if you keep that up, you know."

"Trust me, you've survived worse."

He felt Martin move a little higher, slotting himself beside Jon and giving him a tight squeeze. Jon grinned as the breath was pushed out of him, all twenty-four of his ribs contracting at the assault.

That was another difference, one of dozens of subtle changes Jon couldn't keep his mind from analyzing. Martin wasn't ungentle, exactly. But he hugged Jon more tightly, shoved or poked him when he was annoyed, whereas the Martin in his memories had held back a little. Been more mindful of his strength, as if wary he might handle him too roughly. It had been subtle, a thing Jon hadn't even noticed until he had something to contrast it against.

It made sense, he supposed. The other Martin had seen Jon limp back to the institute with fresh wounds and new scars one too many times. This one didn't have to have those images in his head.

There were some things that were lost between them, Jon knew that. Memories too small and simple to explain, questions he couldn't ask anymore. Moments they would never share, both good and bad. But there was also so much they had gained. This Martin hadn't had an easy life, not by any measure. But he hadn't had to watch helplessly as the people around him died or disappeared or became monstrous. Hadn't been lost in grinning corridors, or attacked by Hopworth's hooligans, or made to feel the heat of the endless tenement fire. And for that, Jon was so, so grateful.

"You look thoughtful," Martin commented.

"Mmm," Jon sat quietly for a while sifting through his thoughts before speaking. "We should go to a movie sometime. When I'm up for going out out."

"That sounds less fun for you than me . . . ."

"Depends on the movie. I could listen, even without description. And I'd enjoy being with you," he said. "Or maybe a concert? Though I don't really know what sort of music you like . . . ."

"Really? There's actually a blank spot in your catalogue of Martin trivia?" he said sarcastically. "Surprised it never came up."

"You only ever used headphones at work," Jon bristled, feeling oddly defensive about it, "and we obviously couldn't bring our devices to the cabin. Too traceable."

"Hmm," there was a teasing smile in Martin's voice. "Don't know if I want to tell, now. Feels like I've got a secret."

"Oh, except . . . there was one song? I don't know the lyrics, but you used to hum it all the time in the cabin."

"What was it called?"

"I didn't actually ask. It sounded nice, though. Maybe we could listen to it together. . . "

"How'd it go, then?"

He hummed the tune from memory. It came easily to mind, connected as it was with images of Martin sipping tea or wiping down a countertop, a bright, easy smile on his face. After a moment, Martin burst out laughing.

"That's -- that's from a soap commercial!"

". . . What?"

"Floors and doors, walls and halls, Liquid Lather cleans them all," he spoke-sang along with the tune. "It was probably just stuck in my head."

Jon frowned, mildly disappointed. "Well. It sounded nice when you were humming it, anyway."

"God. If you want I can serenade you with an insurance advert sometime."

"No thank you."

"Or we could listen to your album from uni," he pushed, the satisfied smile in his voice growing.

"Thankfully we never recorded anything," Jon grinned ruefully, "so that's lost to time."

"Bet you could still sing some of it."

"Try me the next time I'm not expecting to live through the night."

Martin made a displeased sound at that, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry that you always have to come over here," Jon said. "I should probably be making more of an effort to get out of the flat. But it's so much still, even with a guide. I can do it if I have to, but I can't relax."

"C'mon . . . you know I don't mind, and even if I did it wouldn't be something to apologize for. You're going at your own pace."

"Suppose I'm just impatient with myself. It feels absurd, I've walked through a London warped by unfathomable terror, but now ordinary city life is overwhelming. I think I never understood how many people there are on every block until each one became another unpredictable factor to be aware of on my way to the damn corner store," he sighed. "It may be a while before I'm up for anything like a concert."

"It's alright," Martin gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm good at waiting."

For a moment Jon's mind went to a dark, creaking bedroom, air heavy with dust and thick with terror. It's all right. I'm good at waiting. The same phrasing, almost the same tone. Maybe it was to be expected, little parallels like this. Given a person's linguistic habits and enough time it was probably inevitable, but every time something like it happened it floored Jon in the most wonderful way. Some small but meaningful part of the man he loved reflecting and echoing back at him.

If the world didn't end, if he didn't dissolve into spiders or die at the hands of some unfathomable terror, Jon swore someday he'd find the words for how moments like that made him feel. And if he had any courage left in him, he'd tell Martin about it.

