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ccasey0 · 22 days

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OKAY. I did it. @thr-333 i finally did it. i made your lil guy. AND i gave him lore.

but before i show you i want you to see the mass amounts of concept sketches i came up with cuz i couldnt figure this guy out for the life of me.

haha this went in so many different directions. i wanted him to look young, but any time i drew him like that he looked weird. so i tried a teenager. that just looked terrible. eventually i got it right tho :)

oke, lore time! i gave this boi trauma so brace yourselves! also, imma try to make it mostly as a fic cuz i wanna see if i can actually write like that. oh, btw for context go here :)

The altar was beautiful. A tiny hut with no front wall. a large cork board on the back wall with pretty charms hanging from it. and a solid stone table in the center with lavender growing around the edges and corners. it would have been a wonderful sight.....if it wasn't Tommy's final resting place. two large men in black robes and masks covering their faces ushered Tommy forward. His hands were bound, and he was too weak to get away. the men shoved him to his knees, their hands gripping his shoulders hard and mercilessly. the priest stood behind him, speaking out to the crowd. nobody seemed to care that Tommy was just a child who didn't want to be here. he knew he would die one day. but he expected it to be from starvation or some sort of sickness from living on the streets. not like this. not as a sacrifice for some stupid Moon God. The priest finished his speech. shit. Tommy struggled against the ropes. please. i don't want to die. let me go. i know i wasn't good. just please don't kill me. i wont do anything bad again. i promise. please. don't kill me. i don't want to die. tears ran down his face, as he tried to plead with the people all staring at him. words failed him. he couldn't speak. suddenly his whole body went numb with shock as the priest poured a bowl of freezing cold water over his head. the man chanted some words in a strange language as Tommy coughed and tried to reorient himself. he opened his eyes and looked up, trying to see the priests face and plead with him. all he saw was the dagger coming down on his head. the world went silent. time seemed to slow down as the blade reached the space between Tommy's wide, teared up eyes. blood splattered onto the stone floor below them. people cheered, all chanting the same words the priest had spoken. Tommy fell limp. he was dead. his body slumped and flopped onto the ground. the priest picked him up, raising his dead body up for everyone to see. he then laid him down on the altar. saying a prayer and then turning back to the people to preach to them again.

the two stars frantically tried to tell their story to Casey. two farmer stars. Casey had no idea what either of them were trying to say, as they were both talking over each other. He raised up his hands, gesturing for the two to stop and back up. "okay, okay, slow down. uh, you." he pointed to the one on the right. "what happened?" the star began to recite what she had seen. a boy. dead on an altar built by an obsessive cult village. the small star finished her story and casey folded his arms. "well shit. both of you stay here. tell the others what happened and have Ally and May meet me at the Tree Shrine." There were a few stars that Casey knew the names of. but that's only because they usually followed him around everywhere they could. Casey then looked up at the small owl sitting on his head. he sighed, already dreading the convrsation he and his sister were going to have in the future. "go tell Dellta." the small owl, Abby, nodded slightly and flew away. Casey then held his hand out over the blackness under his feet. he was standing on the barrier between the Night and the Mortal World. a hole formed below him and he fell through, the other side leading to the woods surrounding the Cult Village. he looked around. it was dark out. Casey's time. the Nighttime. perfect. he walked through the forest, moss and mushrooms growing everywhere he stepped. it was cloudy tonight. the moon wasn't out. Casey moved quickly, just a blur through the trees to anyone who might see him. finally, he reached the altar. it was built up on a short cliff, and casey was at the bottom behind it. he jumped up to it, the wind blowing carrying him upward so he could land on top of the structure. he then hopped down to the stone floor below, drifting slowly until his feet reached the cold surface. he turned to see the boy. there he was, laying dead on the glossy stone table. a small incense fire had been lit on his chest and had already begun to burn him. Casey immediately brushed it off of the child, putting out the fire and dusting away the ashes. he stare down and the boy, whose face still had blood stains running down from between his eyes and splatters all over his skin. Casey brushed the hair away from his forehead. he then wiped off some of the blood with his thumb and pressed it to his forehead, painting the mark of the Night. Casey whispered the same words Celestial had spoken when they made Casey and Dellta spirits. the mark glowed and turned from blood to a permanent tattoo on the child. Casey then carefully lifted the boy up in his arms, holding him gently and making his way back to the spirit tree.

The boy opened his eyes slightly. everything was blurry and way too bright, and he had a horrible ache in his head. his gaze drifted upward as he tried to figure out who was holding him. his vision was still too poor to see them clearly. whoever it was, they seemed gentle. and their hands were very cold. their figure was dark, although their eyes seemed to be glowing yellow. the child tried to speak, but he couldn't even open his mouth. all that came out was a muffled "mmmm....mfff..." The figure slowed down for a second, looking down at him. "ah. you're awake. don't worry, Konton. you're safe now." their voice was tired and draggy, yet somehow warm in a strange way. wait...Konton? is that....my name? Konton. I like it. Chaos in japanese. wait, how do i know that? i don't speak japanese? what is going on?? The boy- Konton squinted his eyes to look at the person holding him. fur, ears, four eyes. what the fuck?? his vision was ever so slowly coming back to him....and his memory. he hadn't even thought of trying to remember what happened until now. it came in flashes. the men. the altar. the water. the knife. He didn't even realize he was crying until the person stopped next to a tree and set him down. the knelt down, reaching forward and brushing a tear off Konton's cheek. "hey. you're okay. no one will hurt you now. but i need you to listen to me for a bit, can you do that?" Konton nodded, bracing himself for whatever this strange person had to say. judging by their face, it was going to be long story.

To be continued..

Holy shit that took forever. Fics are very time consuming. hope you guys liked it tho! please tell me if ya'll want more of this! i know i should work some more on posting HBT, but the Spirit Au is just so much fun! this kid was originally just a lil guy i made for @thr-333, but i liked him enough to make him canon, just like the stars! also, @allyheart707 @kitmay05 and @icequeenabby have all been included in this as their stars! sorry to the other stars, i just felt like these guys would fit best for the roles i had for them.

also! i was doobling the other day and made this :D

onii mask cuz why not? it's not a canon mask, i was just messing around :) that side profile looks like shit lol. but if you look closely you can see the scar from the incense fire on his chest. Konton doesnt remember the fire since it happened while he was dead. although he remembers everything else about his life except for names. even his. he can remember faces, but no names whatsoever. not even pets.

there is a lot more story to this and i might even continue it if y'all are interested. i also have a funky lil comic cooking in the background that i definitely haven't been procrastinating all weekend haha why would you ever think that :D

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lollytea · 3 years

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Hi! I love you Shageera fic! The fandom is so small and your fic is so good, I can't thank you enough! And I wanted to ask you, do you have any headcanon about their relationship outside of Talespin? In the original Jungle Book "canon" or some other AU? I'd love to hear them if you do have them, your takes are gold!

Hi! Thank you so much!!

Hmmm. All the versions of shagheera in my head follows the same basic story structure of “friends as kids, grow apart as they get older, reconnect as adults” EXCEPT for the jungle book/canon universe, where the first two DO apply to them (thank you jungle cubs for making that canon, idk where I’d be without jungle cubs canon.) but they continue to keep their distance from each other once they’re grown. I mean Khan tried to kill Bagheera’s kid AND his bear husband. I don’t think they ever can bounce back from that one. They got bad blood and they probably always will.

Unless….just kidding…..unless….

I think about the plot of this cancelled third jungle book movie very often. Yeah it would’ve been bad but….but….but adult Khan and Bagheera might have interacted. Also I wanna know how the fuck a shere khan redemption arc is written. Not very well probably but I still wanna see it. I think Disney should send me the script to this film. As a gift. I think I deserve it. It’s not like they want it. Hand it over, lads.

ANYWAY

Besides the talespin universe, I’ve got like two shagheera AUs

Treasure Planet AU — Bagheera is a scholar and astronomer who comes aboard Captain Shere Khan’s ship. The two know recognize each other as the childhood friend they used to play pirates with. So, rather ironic circumstances they’ve found themselves in. Neither know how to react to reuniting so they’re pretty awkward about it and refuse to acknowledge that they were ever close. They mostly interact with the distant politeness of people who barely know each other and strictly refer to the other Captain/Doctor (unless circumstances are dire) But they’re gonna be stuck on this ship together for the next few weeks so they better figure out what the fuck their relationship is.

Bagheera is deeply out of his element. He’s intimidated by the crew and he doesn’t know how to handle a weapon so he considers himself rather useless on this expedition. He’s never even held a pistol before and now he’s expected to know how to shoot one. He’s so frazzled that he nearly (accidentally) shoots Khan dead at one point. But he wouldn’t be Bagheera if he wasn’t stubbornly insisting that he knows what he’s doing, especially when the captain shoots some sardonic comment his way. The two get into more squabbles than he cane keep track of.

Shere Khan is exasperated with the doctor, with the boy he brought aboard, with the entire idiot crew he hired, but especially with the doctor. He attempts to keep himself composed but he keeps stooping to the most childish arguments and he feels like the presence of Bagheera is forcibly dragging him back 25 years every time they interact. Shere Khan does not know how to feel about that.

Shere Khan finds himself having to acknowledge that Bagheera is brilliant. Due to the doctor’s calculations, the ship avoided the waves of impact during a difficult path through a black hole and he’s the reason they got out alive. He never felt all that much admiration for the little brainiac when they were children but now he is absolutely blowing him away.

Bagheera starts spending more time in Shere Khan’s office because it’s the only place he feels comfortable. (The crew really creeps him out.) and they do everything from argue to discuss alternate routes to pour over the map. This evolves to Shere Khan teaching Bagheera what he knows about wielding a sword and they have many homoerotic sparring sessions. Sometimes they’ll lay out in the escape boats and Bagheera will teach Khan the names of all his favourite constellations. They have many homoerotic star gazing sessions. BASICALLY they have a gay space pirate love story but it’s behind the scenes stuff cuz Kit is the protagonist of this au and he doesn’t give a fuck what Shere Khan and Bagheera are doing.

They are forced to acknowledge that they care about each other when the stakes get more dangerous and both have their near death experiences, rattling the other considerably. At the very least they start calling each other by their first names again ❤️

Fairytale/ Dragon Princess AU — OKAY i don’t think I’ve ever publicly posted about this au so I won’t unpack all of it cuz I know y’all aren’t familiar with it. It’s mostly focused on Baloo/Rebecca and the bear family as a whole but Shagheera is involved too so I’ll focus on that part for now.

So basically Shere Khan was a kid prince and Bagheera was the son of a servant so, as the only two children in the castle, they’ve been playmates since before they could walk.

The only other children they interacted with were Bagheera’s friends (Baloo, Louie etc.) and Shere Khan’s wife-to-be, Princess Rebecca. Their parents arranged the engagement and neither Khan or Rebecca were thrilled about it. As they grow older, Bagheera leaves the palace to make his own way and he and Khan don’t keep in touch.

By the time they were young adults, mysterious circumstances paused Shere Khan and Rebecca’s upcoming marriage when word spread around that the princess had been horribly cursed and locked away in a tower. Details were sparse, even to her fiancé. All that was known was that she had last been seen talking with a man who had a reputation for being a dark mage and it can be deduced that he was the one behind the curse.

But before she disappeared, Rebecca sent Khan a letter begging him to please not retrieve her from the tower, warning him that whoever ventured out to save her would not make it back alive. Khan obliged of course, both because he respected her wishes and if she returned, he would have to marry her.

As a king, Shere Khan had excellent publicity. He was charming and charismatic in public, masking the fact that he was an absolute bitch in private. He was also obliged to act like he cared about his fiancée being returned to his side so every now and then he allowed whatever arrogant glory seeking fool who offered, to go “save” her. None of them lived.

Years later, Khan drops into an ancient, desolate library on the outskirts of town, hoping to find a particular book on plants. It’s after midnight, so he doesn’t have to deal with the scandal of the king being out and about. And who does he find between the shelves, bathed in the dim glow of oil lamps, but Bagheera, snoring on the floor in a pile of open books.

This begins a tentative acquaintanceship in which Khan escapes to the library every now and again for a change of scenery and to meet with Bagheera, who lives on the floor above.

It doesn’t take long for Shere Khan to learn Bagheera’s reputation. As it turns out, the passionate yet introverted scholar with books on the brain, is allegedly the “dark mage” that put a curse on Rebecca all those years ago. This would explain why his library is always empty. Everyone in town is petrified of him.

Rather than turn to anger or fear, Shere Khan can only feel disbelief and intrigue because whatever rumors are going around are clearly fabricated. He challenges Bagheera to perform some evil little spell for him, summon hellbeasts if he must. But Bagheera falters and it is revealed that underneath that reputation is a bit of a sham. Bagheera has been trying for years to become an adept mage but he just can’t get the hang of it. His spell-work is terrible. Always has been.

“Well surely you can’t have cursed the princess then?” Shere Khan reasons. But that’s not exactly true. Yes, Bagheera was not behind the original curse but when Rebecca came to him for help, he accidentally made it so so much worse. Bagheera is the reason shes been forced to hide herself away in a tower and he’s been spending all these years attempting to improve his magic so he can finally undo what he’s done.

And so Fairytale/Dragon Princess AU is a fantasy love story where Shere Khan attempts to help Bagheera effectively channel his magic. The fun part about it is magic is intricately tied to a persons emotional state so when you’re having homoerotic little scenes with your childhood buddy and he touches your forearm, you nearly set the whole goddamn library ablaze. Real gay shit.

I have run out of steam and cannot ramble anymore. Hope I have pleased you.

#this is very rambly and not very arresting I am sorry #I had a lot to say but not the worlds to say them

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dawninlatin · 4 years

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Tell me a story

Part of the Manorian Teacher AU. This one takes place only months after “Online classes are the worst.

Words: 2676

AO3 Link

Link to my masterlist and the other parts of the Teacher AU

A/N: It feels so good to write for this AU again, and this part might just be my favourite yet, so I hope you enjoy it<3

Feel free to leave a comment or some constructive criticism or whatever;)

I also am aware that the timeline in this AU doesn't make sense, but it's summer and I have forgotten math, so we'll just ignore that:))

Peace&Love<3 -Dawninlatin

It was on a warm July evening that Manon Blackbeak declared to no one in particular that she was done being pregnant.

Only moments later, her asshole of a boyfriend decided to crush all her hopes and dreams by walking into their bedroom and saying, «You still have three months left, babe.»

Not deeming him worthy of a verbal response, Manon instead grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it across the room with full force, not that it was much these days. Gods, she was so tired.

The pillow didn’t even make it all the way to Dorian, instead it landed with a weak thump by his feet, and Manon let out a frustrated sigh as he made his way over to her, taking the pillow with him and placing it back with the many, many others.

Manon was nestled on their bed, amongst the horde of pillows, all of them meticulously placed to create the perfect position, the only way she could sleep with a two pound human being inhabiting her body.

«Don’t worry, those three months will be over before you know it,» Dorian tried to comfort, picking up a discarded t-shirt and pulling it over his bare chest. His inky black hair was still wet from the shower he’d just had.

«That’s easy for you to say,» Manon mumbled, crossing her arms.

Something in her expression made Dorian pause, a guilty look on his face. «You’re right, it is easy for me to say. How are you?» He sat down on the bed, and Manon took in the pleasant smell of men’s soap.

«Exhausted,» she sighed, rubbing her swollen belly. Manon didn’t know how she could take three more months of a constantly bloated and aching body. Already she felt as if she could burst at any moment, and bigger would she get. None of her clothes fit, so she had simply taken to just wearing Dorian’s. Then there was the fact that she had to pee every ten minutes, and she still got nauseous, even if she was far past her first trimester, and no matter what she ate, she was kept up half the night by heartburn.

Yet the physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the emotional fatigue. All the hormones heightening her every emotion, and it completely drained her. She got incredibly angry and frustrated by the littlest things, and she cried. All. The. Damn. Time.

The fact that they were in the middle of a pandemic, and that the world was falling apart around her didn’t exactly help. Manon didn’t take well to spending all her days cooped up in their small house. She wanted to go out and do something. Instead she spent all her days inside, watching crappy TV, trying to ignore how helpless she felt.

Manon truly envied Dorian’s ability to sit down with a book and wholly disappear in it. Sometimes he stayed in that bubble of his for hours, paying no mind to the world around him.

All of this felt like some sick, twisted, alternate reality where everything was well on its way to hell. And for her part, it had began with a positive pregnancy test.

The baby had been a shock to them both. After feeling sick for a few weeks, Manon had taken a test just to rule it out. She hadn’t expected to find two pink lines staring back at her. Kids had never been part of her ideal future, but as she saw the positive test, as she saw how excited Dorian got, no matter how much he tried to hide his joy, she couldn’t stop picturing them as a family. Couldn’t stop picturing a small child with Dorian’s blue eyes and inky black curls and irresistible charm. Deep down, she wanted them to share this together. And Dorian would make a great father. Manon on the other hand…

Quarantining made it even harder for Manon to deal with her pregnancy. How was she supposed to enjoy this, supposed to create a bond with her unborn child when all her time was spent inside, isolated, silently panicking over the state of the country? She didn’t get to stroll around shops, buying cute baby clothes, didn’t get to visit friends and family, sharing this journey with them. Manon had been to one ultrasound, and Dorian hadn’t even been allowed with her. The worst of it all was that she felt like a selfish, whining bitch for being sad about it all.

Now that summer vacation had started, she didn’t have work to look forward to either. As a science teacher, there was nothing she was more passionate about than her job. A few weeks back, she’d had to say goodbye to her graduating seniors over a fucking video call. It had taken all of her stubbornness and unrelenting will-power to not burst into tears in front of them. They didn’t know she was currently a hormone-filled mess. Gods, how she would miss those brilliant young minds that annoyed her to no end. She’d never tell them that, of course. She had a reputation to uphold after all.

But without the distraction of her work, she’d had to take up other hobbies to busy herself. Yesterday, Manon had cried her way through an entire season of ‘Our Planet’ while knitting a blanket for their baby. Knitting, of all things! It had quickly become an obsession, and truth be told, she was excellent at it, but it was something Manon had never imagined she’d be filling her time with. Maybe this was what they called nesting?

Her thoughts were interrupted as she noticed Dorian moving down the bed and settling with his head next to her belly. He had a book in his hand, one he’d pulled out from their crowded bookshelf. It was thin with a picture of a sweet-looking dragon on the front. Manon also noticed how old and worn-out it was, the spine barely binding it together.

Dorian cleared his throat, turning to the first page, and Manon let out a confused chuckle. «What are you doing?»

«That weird pregnancy app I downloaded told me that our baby can register sounds from outside now, so I’m reading them a bedtime story.» He looked at her as if it was obvious that’s what he was doing. Then he turned his head back towards her belly, his voice turning high-pitched. «And you better get used to it, dude…or dudette, ‘cuz I’m gonna read you a story every night from now on.»

Manon tried to control her laughter, but his baby-talk, mixed with the ridiculous look on his face made it very hard to hold it in. She laughed even more as he kept going. «But if I’m gonna read to you, your mommy needs to stop laughing at me! Yes she does!»

Hearing herself referred to as someones ‘mommy’ made her chest tighten uncomfortably, but no matter how wrong it sounded, she ignored it for now. For Dorian’s sake. Instead, she chose to mask her fear and doubt with flirty banter, as usual. «If you’re spending the entire evening in my lap, you might as well go a little lower and put that mouth of yours to good use.»

«MANON!» he chastised, playing the perfect role of a disappointed parent. Dorian placed both his hands on her belly, as if covering a pair of ears, and said in a hushed voice, «There are children present!»

Chuckling, Manon answered, «That’s not what you said last night when you-»

«CHAPTER 1!»

As she beheld the exaggerated look of shock and horror on his face, Manon failed to hold in her cackling laughter any longer.

Manon had closed her eyes long ago, simply enjoying the sound of Dorian reading one of his favourite books to their unborn child.

He was a natural at storytelling, his tone eager, making up different voices for each character, giving life to it. Manon knew he would make an excellent father. Could already picture him with their child, reading them books, tucking them into bed at night, soothing them after a nightmare.

Whenever she tried to picture herself as a mother, the only image coming to her mind was the image of her grandmother, the woman that had raised her, the woman that had made Manon’s childhood a living hell. Who was she trying to fool? She knew nothing about motherhood!

As she kept spiraling, tears began to sting in her eyes. Manon tried to stop them to no avail. She sniffled, and the noise got Dorian’s attention. Turning his head, he found her shaking with silent sobs.

«Manon? What’s wrong?» He rushed to her side, the book completely forgotten. He pulled her to him, stroking up and down her arms, and the loving gesture only made her cry harder.

«Talk to me, love,» he whispered against her hair.