"Though, as long as we're talking about that," Martin said, "I've been thinking . . . ."

"In general?" Jon teased.

"Sort of. I've been reading some stuff about adjusting to vision loss? And I know this is fast – well, maybe not fast to you – but it seems to me like it's probably easier, especially at first, if you've got a sighted person staying with you . . ."

He felt himself breathe in sharply, and Martin's words came faster, his tone careful.

"Not - not to do everything for you, of course! I know you can do things yourself. Just to make little things easier, and – you know, that aspect aside it – it might just be nice –"

"Yes," Jon said decisively.

"Because it isn't really just the vision thing – I mean, it's alright if you do need help but it's also alright if you don't – but there's other reasons – "

"My answer is yes."

A faint laugh came out of Martin and he slapped Jon's chest lightly. "Stop agreeing and let me finish."

"Sorry."

"I'm not suggesting moving in. That would be too fast, at least for me," he said. "I'd want to keep my own place, and I'd probably still spend some time there."

"Of course," Jon nodded solemnly. "Perfectly reasonable to want some space of your own."

"Yeah. But if it works for you, I thought I might get a bag together, y'know, just sort of stay for a while? I – hell, I wouldn't, uh, mind the excuse to cook more dinners with you? And I slept better than I had in a while the night I stayed over here."

"So did I."

"I just think it might be nice. If you think so too, of course."

There was a pause as Jon waited, not sure if Martin had more to say. After the silence had dragged on for a while, he spoke up. "Am I allowed to say yes now?"

Martin laughed, nodding against Jon's chest.

"Then yes. I'd be very happy to have you stay here with me."

"Cool. Cool . . . " Martin exhaled. " . . . I love you."

"And I love you."

"More than I'll ever know?"

There was a teasing smile in Martin as he echoed the words Jon had said to him back in the tunnel. Jon was quiet for a moment.

He'd meant those words when he'd said them. It hadn't been a romantic turn of phrase. He'd confessed his feelings in that moment with the understanding that Martin would never be able to see how deep they ran. That he could tell Martin he loved him, but he'd never be able to show him that. He wouldn't have the chance. He found Martin's cheek with a hand, turned his face towards him, then bent down and kissed him, once.

"No," he said. "Not if I can help it."

#tma fanfic #tma #jonmartin #food mention

[tinyboxxtink]

“Warrior”

Awwwwww SHIT. She cannot be stopped, folks. 

So I thought about making this an Epilogue to “Helpless”, but I MIGHT turn it into a sequel, if that’s something you guys want. I have so many ideas!!! 

Anyway, here is a “Helpless” SEQUEL ONE SHOT as of now. 

TBH I love it so much. I was listening to the song and I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head. OH RIGHT, if you haven’t heard Demi Lovato’s “Warrior”, listen to it now. And/or as you read this. I listened to it the entire time I wrote it. Hell I’m still listening to it. LOL.

“Please, Liv?” 

Barba was begging his best friend, on his knees in his own office. 

“This is ridiculous, Rafa. You’re a grown man. Stop begging,” 

“Then promise you’ll do it,” 

“I..wha...WHY do you need me to take your girlfriend out?”

“Look she just went through a traumatic event--” 

“Um it was pretty traumatic for me too, if you couldn’t tell,” 

“Right. I know...Liv, you know I love you,” He put a hand on her shoulder. “But she ALSO lost the one person in the world that she’s had for most of her life. She has no one now,” 

“She has you, obviously,” 

“Well yeah sure she has me, but I--I can’t be her whole world. She needs friends. And she doesn’t meet anyone because she had to quit her job at Fazzoli’s. So she’s just been my Personal Assistant for the past month until she can find something else, and she’s just…. around, ALL the time,” He explained the past month of your lives.

“Sounds like you’re getting sick of your little hustler,”  Liv chuckled. 

“DON’T, call her that.” Rafael warned her. 

“Why? It’s what she did,” Liv scoffed.

“Olivia...look,” Rafael rubbed his temples. “You are my best friend in the entire world, and I love you. But you have GOT to let this little...grudge against Y/N go,” 

“Grudge? What-- She--” Olivia protested, but Rafael cut her off.

“Whatever happened, it’s in the past. We’re putting it behind us, and so should you,” 

“Whatever….” Olivia rolled her eyes.