But how could she? How could she possibly express everything she was feeling? All the fear and doubt. And Dorian was so excited, Manon didn’t have the heart to take that joy away from him by telling him how she really felt about all of it.

Instead, she voiced the one question that had been playing at the front of her mind for months now. «Do you think I’ll be a good mom?»

«Oh, Manon.»

Her breaths came in choking gasps, and no matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t get enough air.

«Breathe,» Dorian tried to soothe, running his hands up and down her back in long, calming strokes. Manon let her forehead fall to his shoulder, clutching his shirt.

«I just-» she began, but she didn’t know what came next. Drawing a ragged breath, she tried again, «I have no idea what I’m doing! Like, do you know all the ways a baby can die? You hold it wrong and it breaks! And I have no idea how to be a mother! None! Everyone says they’ll be different than their own parents, but in the end they end up the same, and I know I will be just like my grandmother! I can’t do this! I can’t-» Her words turned into a heartbreaking sob.

«Look at me,» Dorian said, taking her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, wiping away her tears only for more to follow. «Do you think I will be just like my father?»

His question took her by surprise, enough that she regained some control over her breathing. «Of course not!» Manon blurted out, wiping her eyes. «You’re nothing like him!»

«Exactly, and you’re nothing like your grandmother,» Dorian said firmly. Manon started shaking her head, but he grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

«I know you’ll be a great mom.» She was about to protest, but Dorian beat her to it. «You’ll make our child feel so safe, and loved, and supported, no matter what.»

«Dorian-» Her words died on her tongue as she saw how he looked at her, his eyes shining with love and adoration.

«You wanna know how I know that?» He pressed a kiss to her temple. «Because that’s how you make me feel, every single day.»

Dorian laid down, pulling her with him so that she lay with her head on his chest, feeling his heart beat, a steady rhythm that grounded her. Tears kept streaming down her cheeks, but her breathing had gone slow and even.

Manon broke the silence by whispering, «I’m so lucky to have you.» Dorian hummed in response.

They nearly fell asleep like that, until Manon suddenly spoke, her cracked voice startling Dorian in the process. «Will you keep reading? I wanna know how the story ends.»

This brought a huge grin to his face, and Dorian gladly slid back down to her belly, kissing it once, before picking up his discarded book. Manon settled back against her pillows while he skimmed to the right page.

Dorian cleared his throat once more, and picked up where he left, telling the story about a small, brave dragon that would much rather spend his days in fields of flowers than fighting wars.

«The end,» Dorian finished at last, a yawn escaping Manon’s lips.

«I liked this one,» Manon whispered. «You’re a great storyteller.» Dorian closed the book and sat up, a strange look on his face.

His eyes softened, and he said, «It’s not done yet.»

Manon’s face shifted into a confused expression, but Dorian didn’t explain further, simply placed the book on the nightstand, taking her in with burning intensity.

Outside, it had gone dark, the only source of light being the string lights that hung from the ceiling. They cast a soft, golden glow over the room, making Dorian look ethereal. He drew a ragged breath, before speaking, his voice quiet, «And as the lost man finished telling his story, he looked down at the love of his life, her white hair shining like liquid moonlight, her golden eyes glowing brighter than any star. He laid down next to her, face to face, took her hand in his, and asked, his heart ever so hopeful, ‘Will you marry me?’»

Manon couldn’t believe this was happening, her eyes widening in shock. Not pulling her gaze away from Dorian’s, the man she loved more than she could fathom, could ever put into words, she managed to choke out, «You- You’re asking me to marry you?»

«I am,» he whispered back, brushing a few loose strands of hair away from her face. «Wait a second, will you,» he blurted out, turning towards his nightstand and opening the drawer. «I actually have a ring,» he continued while rummaging around for it, his voice frantic.

«Got it,» Dorian said, facing her again. He inhaled once more, bracing himself. «I’ve had this ring for a while actually. I bought it straight after our first date, because I knew, already then, that there were no one else I’d want to spend my life with. You’re the love of my life, Manon. You’re my best friend, my equal, my everything, and I would be honored if I would also be able to call you my wife.»

How much love could a heart take before it would burst? Manon wondered to herself.

Flustered, Dorian kept talking, kept rambling, and damn her if it wasn’t the most adorable thing she had ever witnessed. «I had planned this big proposal with a candle lit dinner and roses and every other cliché ever invented, and you deserve so much more than this,» he gestured to them, to their bedroom, «but I couldn’t wait any longer, and-»

«No, it’s perfect,» Manon interrupted, shaking her head in disbelief as she took in the gorgeous ring. It was a thin, golden band with a simple, turquoise stone. It was really just perfect, all of it. Yes, she was in her - no, actually his - worn out pajamas, her hair pulled into a messy bun, her face bare, without any makeup, but it was perfect. She couldn’t have imagined it any different.

«Is that a yes then?» Dorian asked, his voice full of hope.

«Yes,» Manon laughed, and at the enormous grin appearing on her fiancé’s face, she burst into tears. «Those damn hormones,» she managed to choke out in between sobs, letting out an incredulous laughter.

Though this time it wasn’t purely the hormones’ fault. She had never felt so loved, and she knew Dorian felt the same way, because his own eyes were also lined with silver, mirroring her own.

After he put the ring on her finger, she pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing her lips to his. As they laid there, Manon took Dorian’s hand, placing it on her belly, where their child, their baby, had begun kicking ferociously. He gasped as he felt the fluttering kicks, and she couldn’t help but smile at the look of awe on his face. How right it felt, to be three. A family. Manon marveled over the feeling, something settling deep inside her.

Maybe the future wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#manorian #manorian fluff #manorian fanfiction #dorian x manon #manon x dorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #sarah j maas #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #tog fanfiction #modern au #dawninlatin teacher au

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turtle-steverogers · 5 years

Text

Whatever it Takes

hey guys so i’ve been in a wiggy place lately, which means my brain is doing some wiggy things and i keep starting fics and not finishing cuz i guess i’m just waiting for something that clicks, ya know?

anyway bear with me, here’s something else! but it feels like it’s clicking more than other things recently so we’ll see lolololol

(plus its a really fun concept)

relationship: sprace

warnings: mentions of death, but no one, like, is dead...

editing: no

word count: 2853

Chap 1

Spot awoke with an overcompensating gasp, eyes flying open as the world came crashing back. He remained still, slowly taking note of his current condition. His right cheek was pressed to the ground, the musty smell of the wet, grimy dirt suffocating him. His head hurt dully, but not nearly enough to concern him to any alarming extent. Just a simple, tension headache- probably from staying face down for so long.

He was shivering, belatedly realizing how stiff his limbs were. They were splayed at awkward angles, twisting in ways that couldn’t be healthy. He could hear the sound of rushing water, creating a cacophony of white noise around him. He blinked, trying to clear the haze from his vision. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing when his joint cracked painfully. He rolled his neck a few times, groaning as his body gradually loosened.

Stretching his arms above him, he looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be a park. Stretches of trimmed green grass surrounded him, encompassed only by small clusters of hedges and mini trees. To his left, a wide river flowed magnificently. Manhattan stood proudly on the other side of the river and Spot started, turning around hastily to see the Brooklyn Bridge standing hauntingly behind him.

When the hell did he get to Brooklyn? Where the hell was he? What happened?

He wracked his memory, trying to recall any details that would clue him in to his current situation, but nothing jumped out. All he could remember was excruciating pain giving way to loud voices, insufferable heat, numbing cold, then silence. And darkness. So much darkness.

He shuddered, unsure of what exactly had put him off. Though given the little he could remember, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

He looked down at himself, frowning at his outfit. He was wearing a pair of simple, straight legged, grey sweatpants and no shoes. A loose fitting black shirt hung limply on his frame. Suddenly, fleeting images of something white hot being pressed to his chest flew through his mind and he gasped, lifting his shirt hastily. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for- a scar perhaps- but his torso was completely unscathed. In fact, as he assessed himself mentally, nothing seemed out of the ordinary externally.

He pat his pockets, looking for a phone, maybe. Anything really that could assist him in gathering his bearings. But all he found was a coin. He squinted at it, running his fingers over the cool copper. It didn’t look like currency. Rather, it looked like an emblem of some sort. There was a slew of indiscernible etchings on either side and as he turned it over in his hands, he noticed that it was significantly thicker than any coin he’d ever seen before. It was more of a medallion than anything.

He took a breath, steeling himself as he stood up. His legs shook violently and he pitched to the side, stumbling for a moment before finding his footing. He walked on wobbly legs towards the street, wondering distantly what time it was. The sun was fairly high in the sky, casting a warm glow throughout Brooklyn. Not many people were at the park, but as he neared the main road, he could make out voices chattering mildly to one another. The air was cool, but fair, raising another question about what time of year it was. Spring? Early Summer? Somewhere around there.

He paused, swallowing around a dry throat as he stepped onto the sidewalk, looking out towards the shops that lined the street across from him. People crowded outside coffee shops, dining pleasantly in the outdoor seating.

Must be breakfast time, Spot thought to himself, biting his lip as hunger rumbled through his stomach. If only he had some actual money.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Spot startled, breathing in sharply as he looked to the side. A short, young woman stood beside him, gentle concern written on her face. She had a kind demeanor radiating off of her, putting Spot at ease.

“You don’t look so good,” She said delicately, “Is there anyone I can call for you? A cab?”

Spot blinked, shifting his jaw as he tried to decide where to go from the confusing shitshow he was already in. He wanted to go...home. Wherever that meant. He had an address in mind, but he wasn’t entirely sure where it lead to. It just felt right.

“Uh,” his voice was hoarse, cracking from lack of use. He cleared his throat, intending to ask for directions, but instead blurting, “What’s the date?”

The woman’s eyes flicked imperceptibly and she cocked her head, “It’s June 4.”

Spot nodded slowly, “And the year?”

The woman pursed her lips, “2019,” she said skeptically.

Spot felt the air leave his lungs. 2019!? The last New Years he remembered celebrating was 2015. What the fuck was going on?

He quickly masked his internal dilemma, opting instead to finally figure out where the hell he was going and how the hell he was going to get there.

He flicked a finger under his nose, clearing his throat again, “Yeah, uh, where is...uh….1365 Saint Nicholas Avenue?”

The woman hummed, pulling out her phone hastily and putting the address into Google Maps, “Uh, looks like that’s over in Washington Heights. Bit of a ways, do you want me to get you that cab?”

“Yeah, please,” Spot said distractedly, much too preoccupied with whatever could be waiting for him in Washington Heights to show the gratitude he felt. Why would he feel inclined to go there? His home was in Brooklyn, wasn’t it?

“Alright, gimme a sec,” The woman paced away from Spot a few steps, waiting at the edge of the sidewalk for a few minutes before flagging down a taxi. She leaned through the window, conversing with the taxi driver for a few minutes before pulling a credit card from her purse and swiftly swiping it across the E-payer.

“Alright,” She said, waving Spot over, “He knows where you’re headed and you’re all paid for.”

“Whoa, you didn’t have to pay-”

“It’s fine, honestly,” The woman assured him, “You looked like you could use a little more than just a helping hand.”

“Thank you so much,” Spot said, still feeling dazed and confused.

The woman gave him a reassuring smile, waving lightly as Spot climbed into the cab. He waved back, barely remembering to buckle himself as they sped away from the curb. Spot sat back in his seat leaning his head against the cool glass of the window as they traveled through the city. The sun seemed to rise higher as they went, warming the inside of the car to a comfortable temperature. Spot felt his eyes drooping closed and he allowed himself to slip into a uneasy doze.

“We’re here,” The cab driver grunted some time later, pulling Spot from his sleep.

Spot opened his eyes reluctantly, scrubbing a hand down his face and grimacing when it came away dirty. Apparently he was still grungy from whatever stint he’d had near the East River.

“Uh, thanks,” Spot grumbled, climbing unceremoniously from the car and peering up at the apartment complex in front of him.

A strange sense of familiarity washed over him and he felt an inadvertent lump rise in his throat. He hadn’t felt safety like this in ages. Pure will drove his legs to take him inside and he only just remembered to ask what floor the address what on.

A short elevator ride later, he was walking on shaky legs down a narrow hallway on the fourth floor, his heart in his throat. He arrived at the apartment, nostalgia gripping him like a vice as he stared at the heavy, wooden door. The door wasn’t at all different from the other doors in the hall, but something about it seemed routine- as if he’d knocked on this door thousands of times before. Perhaps once, he owned a key to this door. Walked over its threshold day after greeting...greeting someone. Someone was waiting for him on the other side of that door. Someone had been waiting for him on the other side of that door.

He lifted his fist and rapped his knuckles against the dark wood, waiting with baited breath as a voice sounded from the other side.

“Just a sec!”

Spot gasped, heart clenching. He’d heard that voice before. It was part of him. That voice had bombarded his life, its jarring loudness charming him in a way he couldn’t explain. He’d missed that voice.

Less than a minute later, the door opened and on the other side stood a man. He was taller than Spot by a good amount, with a mop of blonde curly hair mussed carelessly on his head. His bright blue eyes were accentuated by dark circles and he was dressed in a pair of old jeans and a ratty sweatshirt. He looked unkempt, but it was evident that he’d seen worse times. The longer Spot stared at him, not wavering under the awed stare that watched him back, the more he longed to reach out and touch him. God had he missed that face.

The guy let out a shaky breath, mouth hanging slightly agape as he looked Spot up and down. His eyes were shadowed by something, shock outweighing any other emotion.

Something seemed to build in the guy and he let out a little whimper, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt- something Spot knew he did when he was overwhelmed or anxious.

“Sean,” He breathed, utter disbelief dripping in his words.

Spot smiled a little, overwhelmed energy building in him as well, “Hi, Racer.”

Race huffed out what could have been a laugh, though his face remained stunned, “You- I- how?”

Spot shook his head, running a hand through his dirty hair, “I don’t know.”

“No, like...I- you,” Race sucked in a breath, glimmering eyes searching Spot. He hadn’t moved from his place in the doorway, stance pensive- as if he were afraid that he was being tricked, “you’re dead, Spot. You died three years ago, I saw-” He cut himself off, choking a little as he lifted a trembling hand to his mouth, trying in vain, not to breakdown, “How?” He repeated.

Spot took a small step back, wavering a little where he stood as Race’s words sunk in, “What?”

Race cocked his head, “What’s what?”

“I...I what?”

“You...died,” Race said again, softening slightly, “Do you not remember?”

The world seemed to rush away from Spot and suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he could hold himself up.

“No,” He said, his own words sounding miles away, “I don’t remember...anything really.”

“Jesus,” Race sighed, finally removing his hand from the doorknob and reaching out towards Spot.

Spot closed his eyes as Race’s palm found his cheek, relishing in the feeling of human contact. Kind human contact. He reached up his own hand, placing it over Race’s and squeezing it. He felt his own tears well up in his eyes and he moved Race’s knuckles to his lips, kissing them fiercely. Then, he was being pulled into a hug. Warmth and intimacy enveloped him as he melted into the embrace, taking hold of the back of Race’s shirt in tight fists.

“I thought,” Race forced through clenched teeth, “I thought I was never gonna see you again.”

Spot burrowed his nose in the crook of Race’s neck, drinking in his presence, “I’m so lost, Race,” He admitted, pulling back, “I have no idea what’s going on and I don’t know why I can remember you and where you fucking live, but not what the hell happened to me and-” he dropped his head against Race’s chest, “I’m fucking scared.”

Race gently coaxed his head up. They studied each other for a moment, both at a loss of what to say. How do you handle seeing your lover after fuck knows how long? Especially when you apparently died.

Race opened and closed his mouth a few times, then he reached down and carefully took both of Spot’s hands, “Let’s go inside.”

“Yeah,” Spot agreed, relieved that they weren’t attempting to piece through the daunting puzzle right away.

Race took a measured breath, keeping one of his hands intertwined with Spot’s as he lead him into the apartment. Spot couldn’t remember much of what it looked like last time he was there, but it seemed to be dimmer now- more sullen. The living room was strewn with various sheets of paper. Some were crumpled, some were in perfect shape, but none of them looked organize. Spot could see Race’s messy scrawl on each sheet, noting how the font on some of them looked larger and angrier than others. The carpet beneath them had a few questionable looking stains on them, the scariest being the small, rust red one near the couch. The others simply looked like old beer stains, which wasn’t much more comforting.

From what Spot could see, the rest of the apartment didn’t look much happier. All of it seemed dim. Places where Spot was sure pictures had once been mounted were bare, showcasing instead the dilapidated wallpaper and rotting wood. It didn’t seem to be a pleasant environment to live in.

“Oof, sorry ‘bout all this,” Race said, hurriedly picking up an armful of paper from the couch and dropping it bluntly on the floor.

Spot carefully avoided stepping on any of the papers as he made his way to the couch, sinking into the cushions, “What is all this anyway?” He asked, gesturing to the mess that surrounded them.

Race flushed, eyes casting downwards as he sat next to Spot, “Oh, uh, after you, like, died...I kinda didn’t handle things too well,” Spot’s brain immediately flashed to the alcohol stains that painted the carpet, “so after a few months of...that, Jack forced me to wade through my shit a different way. So, I, uh, I started writing.” He finished sheepishly, still avoiding Spot’s gaze.

Spot looked down at the mound of papers next to him, curiosity driving him to reach out towards one.

“No!” Race’s voice froze Spot in his actions, “Uh, I kinda don’t let anyone read them. They’re kinda...well, I just don’t like people reading them.”

Spot nodded slowly, receiving the signal to change the subject, “Jack, huh? How is he? How is everyone? Just how much did I fucking miss?”

Race chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “So much, but uh, everyone’s...fine. No one’s great per say. Haven’t really been since...yeah, but we’ve all managed. Some better than others…”

They were quiet for a moment, both lost in separate memories. Spot couldn’t recall much of his friends, but it was all slowly ebbing its way back into his mind. It was as if Race’s apartment were a catalyst to all the experiences he’d lost when he’d allegedly passed away.

“So…” Spot started weakly, fearing what his question might bring, but the thirst for any kind of answers outweighed his uncertainty, “I died?”

Race nodded solemnly and Spot plowed on, “How?”

Race squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pressing the heels of his palms to his forehead, “Fifteen gunshots to the chest. Right through your heart. That’s what the autopsy determined anyway.”

“I was...shot? Multiple times?” Spot asked, dumbfounded, “Are you sure?”

“I mean, no,” Race said, leaning back against the arm of the couch, “It’s not like I saw it happen, but I did see your body at the morgue and there was a gaping fucking hole in your chest, so…” he trailed off for a moment, frustrated energy emanating off of him, “I don’t fucking get it!” He burst out suddenly, “You were dead! I watched them bury you!”

Spot stared dazedly at his hands, “I don’t get it either, because,” he worried his lip between his teeth, lifting his shirt to reveal his chest, “There’s no gunshot wound, not even any evidence that there ever was one.”

Race’s eyes widened and leaned forwards, ghosting his fingers over Spot’s left pec, right above his heart.

“That’s impossible,” Race murmured, “You were shot clean through.”

Spot hunched away from him, allowing his shirt to drop back down, “Yeah, well, apparently I wasn’t.”

Race dropped his head into his hands, “None of this makes sense.”

Spot idly picked at the dried dirt on his cheek, at a loss for words, “No, it doesn’t,” He said after a pregnant pause.

Race looked at him again, the previous grievance giving way to adoration, “It’s really fucking good to have you back,” he shifted so that he was leaning into Spot’s side.

Spot ran a hand through Race’s curls, working his fingers through the tangles and knots. How hard had Race taken his death? If this was still him after three years, how bad had he been in the beginning?

Spot dropped a kiss onto the top of his head, “It’s really fucking good to be back.”

hi yah so i popped this on ao3 the other night so chap 2 is almost done but yah dont yell at me

also fun fact remember the scary teaser i posted earlier? thats from chap 2 so yeehaw brothers

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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#newsies #newsies fic #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #sprace #oof #dont clown me please ik #ik ik

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lost-in-your-own-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Girl of Glass

In a world where the people would be made of sticks and stones armed with steely knives and words that slither and stay,

She was made only of glass, covered in a thin layer of paper and tape.

See it held her together in a world where sticks and stones broke your souls, and our mouths were caverns that should have never been explored, but out to be silent in the black mist as they set fire and burn to ash our little paper walls, oh we could wish that our bodies were far humbler Halls, and instead of trauma and despair held love and a body still left untouched and not scared.

Because those steely knives, those rods of steel, they stay and play at night, where nobody will hear the tears. Because they pray and bite at your mind until you become numb or shattered and nothing but the hollow shell of someone who you used to know. Unknown to be true, can't seem to believe that the words "I love you" can be true.

Say "I'm fine" and laugh, but really your cracked, "I'm tired" and smile, though the real one hasn't shown in awhile.

In the end she was nothing but a frame to be used by paper mache, and a vase that knew way too much for her age.