“If you want to keep being my best friend,” 

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a plea, once again,” He took her hand. “If you truly love me, you will help me help her,”  He gave her those puppy dog eyes, the ones she could never resist, even if she wanted to. 

“Oh that is DIRTY, Barba,” She pushed him away with her hand over his face. 

“Again though, I don’t know what you want me to do. She obviously doesn’t think we’re going to be friends, and all of my friends are your friends-- also, they’re all adults,”

 “She’s an adult,”

“....Sure she is,”

“OLIVIA,”

“Okay okay, I just...Oh you know what, I could ask Lucy if her and her friends want to come,” She picked up her phone and flipped through it.

“See? You’re brilliant,” Rafael smiled.

“Whoa there counselor, I’m not sure how excited she is going to be to drag her friends out with her BOSS, her friends and your pet---girlfriend,”  She quickly corrected herself, but Barba heard it anyway. 

“You’re unbelievable,” He sighed. 

“Look I said I would ask her, I didn’t say it would be happy about it,”

“Alright, alright,” He nodded. “Thank you, Liv,”  he gave her a small hug then she turned to walk out. 

“Don’t make me regret this,” She eyed him. Just then, you came up behind her in the doorway.

 “Regret what?” 

 “Uh...my lunch plans, Rafael suggested a place I haven’t tried,” Olivia pushed her hair behind her ears nervously, looking everywhere around you but your eyes. Classic lying tells, but you really didn’t want to deal with her stuff right now so you left it alone.

“Oh, well have fun detective!” You gave her a cheery smile as she walked out of the office. You handed Rafael one of the two coffees you had brought in.

“Fuel for my baby,” You smiled, kissing him on the cheek. You could see the screaming behind his eyes when he smiled back at you. 

“...What?” you raised an eyebrow.

“What, what?” he asked, acting oblivious.

“Rafael, you know I know something is off,” 

“Wha… no, not--” he started but you gave him a knowing look. “You said you weren’t going to do that anymore, Y/N,” he was suddenly stern, referring to using your ‘superpower’. 

“And I told you, I can’t turn it off!” You reminded him, you had said it in your very first conversation. 

“Okay but you can...y’know pretend you don’t see things,” he pointed out.

“Or, you could just tell me why your eyes are screaming for help right now,” you crossed your arms.

“Wha--that--Good lord,” He sighed, taking a swig of his coffee. 

“I’m around too much, aren’t I?” You finally stated the obvious, tired of ignoring it anymore.

“No! No no no…” He put a hand to your face. Overly repetitive denial, meant yes. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I don’t have anywhere else to be,” You bit your lip and looked down at the floor. You hated being this helpless, relying on him for everything. Ever since he had left the hospital, you’d moved in with him and took care of him while his shoulder healed. And then when he went back to work, you told him you had to quit working at Fazzoli’s because it was just too hard to go there every day after everything that had transpired there. You really had tried, but you just kept having flashbacks or panic attacks that Arianna would come walking through the door and take you away again. 

Rafael was totally understanding, as usual. He told you that you could be his Assistant for the time being, which really just meant you followed him around all day like a puppy. And he was paying you with his salary, so he was basically just giving you money. You hated it; you were used to being completely independent-- sort of. 

Sure Arianna ‘protected’ you, but it wasn’t like you were a baby bird. You had been through so many horrific things in your short life, all on your own. You knew how to survive in the mean streets of NYC, making your own money. You were like a bulldog, and now you were a lap dog. 

“Hey,” Rafael picked your head up back to face him. “I know. I’m not blaming you for anything,” 

“But you are sick of me,” 

“I just...I think you need more people in your life, that’s all,” he stroked your hair.

“Yeah, I know,” you shrugged.

He was right, but you weren’t used to having more than one person looking out for you, or vice versa. You didn’t really know what it was like to have a normal friend, and your serious trust issues really didn’t help the situation. Rafael had tried to get you to go to therapy to work through your “issues”, but you didn’t trust your therapist, which made the whole thing moot. 

“...Wait, so what were you actually talking about with Liv?” 

“She told you, I was--” 

“Can we not do this again,” You rolled your eyes. 

“....Alright fair enough,” He sighed, giving up. “I asked Olivia if she knew of any girls that might want to ‘hang out’ with you,” 

“Oh my god, Rafa!” You were humiliated. 

“God now I’m like that weird kid in class who eats paste, and her parents have to to talk to the teacher who makes the other kids be her friend,” 

“....That’s a weirdly specific scenario,” he raised an eyebrow.

“...Yeah, well-- not my first time,” You shrugged sadly.

“Aw honey,” He half laughed, taking your into his arms and kissing your forehead. “I would’ve been your friend, no matter what you ate,” 

“Yeah well considering you were probably in high school when I was in elementary, I doubt it,” You smirked.

“Ooof, below the belt,” He put both hands over his crotch with a pained expression.

“I’m sorry,” you stuck your tongue out with a smile. “But you kinda deserve it, trying to beg people to be my friend,” 

“I didn’t BEG…” He started, but saw that look in your eyes. “Okay but it worked,” He came clean. 

“Oh Olivia and I are gonna have a girls night? Are we gonna braid each other’s hair and talk about boys we like? OH WAIT,” You made sarcastic gestures. “We like the same boy!” You rolled your eyes. 

“I mean, I can’t blame you. He’s pretty awesome,” He smirked.

“And so not full of himself,” You pulled on his collar towards you.

“Not at all,” He kept smirking, as he placed his lips over yours. 

Just then Barba’s phone vibrated-- a text from Liv. 

 “KARAOKE NIGHT. TONIGHT. 8PM,” 

 “Uh….well, I guess you might be right?” He showed his phone. It vibrated again, another text came in as your were reading it.

 “LUCY AND FRIENDS, YOU BETTER BE THERE TOO. I’M NOT A BABYSITTER,” 

 “Well, she is just lovely,” you handed it back to him with a roll of your eyes. 

“Hey, at least she’s trying,” he texted a reply to Liv.

 “Can you try as well? Please?”  He asked you while looking at you with the same puppy dog eyes, Liv wasn’t the only one who couldn’t resist them.

“Fine…” you sighed, and he rewarded you with a kiss.

“I need something to wear,” You batted your eyes, to which he rolled his own and pulled out his credit card. 

“See? I’m leaving you alone, it’s working already!” You giggled, walking out of the office to go shopping.

------

That night, you and Rafael showed up to a place called TOP5.. It was a fun, trendy hipster  restaurant. There were several booths, some tables, even a few couches for people to chill. And in front of everything was a huge stage, with a piano next to it. But there was also a DJ, spinning records. 

Rafael noticed Olivia waving to him; he lead you to a giant half booth half table where Olivia, Rollins, Fin, Carisi, and four young girls you had never met before sat with drinks in their hands. 

“How did you get these guys out?” Rafael gestured to the squad.

“I asked them nicely,” She smiled.

“Yeah, if ‘nice’ means  it was either this or catching up on paperwork all night,” Fin rolled his eyes. 

“This is Lucy, my nanny,” Olivia pointed the young girl next to her, who gave a small wave. 

“And these are my friends Riley, Lexi and Brianne,” Lucy pointed to each of her friends, who also did a wave as they heard their name. 

“Rafael Barba,”  he nodded to the girls. “And this is my--”

“Y/N,” You interjected, introducing yourself. You were determined NOT to just be “Rafael’s Girlfriend” anymore. 

“So we were looking through some songs, I don’t think anyone’s brave enough to go up there though,” Lexi informed you, gesturing to a huge black binder in front of her and her friends.

“More like not drunk enough,” Lucy laughed.

“Hey we can fix that!” Brianne giggled, calling for shots from the bar.

“Great idea Barba, it’s like we’re chaperoning,” Amanda whispered to Rafael, who rolled his eyes and nodded to a waiter for a scotch. 

“May I?” You asked Riley, sliding the book in front of you. You flipped through a binder, until a song stood out to you. It was like it was screaming to you from the page.

You had heard so many “therapeutic” mantras over the past month, people trying help you get over your trauma. Talk it out, they said. You need to get it out. 

Well, this was one way. 

You excused yourself and walked up to the DJ, whispered something to which he nodded, and went to the mic. 

“Alright alright, looks like we have our first vict--I mean, superstar!” He joked. You seriously thought about punching him in the face for using “victim” as a joke, but you knew that was the trauma talking. And you were to fix that, not indulge it.