And change and change and change she did, because no matter how she looked or acted or how things changed, she was so young, so her mind thinks that its the calm before the wave. Cuz if she got a little too happy the things that once held her fragile hands would be the same to scrape and scratch at her newly polished glass, and quiet she was, but her mind was too loud, filled with the blood they made her bleed out.

Because she was betrayed at a young age, thrown in the battlefield before she made it to the first grade, learned how to survive in a world where you need to know if someone was bullshitting you because that could be your life or your reputation.

Learned that sometimes men are immature, and women are not always to be trusted, that family can even lie and betray, oh the child's mind should have been left alone, didn't you know,

Children are supposed to believe in fairy tales...

Went back and forth from a home to a pit of nothing but agony and dispair, the homes were different, not just in acts but looks I swear any sane person would have seen right through it in a minute.

From a home where responsibility was key and the house was clean and mom had you surrounded by who you considered your real family and fun, to a house held by a father who didn't work nor pay bills, dove into alcohol and drugs, and lived in a pit of filth with his mother and father who seemed to condone it still.

A man who slept in nothing but boxers with his children, they were old enough to bathe on their own but father's mother couldn't get the picture. He seemed to not care about his daughter and more about his son, then contradict it all by calling him a after teaching him it was ok and fun.

We were only kids, but mistreated by him, so much so we don't remember most of the things he did.

It's been 6 years now, since they've last seen him. But still his picture would be a horrific thing to the victim.

From young the girl made of glass learned to thicken her core, she didn't want to feel like that anymore.

But the girl made of glass went through more than just that,

Their was a house fire that had her move far, to a place unknown,

Leave the ones she called friends and say goodbye, she moved to a new neighborhood and looked out the window as they arrived.

That was her second year of second grade.

The girl made of glass, found new friends in the third grade, though when things got ugly, they proved they weren't real anyway.

"your a girl you can't do that" staff told her when she wanted to play sports, not like she cared, she did way she wanted to, to stay happy and sane since she was still dealing with back and forth shit, and her father had a dog he beat with his cane.

Fourth grade was hard as she lost most of her friends, started pulling her hair out another coping mechanism, because distract and distract her mind she did, ignoring all her pain till she couldn't feel it. Was the last year she saw or heard from her father, that was good news at last.

Fifth grade came by, all the kids hated her, teachers too, but let's not go there. It's when she started to isolate and keep to herself, but boys loved her misery and dragged her into the boys bathroom, crying she was no longer unscratched glass on a shelf.

The first guy she liked played with her emotions to get what he wanted, said if she didn't touch him or let him touch her he'd leave her, truth be told he was the only actual white boy she knew, said he was from Texas had and older brother and a younger sister she adored, made quite the impression, though their relationship never went far. It was on and off and he even cheated on her with a guy, same one tried to screw her on the bus during senior trip, but lol she wasn't having it.

They called her "white chocolate" at school because for her ethnicity she was pale as paper with chocolate hair and eyes, She didn't know much but apparently you're not Hispanic if you can't speak Spanish.

The kids in the middle and high school that were also in the building tended to look over the stalls in the restroom and make fun of her, and the girl with glass afraid to use public restrooms after that.

The girl made of glass had long chocolate hair, that was until the fights were no longer fair. It was groups of girls that jumped her, and not only the girls, but then she cut her long hair short so she wouldn't be thrown against a brick wall again like a raggedy Ann. The fights still persisted, and she was the only one not winning and getting into trouble at the school.

She cried and cried and cried so many tears. "You only have to push it out for the rest of this year. Then it'll be a new school new you."

She held on to that till she made it out of 5th grade, little did she know 6th grade was almost close to the same.

But the boys were more "respectful" she could say, they all hated her and called her ugly and one beat her with a bat. But those hands she had were for healing and not for beating people so she couldn't even fight back.

Too many kids from elementary school were there, I guess you can say at least the kids kept it verbal for the most part. She told the staff but nothing was done, treated like a desease and they made fun of her and called her things like "ebola" or skinny freak" that's how she met her group of friends, who stood up for each other, I guess.

By 7th grade the whole ebola thing was off but she could still sense that nobody wanted anything to do with her so she kept to herself. She made herself busy, to forget her pain, she was in a band where she put her emotions and pain into the music, because it was her blood.

We aren't even going to talk about her relationships in this year. But there was I believe, one.

He was good for the most part but because of her past after she collapsed in the middle of the street he didn't help her and stood with his friends and laughed, she didn't want it anymore because the one to help her was her best friend.

Year 8. The year of the seniors. Let's just say it got so bad, police were involved, she dated her best friend but he broke her heart, dated someone else who she in turn broke their heart, and then dated another who left her for a friend. Though it's not like she blames them. She was starting to hate herself more in the end. She's stopped too many suicide attempts and was bullied on end, the school had to change her class and thing finally started to smooth out but she felt like the only one in a crowded room. She was loved by the teachers and the friends that stayed, but she was lost for her own self love.

She avoided going to the nurse because grades were everything. "Your worth nothing if you don't have anything to prove your worth" her mind taunted.

She was sent to guidence, but they are idiots because it's not like they could really help anything. she was way too good a faking till her mask came off at night.

Then one fateful evening, her father messages her and she feels like the breath was stolen from her lungs as flashes of periods she can't even remember went through her mind and she had to excuse herself to calm down and once she did she blocked him.

9th grade. She had only dated Hispanics up until this point minuses the non-binary pal she was with for a short period of time.

She makes new friends but is careful. Her mind doesn't believe that anything stays good for long.

She dated this boy who was a actor and dark skinned, like sweet caramel mixed with chocolate with light blue curly hair. He was a weeb, charming, nice. Though, he kind of smelled like blood and was just as cracked as her, if not more.

They said "I love you" but his was a lie. She was not only second girl but he also cheated on her and the first girl with a guy. And he bragged to her friends about the girls he saw when he was admitted to a mental hospital. When she gave up her time to visit him and show dedication but it just seemed like it didn't matter. Because he broke her heart the second time. He was her second time saying the words "I love you" and she ment it, the first was the best friend that she dated that she no longer spoke to.

It didn't matter she blamed herself for trusting him.

She then she met a new guy a couple months later. They couldn't see each other in person and the cronavirus pandemic happened so it's not like that made it any easier so they were on FaceTime a lot. He makes this girl of glass feel like her cracks and everything about her is good. He makes her feel normal, is patient and sweet. He's funny and smart. And looks at both sides of the story before jumping to any conclusions. And he was a healthy mix of immature and mature that made her smile and laugh and also taught her things.

So maybe, in a world where she was a girl made of glass, she was unique and she couldn't see it yet.

(the video isn't mine)

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shirleenshamsie · 4 years

Text

Shouta Aizawa x reader

You sighed as you pulled off your long black wig and set it on its stand. "hey Affi," you cooed as your cat jumped on the bathroom counter to greet you. "let me just take off my makeup and I'll get you dinner." You gave her a kiss on the head as you scratched behind her ears, making her purr loudly. You watched yourself in the mirror as you wiped off your lipstick and eyeliner, silently noting everything you'd have to change for tomorrow. It was your first day at UA and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared shitless. You put food in Affi's dish and a little more water in her bowl before throwing together a lunch and breakfast-to-go and throwing both in your mini fridge. Finally, you stretched as you laid down on your bed. Affi jumped up and curled up against your side as you turned on light classical music to help you sleep and your alarms to make sure you didn't miss your first day.

You stood at the front gate with anticipation. You choose not to wear your wig and instead showed your short light purple hair. You wore a plain dust mask with the excuse of bad allergies and anxiety, but it was really to hide your face. You took a deep breath, hitched your backpack up and started into the building. Class 1-A. You waere a few minutes early, quickly finding a seat at the back of the room. You took out your notebook and a pen and waited with anticipation. You were surprised when the teacher walked in caring a sleeping bag. Jeez, he looks as tired as you feel, but there was a rugged charm about him that caught your attention. 'Shuota Aizawa, I like it. Wait, fuck, what am I thinking? I shouldn't even be thinking about that, he's my teacher, he just sees a high schooler and it needs to stay that way.’ You let out a quiet, frustrated sigh, mussing your hair under your hat so it covered your eyes more.

We were all led outside to do physical tests to test the limits of our quirks. Of course, you were at a disadvantage from everyone else, your quirk is mental. You effectively failed the combat part of the entrance exam but aced the written portion. You got pulled into a meeting after the entrance exams where your quirk was tested, and they accepted you. Now we’re supposed to use our quirks to show how physically powerful or strong we are? This is stupid. You gotta be honest, you’ve heard rumors that Aizawa is a tough but good teacher, but this is disappointing. How can he be a teacher here and not understand that not every powerful quirk is physical? Nevertheless, you held your own in most of the tests, you’re not a slob so you were above average in many areas so far. Mr. Aizawa’s words echoed in your head during these tests. ‘I was going to be expelled on the first day. Maybe if I can just do better than Midoriya…’

“F/N L/N.” Mr. Aizawa stopped you as you were walking up to take your turn on the long jump.

“Yes, sir?” You lowered your head but kept eye contact with his as he spoke.

“You don’t need to hold back your quirk in these tests, you can do what you need to do to perform your best.” He spoke in what we quickly learned was his trademark bored tone.

“With all due respect,” You broke eye contact and looked at the ground in front of you. “these tests are unfairly biased to people with physically powerful quirks. Not all powerful or useful combat quirks are physical.”

“What is your quirk exactly, your file only says ‘Soul capture’, explain it.”

“I can take someone’s soul out of their body and hold it captive in my mind. Conversely I can also force my own soul into someone else’s body and control it as my own.” The class filled with murmurs as people talked about your quirk, but you couldn’t quite hear what they were saying.

“Hmm.” Mr. Aizawa thought for a moment before turning to the class causing them to silence instantly. “Does anyone want to volunteer to lend Miss L/N their body?”

“Wait, what!?” You yelp in shock. The class stayed quiet for a moment before Iida stepped forward.

“I’ll do it, it would be very interesting to see personally how this works.” He said standing tall.

“Good, L/N, lets see what you can do.” Mr. Aizawa stepped back as Iida approached you.

“What happens to me when you . . . possess me?”

“U-um, it’s like going to sleep for you, you won’t remember anything. A-are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, I can figure it out myself if you don’t fee-“

“It’s okay Y/N, just don’t kill me,” he gave a halfhearted chuckle, but you could tell he was a little nervous about this.

“I promise I won’t.” You reach up and put a hand on his shoulder, activating your quirk.

Third person POV

The class watched in anticipation as Y/N put her hand on Iida’s shoulder and her eyes turned black with glowing red iris’s. Without warning, Y/N’s body went limp as Iida effortlessly caught her in one arm before he looked at the other, balling his hand into a fist and stretching his fingers out again. He gently laid Y/N’s body on the ground before walking to the start line and quickly stretching his legs. The class watched him get in position, close his eyes with a deep breath, before running even faster than he was before and taking a leap. They watched in amazement as he jumped much further than his first jump, but it wasn’t really Iida, it was Y/N in there doing the jumping.

“Woah, she did better in Iida’s body than he did in his own body!” Uraraka exclaimed.

“Good, now give Iida his body back.” Mr. Aizawa stated as he made scribbles in a folder,

Y/N walked back over to her unconscious body and got down on her knees before Iida’s body slumped and Y/N’s body started moving again.

Iida groaned slightly before looking around. “Did something go wrong? Did it not work?”

“It worked just fine, L/N told you that you wouldn’t remember anything.” Mr. Aizawa stated before calling up the next person.

Reader POV

You told Iida what you had done while you were possessing his body as the rest of the class continued the long jumps. You explained the ergonomics of what you had done compare to his own jump as well as a few other tips to make his movements even more efficient.

“I never thought about doing it quite like that, I’ll be sure to remember that. Thank you, Y/N.”

Class finished smoothly after that, Mr. Aizawa didn’t pressure you to possess anyone else for the tests which you were thankful for, you don’t like possessing others unless you must. The whole class was relieved when Mr. Aizawa said he was bluffing when he said he was going to expel the student in last place.

“Miss L/N, I need to speak with you.” He stated as everyone gathered their belongings to leave. Well crap, that’s never a good sign. Even you knew that, and this is your first time going to school. You slowly approach his desk as the last of your classmates exit the room. “Relax L/N, I’m not going to bite you (OH WHAT A LIE!!! Sry). I wanted to talk to you about your quirk and this class.”

“Yes sir?”

“I want to make sure you realize you are going to have to work harder than your classmates in a lot of areas because your quirk is not physical. Are you going to be okay with that?”

“Yes sir, I know my quirk isn’t flashy or anything, but I’m still determined to stay at UA no matter what’s thrown at me. And you’re proof that you don’t need a showy quirk to be a pro hero.” I looked down as my face headed up. Am I blushing? Thank god for this mask! You look up and to your surprise Mr. Aizawa was trying to hide a light blush on his own face.

“Good, well as long as you know this won’t be easy for you. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He stood up grabbing a stack of papers and left the room.

Did he blush at my compliment? He’s probably not used to compliments, he’s so cold to everyone they probably don’t try to talk to him much unless they need to. You wonder how he’d react to a more direct compliment, what would go through his mind? You shook your head and tried to clear the thoughts of him. You look at your watch. Yeah, I got time to stop for food before getting ready for work.

Aizawa POV

This has never been an issue for me. That felt like an honest comment of admiration which I don’t often deal with so directly. But what’s really causing me an issue is the feelings stirred inside of me, they’re unfamiliar and I don’t like that. Get your mind out of the gutter, I’m not a pervert or pedo, but something is different about her. She’s very… mature. She may look 15 or 16 especially with that mask and her shy act but there’s no way she’s actually that young. That mask somehow makes her shy act a lot more adorable… wait WHAT?? NO! Stop thinking about that you idiot and do your work!!

I grunted as I hit my head on the table before running my hand through my hair and pulling the stack of papers closer to me.

Your POV

You finish stuffing the food in your mouth as you slip into the bar, holding your long cloak shut and clutching your bag to your chest. The bar wasn’t open for the night yet, so you relaxed as you headed for the stairs.

“Oh Y/N” you hear the velvet baritone voice sing.

“Not now Haru, I need to get ready for work.” I called behind me as I ran down the stairs.

“Then I’ll help, darling we both know if I let you dress yourself, you’d look homeless.” He said as he followed.

Is it possible to be any more of a queen? You thought to yourself. “Fine, only cuz I don’t want to hear your comments all night.” You say as you took off your mask, hat, cloak and start undoing your uniform. You had no issues getting undressed in front of Haruto Takumi, I mean why would it bother you? He is your designated gay best friend after all. Plus, he’s right, you have no sense of style. He’s also the only one that knows you falsified records to get into UA and is all in with helping you lead your double life. You know full well it’s partially for selfish reasons though.

“Soooooooo?” He asks excitedly as he pulls out a monster truck shirt with a methodically torn back and a pair of ripped skinny jeans.

“Sooo?” You ask playing dumb.

Haru dramatically throws the clothes down on the bed as you head to the bathroom to ready your wig. “Did you get to see him? All Might? Is he as breathtaking in person? How tall is he? How big is he? Not down there, I wanna find that out on my own, I mean like his muscles, his pecks, are his abs really like a washbo-“

“DUDE! You really need to get yourself a boyfriend. Seriously, I’m not answering those questions for you.” You say, stepping out with your long, wavy black wig now secured on your head.

“Ugh, can you at least get a picture with him so I can get an idea?”

“He’s five foot four in real life.” You state bluntly as you pulled the shirt on.

“WHAT?? NO, THAT’S NOT POSSIBLE!” Haru looked heartbroken for a second before you burst out laughing.

“We haven’t met him yet, but you should have seen your face just now.”

“You bitch. You can finish getting yourself ready for that. You know you have to sing tonight right? Did you get the setlist?” He asked from the door.

“Yeah, thanks.” You grumbled. You really love singing and music, but you’re expected to sing a specific … kind of music (think in this moment, blood, whore, sick like me, ect.). You have fun performing but you wish the music was almost anything except that stuff, it grinds at you after a while not to mention the strain on your voice to scream all the time. Your primary job here is security, with your efficient hand to hand combat skills not to mention your quirk, the owner was practically begging you to work for him after seeing you in an underground fight. ‘You’re pretty, you look pretty harmless, and you can quickly take down a bunch of aggressors, exactly what I need.’ Was more or less what he said. You said sure and started working there after your 18th birthday so it was all legal. That was almost two years ago now and you couldn’t believe it. You hummed to Affi as you put your lip ring back in and applied makeup before giving her a small snack and heading to work.

__________

If you want to read more please go to my wattpad, I’m going to try to continue the story there.

https://www.wattpad.com/866712246-yours-truly-first-day-of-school

Thank you :)

#mha #bnha #aizawa shouta #bnha shouta aizawa #aizawa x you #future lemon #aizawa #bnha x reader

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lumosinlove · 6 years

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I have a request! So Basically it takes place when the marauders are in school, maybe around year 5 and Sirius is distancing himself from the others, even Lils cuz his boyfriend is kinda abusive and controlling and Remus finds out and asks for help from James and Pete or maybe lils.... idk I just like the concept and maybe Sirius and Remus get in a fight and “Why do you even care about me, Re?!” “Because I love you, Sirius!” And they do that cliche kiss. Thanks if you do!

So, I sort of strayed a bit from the prompt but I hope you enjoy anyway!!

Remus was sure the thought that he would gladly murder Alex Silenson without even a blink entered his head at least once a day. It didn’t matter where they were. Charms? He’d be careful not to get blood on the summoning cushions. The Great Hall? Well, he supposed some people losing their appetite was a risk he’d have to take. The dorms? He’d close Alex’s curtains and worry about the body later.

They were dark thoughts, but since Alex was the someone who got to kiss Sirius Black on a daily basis, Remus deemed them appropriate.

They had just entered Transfiguration, and McGonagall was poised primly at the front of the room, a fluffy bird in hand that made Remus feel almost positive they would each be taking home their very own fluffy feather dusters at the end of the day.

“Settle down, please, and take your seats. You’ll each find an owl has been provided for you. Please do not extract them from their cage until I say so.”

Remus felt a shoulder bump his and he looked over, finding Sirius’ bright, gray eyes, “Wha’do you reckon Minnie will do if I set our two free?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “You know Pads, people are going to stop recognizing you soon, you’re in detention so often.”

Sirius just laughed, sliding his bag off his shoulder and slouching down onto the desk bench beside Remus. Remus set his bag down more carefully, rummaging for his notebook, when a shadow fell over them.

“Sirius, what are you doing?”

Remus froze, fingers tightening around the binding of his Transfiguration book, and kept himself well bent over his bag, heart sinking.

He felt the weight of Sirius’ pause in response to his boyfriend’s question, and felt the even heavier, forced laugh that followed.

“What do you mean, Al?”

Remus straightened up then, setting his quill and ink in front of him. He felt Alex’s gaze flicker to him and returned it only briefly, flashing what he hoped was a casual smile. His shoulders, tense and nervous, were anything but casual. Alex looked back to Sirius.

“I think you missed the perfectly free seat next to me.”

Sirius set his textbook on the desk, “I just thought I might, y’know, change it up a bit.” He sent Alex another grin, but it faltered under Alex’s gaze, “I—I mean, just for today—“

“Come on.” Alex picked up Sirius’ textbook, and proceeded to stalk towards the back of the room with it.

Remus, inexplicably to himself, suddenly felt a strange sort of panic. They both watched him go for a moment, and then Sirius looked back, the light gone from his eyes.

“Pads.” But Remus didn’t know what he wanted to say. What could he say? You don’t have to go. Please stay. He’s not good he’s not good he’s not.

“I’ll catch up with you tonight.” Sirius supplied a weak smile, shouldering his bag. He dropped his voice to a whisper, just for Remus, “Kitchens for cake?”

Remus nodded, almost minutely, afraid someone might see. And he hated that, hated feeling like he was disobeying some law for wanting to be with Sirius. Alex was just a boy, and a bad one at that.

You don’t have to sit with him.

But Sirius was already gone.

Remus was glad, at least, that Alex wasn’t in their year. He was in the seventh year dorms, an entire staircase away from their sixth year ones. That also meant that Sirius was also generally a staircase away too. As he was tonight. While Remus put slippers and a sweater on to venture down to the kitchens, he looked at Sirius’ empty, unmade bed. That was the part that had been the hardest to get used to in the beginning. Surprisingly not Alex’s presence all the time, disrupting the dynamic of their group, but the lack of Sirius’ presence. He was almost never around anymore. It had gotten to the point where class was their biggest social event. Remus put his sweater over his head angrily, but the bed was still empty when he came out the other side.

He opened the dorms door, trodding lightly down the stairs and into the common room.

“Hey,” James grinned up at him from the loveseat by the fire, head in Lily’s lap, “wanna bring me back a slice?”