 The music started, and you just let the words spill out:

This is a story that I have never told

I gotta get this off my chest to let it go

I need to take back the light inside you stole

You're a criminal

And you steal like you're a pro

All the pain and the truth

I wear like a battle wound

So ashamed, so confused

I was broken and bruised

Thoughts of you and Arianna’s life together ran through your mind like a movie montage as you sang. The words were so scary accurate.

Now I'm a warrior

Now I've got thicker skin

I'm a warrior

I'm stronger than I've ever been

And my armor, is made of steel, you can't get in

I'm a warrior

And you can never hurt me again

 That first chorus felt like you were letting out a huge breath you had been holding in for God knows how long. You wanted Olivia, Rafel, the squad...EVERYONE to know, that you weren’t this helpless little lamb they had seen for the past month.

 Out of the ashes, burning like a fire

You can save your apologies

You're nothing but a liar

I've got shame, I've got scars

But I will never show

I'm a survivor

In more ways than you know

'Cause all the pain and the truth

I wear like a battle wound

So ashamed, so confused

I'm not broken and bruised

 Now the flashbacks of the real trauma you had been through came pulsing through your mind. Horrors that still kept you up at night; you’d have night terrors sometimes but had hidden them from Rafael so far. He didn’t need to know just how fucked up you truly were. None of it mattered now anyway, you were a survivor. And you had the scars to prove it.

 'Cause now I'm a warrior

Now I've got thicker skin

I'm a warrior

I'm stronger than I've ever been

And my armor, is made of steel, you can't get in

I'm a warrior

And you can never hurt me

 There's a part of me I can't get back

A little girl grew up too fast

All it took was once, I'll never be the same

Now I'm taking back my life today

Nothing left that you can say

'Cause you were never gonna take the blame anyway

 You thought of everything Arianna had taken from you. Sure your childhood was shit, but you were fairly young when she convinced you to run away with her. You could have stayed in your small town, found a decent job. Lived a normal life, with normal friends. But she sucked you into your life of crime and deceit, all while telling you it was perfectly fine, and that she loved you. But it was all bullshit, all of it. You saw that now. And now if she ever came back into your life and tried to convince you of anything, you wouldn’t fall back into her lies.

You took a breath before the last chorus, suddenly feeling your face getting wet. You realized you had started crying while you were singing, but for some reason you weren’t ashamed of it. It actually made you feel stronger, like letting your tears wash the pain and shame from yourself.

 Now I'm a warrior

I've got thicker skin

Now I'm a warrior

I'm stronger than I've ever been

And my armor, is made of steel, you can't get in

I'm a warrior

And you can never hurt me again

You finished the song in a whisper as your head dropped to looking at the floor. You were exhausted from the mental journey that song had taken you on. You had never felt so...free. Before you could even look up, the room erupted in applause. 

You lifted your head to see everyone in the room giving you a standing ovation...even Olivia, who you could swear had tears in her eyes. 

You gave a sheepish smile and a curtsy, quickly getting off the stage and returning to your booth, where not a face was dry. 

“...Aww, guys...,” You didn’t know what to say; you had never been that open and vulnerable to ANYONE before, and here you had gone and ripped your soul open in front of a group of strangers.

“That was--” 

Olivia came around and hugged you, a genuine hug. It lasted uncomfortably long, so you had to break it with a confused smile. 

“I’m sorry I judged you,” She apologized, and you saw the absolute sincerity and guilt written all over her face.

“It’s fine, if I were you I would’ve judged me too,” you gave her an understanding smile.

She nodded, giving Rafael an apologetic look as well, to which he took her hand and pulled her into a hug. 

“So, who’s next?!” You smiled, pushing the binder to the middle of the table. Protests and laughs began at the table, bickering about who was drunk enough to follow you. 

Rafael leaned over to you, whispering in your ear over the noise of the crowd.

“You’re the bravest warrior I know, Y/N” He wiped tears from his eyes, kissing your cheek.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” you smiled, wiping the rest of his tears as you kissed him. 

And for the first time maybe ever, you believed it.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #warrior #helpless

[sergeantsporks]

Swapped

Ch 4/5

Ao3

Or read under the cut

The year did not pass in a flash, even after he got a job at a little cafe. The year passed agonizingly slowly, with one dull moment after another, while in the meantime, Zoe came back with story after story of exciting goings-on at Hextech.

Well. Not every moment was dull. Sometimes the moments were painfully embarrassing as he would be called up to the board to attempt something he didn’t know how to do, or would be handed back yet another assignment with a ridiculous amount of red ink scrawled on it.