Lily looked up from the book she was reading, “Oh, me too?”

Remus rolled his eyes, laughing, “Well sure, but I don’t know how late it’ll be.” He nodded at James, “How was Quidditch earlier?”

James flopped his Charms textbook open on his chest, “Quid got cancelled. Something about rogue plants from the greenhouse…” He trailed off, then shrugged, “Didn’t want to get involved.”

“Huh.” Remus was only half listening, already moving towards the portrait hole, mind on being alone with Sirius, “Well, two slices of cake. Got it.”

Remus loved the castle at night. It was quiet, and he could trail his fingertips along the walls and swing around corners. He could get a good look at all the portraits without the portraits looking back. It wasn’t a long walk, just down a lot of stairs, past the Hufflepuff common room. As he eased the wooden door open, he saw only a few house elves lingering about, flashing him smiles, but no Sirius.

He got nervous for a moment, glancing around at the huge fire places and polished tables, mind automatically racing through how long he should wait before accepting that maybe Sirius wasn’t coming—

“Moons! Over here.”

Remus turned, relief flooding his system, “Oh, there you—“

Sirius winced, but whether it was from the look on Remus’ face, or the black and blue on the high of his left cheek, Remus wasn’t sure.

“Fuck.” Remus maneuvered around the tables quickly to get to Sirius, stopping directly in front of him. He reached out, unable to help himself, then stopped, fingertips inches from Sirius’ cheek, “What the hell?”

Sirius waved him off, he ducked away, instead pushing the cake towards Remus to slice up, “S’nothing.”

“Sirius.” Cool dread was starting to trickle into Remus’ veins. If this was what he thought, he thought he’d take all those stairs two at a time back up to the common room and strangle Alex in his sleep. “Sirius, what happened?”

“Nothing.” Sirius smiled up at him, shaking his head, “Nothing, Re. Fletchner got a little rough in Quidditch today, that’s all.”

And the dread wasn’t cool, it was ice, freezing over and thawing and freezing again. Remus saw James from a few moments ago, sprawled in the common room.

Quid got cancelled.

Remus didn’t realize he was still standing, inches from Sirius, until Sirius scooted his chair back, trying to play it off like he was giving Remus room to pull his own chair out.

“Should I cut the cake instead, then?”

Remus sat down slowly. He didn’t think he could even smell the cake, much less eat it right now, his stomach was in too many knots.

Alex put his hands on you. He wanted to scream, He knows everything you’ve been through and he put his hands on you.

I’d be better. This was the part of his brain he tried so hard to quiet, I’d love you so much, I already do.

Alex hit you. You’re lying for him.

“Why are you—“ Remus didn’t know why the words were stuck in his throat.

Sirius pushed right on ahead, “I’ll cut it then.” he pulled the plate towards him with a huff, picking up the knife with a white-knuckled grip.

And Remus let him. His hand was steady, despite the grip, and Remus wanted to shake him, to pull the truth out of him.

“I…” Remus swallowed, “I was just going to say. Why are you always so reckless in practice?” His voice shook against the force of the lie, “You know how James will mother you.”

“You know how James gets in practice. Crazy lad.” And just like that, any sign of Sirius breaking, any sign of the mask cracking, was gone, spello-taped back together, and he was smiling, pushing a generous slice of chocolate towards Remus.

And Remus smiled back, almost feeling relief, because it was never like this anymore. There was always someone else around. He wanted to push, wanted to get Sirius to tell him what really happened, but at the same time he wanted to believe that it hadn’t happened. Because it was never like this anymore. Always a boyfriend, or a class to be getting back to. He hated it. He hated it, and he loved this. This, these quiet moments.

“Right.” Remus picked up his fork, “Right, yeah, I do.”

He felt Sirius’ eyes on him as he took a bite, but when he looked up they had flitted away.

“Anyway,” Sirius was saying, “it isn’t as bad as it looks. He wasn’t even going for my face he was just…” Remus watched Sirius’ expression get a little foggy, eyes far away, back in the moment of the hit, whomever’s hand it had been, “into the game I guess.” Sirius blinked, looking down and stabbing at his cake, “Happens to all of us, right?”

No. Remus thought. No, it doesn’t.

Remus barely jerked as his copy of the daily prophet was pulled from his hands. Alex grinned at him, food in his mouth.

“Mind if I have a look?’

Remus looked at him deadly, flicking away the small corner of newsprint that had ripped in his fingers, and picked up his fork, “Didn’t give me much of a choice.”

Alex laughed, and flatted the paper next to his eggs and sausage. He barely raised his head as he pushed his glass towards Sirius, “Poor me some pumpkin juice?”

Remus stabbed his fork into his eggs and looked determinedly downward. He didn’t want to watch Sirius get pushed around.

He heard Sirius’ voice with an edged, seemingly casual laugh to it, “S’right there.”

Remus couldn’t help it. He glanced up then, neck still bowed down, through his eyelashes, and watched Alex’s face change. He straightened, fingers drumming on Remus’ stollen paper. He was staring hard at the table, muscle working in his jaw, “So?”

Sirius was looking just as hard at his own copy of the prophet, turned slightly away from Alex. Remus could see his bruise more harshly at this angle, “So, I’m saying it’s perfectly in your reach.”

“Why are you being difficult?’ Alex’s teeth were clenched and the phrase came out a bite, “It’s just juice.”

“I’m not.” Sirius drained the rest of his own glass and made a move to get up, “I’ve got class—“

“Sit.”

Remus straightened in a second, feeling James do the same beside him. He had a feeling that both of their eyes were trained on Alex’s tight grip on Sirius’ shoulder, so high up that it was nearly his neck.

“He has class.” Remus heard himself say, “What’s your issue?”

“It’s just,” James parroted, eyes cool, “juice.”

Sirius closed his eyes, lowering himself back to his seat. His shoulders were hunched away from the grip, head turned awkwardly to the side. Remus was ready to lunge across the table.

“What?” Alex looked between him and James, eyes cool, smile verging on wicked, “It’s not big deal. We’re just sorting this out, right Siri?” When Sirius didn’t answer right away, Alex reached forward, palm against Sirius’ jaw, and stroked the greening bruise on Sirius’ cheek with his thumb, “Right, Sirius?”

“Stop.” Remus felt all the air leave his lungs with the word, “Stop.” He was standing, hands pushing the juice pitcher right into Alex’s lap where it spilt, sloshing its contents all over his robes.

“Jesus fucking—“

But Remus didn’t stop to hear his exclamations. His eyes were on Sirius, on the way he was still trying to make himself small. Remus felt something in him snap at the sight, felt some string inside his chest slowly springing part and unraveling. And he let it, suddenly wishing it had snapped a long time ago, and stepped onto and over the long great hall table in one stride, making it to Sirius’ side, and taking his bag from the seat for him.

“Pads.” He glanced nervously to where Alex was still spluttering, throwing vague curses at the laughing onlookers, then back to Sirius. Remus didn’t know how to tell him that he needed him to follow him. He didn’t want to sound demanding, not like Alex. He didn’t want to grab Sirius in any forceful way, but he needed, needed him to know, “Sirius.” He whispered, his fingertips just barely brushing the side of Sirius’ palm where it was flat against the table.

And Sirius looked up from the floor, saw Remus with their bags, and swung his legs out of the bench. He walked ahead of Remus out of the great hall, fist clenched. He didn’t look back to see if Remus was following him until they had made it a good four floors above the Great Hall and into an darkened hallway.

Only then did he turn around, cheeks wet, chest rising unevenly. And Remus was right there, dropping their bags to the floor carelessly. Remus wasn’t sure if he was allowed, he didn’t know what made him do it, but his hands were on Sirius’ cheeks, carefully avoiding the bruise.

“I—“ Sirius’ chest jump, breathing harsh and face breaking, “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I don’t know why—“

And Remus’ own chest ached with the look on his face, like he’d done something wrong, like Remus would be mad. He was anything but mad at Sirius, if anything he was angry with himself.

“You didn’t have to tell me.” Remus shook his head, “I knew. I knew the second—“ Remus closed his eyes, dropping his head, “And I didn’t say anything. I don’t know why either.” He felt the burn of tears in his throat and he looked back at Sirius, thumbs stroking the new tears away, “I hoped I was wrong. I wanted to be wrong so bad.”

“I wanted it to have not happened.” Remus could feel Sirius leaning into his touch as he spoke, and his heart picked up, “I wish it never happened, I wish all of it never happened—“

Remus shushed him softly, thumb moving to press a curl of hair off his temple, trying desperately to make it better, “I know. I know, I…” His words trailed off, breath dying in his lungs at how Sirius had suddenly pressed their foreheads together. “Sirius.” His voice barely came out.

“You’re so gentle, Re.” Sirius’ hands came up to Remus’ neck, one resting at the back of it, the other pressing over the back of Remus’ palm, “Always, you’re so… It’s everything. With everyone, it doesn’t matter who it is, but I feel it so much. In the way you look and touch and speak.” Sirius let out a soft sniff. He was still crying, but he was practically cradling Remus’ face now, instead of the other way around, palm having moved to Remus’ cheek, Remus’ dropped to Sirius’ chest. Sirius’ words were quiet, even in the space between them, “What have I been doing? Remus, what have I been doing?”

Remus let out a breath, “I…” They were so close. Remus was desperate. He could just lean forward and…That was what Sirius was saying wasn’t it? But after what had just happened he pulled up short. His hands moved to Sirius’ neck, feeling his heated skin, but he willed himself back, “God, Pads, your cheek. You need—“ Remus shook his head, “I can’t believe he hit you.”

Sirius closed his eyes, “I can’t believe I let him. Jesus, I could stand up to my mother, and not to him?”

“It’s not your fault, Pads—“

“No, I know.” Sirius closed his eyes, lashes brushing his cheeks, “I know, I just. I feel—“ He looked at Remus again, really looked at him, eyes flicking to each part of his face. His gaze burned, “I feel awake. Or something. I feel like I’ve been wasting time.”

“Wasting time?” Remus whispered. Sirius pushed the hair off of Remus’ forehead, palm a warm pressure that made Remus’ eyes close, his voice shake, “What do you m—“

Sirius kissed him instead of letting him finish, hard and insistent, salty and gentle. His fingers held Remus’ neck softly, thumb brushing over Remus’ bottom lip when they broke for air, “This.”

Remus let out a breath and pulled their mouths back together, suddenly unaware of how he ever survived before this second. Sirius’ words were muffled against his mouth,

“I mean this.”