The teachers seemed to be catching on that he knew absolutely nothing, and had one of two reactions; one of them was to simply leave him alone and not embarrass him further, and the other was to attempt to help him learn by calling on him more often.

At least once the students accepted that he was dumb as dirt when it came to school, they liked him fine. A lot of them were incredibly confused about how he could possibly be so bad at school and then be socially competent. He tried to steer clear of them.

Douxie Casperan, please report to the counselor’s office.

Uh-oh. That did not sound good.

Aaaaand yep, the whispers started up, following him down to the counselor’s little room. Really, it wasn’t THAT hard to figure out why he was being called out. He sat down in a chair, his report card facing him with a line of F’s and D’s. Oh, and one A+ in history. He could do that, at least, having lived through most of it.

“Douxie,” the guidance counselor started.

“Yep, I know, I’m a horrendous student with horrendous grades, I need to take school seriously and apply myself. I know all that.”

“You’re a smart kid, Douxie. Your history grades prove that you can do well. And the teachers all say that you’re trying. It just seems like… you’re missing a lot of other information.”

Uh-oh. She was a little too smart. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you don’t seem to struggle in Calculus because you don’t understand calculus—it’s like you struggle because you never learned algebra, so the background isn’t there. It seems like no one ever taught you basic essay-writing skills, so you can’t write an essay, despite seeming to understand analyzing literature fairly well.”

Douxie nodded along as she spoke, but his attention was caught on something outside the window. Something very shiny, and glowing blue.

Trollhunter. The amulet. That bar girl had been right. And the trollhunter was… wandering around in broad daylight. A human?!

“Douxie?”

Douxie put his hands down on the desk. “You’re right, I never took algebra, also I’m nineteen so I don’t technically have to be here, bye!”

He ran out the door, grabbed his bag, and left school forever. He didn’t find the trollhunter, but that didn’t matter. No more calculus. No more counselors and school. The human trollhunter had arrived.

According to the instructions Merlin had left behind for his apprentice, that meant Merlin couldn’t be far behind.

Xxx

Douxie read Merlin’s instructions. Then he read them again. And one more time just to be sure. The old wizard hadn’t left behind anything specific. Only that there would be a human trollhunter, and he would be the one to wake Merlin. And that Douxie was to stay out of it. No handy dates, or a “meet up here!” note, besides a vague bunch of instructions about opening up a bookshop.

“Don’t stress too much over it,” Archie advised him, “He’s Merlin. He’ll contact us when he’s ready, I expect.”

“I don’t want—” Douxie bit down on his tongue. He couldn’t exactly tell Archie about his mission. “I don’t want to wait that long. What if he’s forgotten about us?”

“Merlin never forgets a detail. It’s his thing.”

“I know, I just…”

“Douxie. It’s okay. He’ll be here. Just… be patient.”

Douxie swept the pages of instructions off of the Hextech help counter. “I’ve been patient!” he shouted, “I’ve waited for nine-hundred years, and he can’t even bother to give me a place to check?!”

The door swung open, and Zoe took in the scene. “Oh, boy. Don’t tell me Mr. Arthurian legend is going to be here soon.”

“Well, the problem is,” Douxie growled, “I don’t know!”

Zoe delicately picked up the written instructions, scanning through them. “Right. Well, if you’re really so determined to wait around for this guy—”

“I am!”

“Then I suggest you open that bookstore he’s got set up. If he’s going to meet you anywhere, it’ll probably be there.” Zoe took his hand. “Douxie, can I talk to you? Alone?”

Douxie let her lead him outside, where she dropped his hand. “Why do you need Merlin?” she asked simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. Why do you need him? Why are you so determined to meet back up with this guy that abandoned you for nine-hundred years?”

“I—there’s still so much I don’t know about magic. And I’m not a master wizard yet, I—”

“Why do you need to be a master wizard? Why do you need Merlin? You’ve been doing just fine without him, or some master wizard title for so long! With just you, me, and Archie! What do you need some crusty old guy to tell you?!”

Well, being a master wizard had been the other Hisirdoux’s plan. But… why was he still holding onto some mission? One that he hadn’t needed to do for nine-hundred years? No. That kind of thinking was out of line. He needed to do this. For his parents, if he couldn’t do it for the pale lady. “I… I just need it.”

“But why?!” Zoe half-screamed, “What’s so important about it?!” She grabbed his hand again. “We don’t have to open the bookshop! We don’t know when or if Merlin will wake up! We can go anywhere, do anything—just like we did before you saw the human trollhunter! You can work here, at Hextech, the wizards here are so varied, you can learn whatever magic you want from them—some of them probably even know things that Merlin doesn’t! Just forget about Merlin and his instructions! How can you feel so attached to him still—you’ve spent nine-hundred years with Archie and I, isn’t that more real than any old apprenticeship that you haven’t been a part of for centuries?”

“I’m opening the bookshop,” Douxie growled, “I’m waiting for Merlin.”

Zoe threw her hands up in the air. “Fine! Fine, you open your bookshop, and wait for your stupid master! I’m staying here at Hextech!” She ran a hand through her bangs. “Gah, Douxie! I love you, but you need to learn to let go of some things, okay? Just… think about it. Give it a few days before you open up that bookshelf. Figure out what you really want, not what you wanted nine-hundred years ago and have been holding onto ever since.” She went back inside, the door slamming behind her.

What he really wanted.

He had a mission. A purpose. Right?

Well, what did he care what the Pale Lady wanted? She hadn’t been seen for centuries, just like Merlin. She’d just left behind cryptic instructions, just like Merlin.

But his parents—he couldn’t just abandon them. And if he was on the winning side of this war, if he kept on Gunmar’s side and delivered the information about Merlin’s plans—if he ever woke up—maybe, just maybe, he could make sure that Zoe and Archie wouldn’t get hurt. That there would be a place next to him for them.

Who was he kidding? They’d never agree to that. He couldn’t have a Gum-Gum victory and his new friends. There had to be something else—a way to get his parents back and protect Zoe and Archie and not lose their friendship.

He had to figure out a way.

In the meantime, he opened up the bookshop.

He kept monster hunting with Zoe and Archie.

He kept working at the café.

All the while, more and more of his skin was turning to stone, blue stone lines meeting pink flesh where Something Had Happened to Hisirdoux, but WHY?! So he kept covering up more and more skin, wearing long sleeves and pants even in the heat, much to Zoe and Archie’s amusement.

And he kept running through plans. But they always came down to choosing between his parents or Zoe and Archie. Volunteer enough information to get his parents out of the Darklands, Zoe and Archie hated him. But he couldn’t just leave them stuck there!

Then there was the problem of… well, explaining what he was. Could he ever tell Zoe and Archie the truth? If he rescued his parents, it would come out eventually, wouldn’t it? But he couldn’t just leave them stuck there!

He was set in autopilot, going through the motions of his day while his brain continuously raced to figure out the paradox of How to Not Lose Anyone.

And then he wandered right into a web of dark magic at work. He almost stopped dead in his tracks before forcing himself to continue walking and acting like nothing was wrong. The human trollhunter. Jim. He’d tried to get in closer a few weeks ago, shown up at the school, handed out flyers for the Battle of the Bands. Talked to Jim’s friends. He still wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but the trollhunter was glaring at him.

That magic, though. It wasn’t coming from the trollhunter. It was coming from… Claire. No surprise, she was the shadow magician, but… this felt… different.

And then a voice spoke in his head, slithering and cold.

Stay out of it.

Douxie blinked. Had he just-?

I am your queen, your creator, Morgana, Baba Yaga, the Pale Lady, and I am ordering you to not interfere. The girl is mine.

Douxie gulped. Right. This was happening. Okay. Fine.

Act as though nothing has happened. Your cover is necessary—Merlin may soon return.

Douxie steeled himself and took their orders—he wasn’t quite sure how to tell her, but Morgana wasn’t exactly… doing the best job fitting in. And the whole time, his mind spun and reeled. Had Morgana read his mind all along? Did she know everything he’d struggled with?

Well, don’t think about it now, he told himself, shaking his head.

Should Merlin return, Gunmar awaits in trollmarket. I will guide you to him, my special wizard. Soon, you will no longer have to pretend. You will be free to be yourself.

Morgana’s presence faded from his mind as Claire and Jim left, and Douxie shivered, rubbing his arms.

What if I’m not sure who “myself” is anymore?

#toa #tales of arcadia #douxie #zoe #archie #toa fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #dalmar #swapped #changeling!douxie au