Remus’ back hit the wall and then they were pressed together, “God—“ Remus couldn’t help it, he started smiling, “Pads.”

Sirius’ lips moved from his lips to his cheek, his jaw, “What’s so funny?” He pressed a lingering kiss to Remus’ cheek, “I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long, Merlin, there’s so many of them.”

Remus laughed, pure, giddy, relief-filled and borderline tearful, “What?” He threaded his hands in Sirius’ dark hair, bent to press a kiss just above the collar of his shirt, “What?”

“Freckles.” Sirius sighed, “I love them.” His lips peppered kiss after kiss, “I love them, I love them, I’ve been wasting so much time, Merlin.”

Remus shushed him, thumbing over his bottom lip, “We’ll make it up. It’s okay, god, my cheeks hurt.” They both laughed, “Those tides turned quickly.”

“Well.” Sirius brushed their noses together, “You always make everything better, it seems.”

Remus bit his lip, grin softening. He carded his fingers through Sirius’ hair a few times, felt the way he leaned into it, “I don’t really feel like sitting in class. Do you want to… I don’t know, grab breakfast in the kitchens? Maybe bring it back to the dorms…” His eyes trailed down to Sirius’ lips, and he watched has they parted slightly before shifting into a grin, eyes bright.

“That,” He leaned down, picking up their bags before lacing Remus’ fingers with his own, “feels like all I’ve wanted forever.”

Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’ knuckles, “Well, we’d better go then.”

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #the marauders era #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fluff #the marauders era headcanons #wolfstar headcanons #wolfstar fic #wolfstar ficlet #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #wolfstar fanfic #hp #writing #the marauders

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rktingyan-blog · 5 years

Photo

𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭; 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. (𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

for as long as she could remember, music has been a part of tingyan’s life. from the worn out chinese records her parents sang along with, to the upbeat kpop songs she enjoys dancing to now. whatever the occasion, tingyan’s not often found without her earbuds in. these are some of her favorites, and the songs which represent her wild side the most.

not that type - gugudan

i lack a little in patience in calmly waiting i just do what i want i’m different from them i can’t be submissive or gentle i do what i want i can’t beat around the bush i’m not that type i’m cool like that

unlike what many may think, tingyan’s not shy in the slightest of displaying her romantic interest form anyone. she doesn’t see it as being easy at all - everyone has romantic feelings, what difference did it make if she announced hers? she likes flings that go like her life - fast. she’s never one to take things slow, and it’s evident in the way she says what she wants and attempts to get what she wants in every scenario that’s laid out for her.

binu - bibi

they say she’s weird something in her head, doesn’t know if she can hear it do you know how i keep myself clear how i wash it off the smell of alcohol and cigarettes kissy hickey & shit the lie i tell today and the bad decision of yesterday do you know how i keep myself clear i wash them off with soap

sure, tingyan does bad things once in a while. she’s fully aware, and though she’s not too keen on admitting that out loud, it doesn’t mean she can’t acknowledge she’s got a few issues. but the way tingyan lives is so spontaneous that regardless of what trouble she gets into, she tells herself that if she has a positive outlook about it things won’t turn out as bad for her.

touch - anda

because of love, i’m a hurt person i have no money, i’m a hurt person a stupid hurt person you know it. even if my heart is suffocating, tonight i’ll forget it a fiery friday, crazy night touch, touch, touch cuz’ if you gon’ be mine you don’t have to waste your time

there are days when tingyan feels as low as she had been years before, and the true tingyan behind all the lies and masks can be seen. where does she go when she wants to hide these vulnerabilities? the club, of course. to her, wild nights are a way to forget all the stress life brings and simply try to replace the bad memories with better ones.

the weekend - sza

you say you got a girl and how you want me how you want me when you got a girl? the feelin' is wreckless of knowin' you're selfish knowin' i'm desperate gettin' all in your love fallin' all over love, like do it to last, last hanging out the back, all up in your lap like is you comin' home? is you out with her? my man is my man is your man her, this her man too

tingyan is a model, of course, but she’s got another moneymaker she’s more secret about - getting cash by being this woman’s arm candy, this man’s fantasy girlfriend. rather than ashamed herself, she keeps quiet for the negative connotation others see. all types of people are looking for a fun time, so that means several of the people she gets with are married or in some sort of relationship. of course, she’s not their real girlfriend - in most instances, she’s simply there for conversation, and only when she loses her professionalism do things head sexual. but there are the times she grows an attachment to the people she sees, and what once was meant to be a mutual arrangement turns into feelings of bitterness on tingyan’s end when she feels she’s getting the short side of the stick.

dalla dalla - itzy

i don’t care for love there’s much more fun out there in the world sisters tell me i still have a long way to become mature i’m sorry sorry, i don’t want to be mature, nope just pretty but not attractive at all i’m different from the kids i love myself bad, bad i’m sorry i’m bad, i’m just the way i am it’s such a little time to care about what others think i’m busy doing what i want to do my life, i will live my own way, don’t you care cause i’m special, yeah

tingyan was so used to a life of structure and insignificance that, once she got to korea, she vowed to live with no regrets. though she may be called out for her wild behavior and recklessness, she sees it as an act of defiance against the treatment she got back home. in fact, she embraces her changes, living bold and shameless without a care as to what others think of her lifestyle.

roll deep - hyuna (when she’s feeling herself lmao!!)

there’s never anyone who doesn’t know me wherever i go, they wanna touch me look, this was always my swag if you have a problem with that, just give them water it’s all because i’m the best it’s because i’m pretty it’s because they’re all jealous baby i’m bad all day it’s all because i’m the best it’s because i’m pretty it’s because they’re all envious sorry, i’m a dope girl

after tingyan got surgery, she got a surge of confidence that simply cannot be missed. of course her views of herself have got her called names such as conceited and snobby, but she really doesn’t pay people any mind. she knows what she’s capable of, so she doesn’t let others invalidate her, so is sure to remind anyone who tries to cross her of it.

gogobebe - mamamoo

it’s ok to not be fine it’s ok not to be ok be thick-skinned and have fun drop drop drop gogobebe throw out the suit and tie dress code: bling bling bling you and i, we mix and match don’t avoid it, drunken drunken gogobebe be thick skinned and party go crazy, have fun don’t need no wrong & right on & on on & on

while she still does have some insecurities, living in gangnam has taught tingyan to live confidently. almost everyone she crosses in the district exudes self-acceptance, and that’s what she’s trying to do. slowly, she’s getting to know who she is and is enjoying living her youthful years experimenting and just...having fun! she’s lost a lot of the strict routines she once had, instead living for her own enjoyment rather than the fulfillment of someone else.

black magic - little mix

take a sip of my secret potion i'll make you fall in love for a spell that can't be broken one drop should be enough boy, you belong to me i got the recipe and it's called black magic

tingyan is the (self proclaimed) queen of charm, using her charisma and looks to get ahead. she’s known to be a flirt in most scenarios, and even if she has no true interest in you, it simply isn’t a conversation with her unless some sort of pickup line slips out. she likes to joke that she’s an enchantress, and despite the illegitimacy of her claims, that she can seduce anyone.

#❝ spotify. ❞#rkplaylist #forget tingyan these are MY SONGS

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cheerioss · 4 years

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corn, mazes, and- umm... was that supposed to happen??

omygoooood im so very late for halloween. but hey, better late than never right?? hehe im totally right :> this is yet another adventure of sprinklebug and gummy chat so prepare for sprinkles!! hehe

reposting cuz idk it was super weird for me.

—

Corn mazes were fun. You find your way around tall rows of corn to the other end with your friends after some trick or treating. Sometimes there’s a scavenger hunt with the biggest stack of candies as the reward, or mini games and puzzles to solve, all while meeting dead end and spooky monsters who try to steal your candy. Paris had one set up every year, and this time was no exception.

It had the same spooky craziness that all corn mazes had for halloween; the mayor went all out this year especially. This halloween, however, the heroes had been invited to partake in the scaring of maze navigators. And they wholeheartedly accepted because, what is halloween with the same old boring scares with nothing interesting like their favourite heroes attempt to steal your sweets? They wanna have fun anyway.

Hawkmoth seemed to have agreed, as there was no akuma floating around that night. Yet. A hero must still be on the lookout. Villians never give then a break, even if it is for halloween.

Gummy Chat was there first, dressed as Tuxedo Mask, or the cat version anyway. He had the super suit on, so all he could do was wear a cape, a top hat with holes for his cat ears, and a white mask over his black one. His eyes still remained green and cat-like as ever, not like he could do anything about it. He did try to add a bowtie, but the bell was there, which made it pointless. He was fond of that bell though, and figred it would make his outfit more original.

The hero was pacing by the entrance of the maze when he saw Sprinklebug arriving. Sprinklebug, who was currently wearing a big sprinkle shaker as her costume. Like no seriously, she just had on a giant bottle that said “RADIOACTIVE SPRINKLES”. She also covered her hair in sprinkles, the pastel specks in stark contrast to her black hair.

“Uhhh… Sprinklebug? Did you run out of ideas?”

“Hey kitty. And no, I didn’t run out of ideas. I’m SPRINKLES!” She wiggled in delight, sprinkles falling out of the sprinkle shakers that were in her hands which Chat didn’t notice either. She then got a good look and Chat’s costume and then asked, “Who are you wearing right now though?”

“Did you forget? I told you just last week that I was coming as Tuxedo Mask! Or should I say… Catxedo Mask? Get it? Cuz I’m a cat?”

One blink, two, three. And then…

“Catxedo? Really? That makes no sense and shows how much of a weeb you are!”

“Hey! I took forever to come up with that!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

The banter went on until the person-in-charge of the maze spotted them. (hehe pun totoally not intended) He– well they think he was the guy from the ice rink– went over the rules and how they go about managing the maze, as well as safety precautions. And then they were left to roam the maze to plan out their positions and stuff before the first maze navigators arrived. They then decided they will pop up at random places to increase the scare factor.

Time to have some fun.

—

Sprinklebug and Gummy Chat were having the time of their lives. They’ve managed to catch many off guard, the kids loving it and begging for a picture taken with Paris’ beloved heroes. Previous akuma victims came to give their thanks yet again, returned with “We’re just doing our job to keep Paris safe.” Sprinklebug squealed over the little ones who dressed as her, gushing over the sprinkles on their cute little heads.

They tried to solve the riddles they found. Sprinklebug thinks Chat’s answers are ridiculous, but when he gets them right she claims to have known all along. They still made no sense though. Got to know the nice popcorn lady, who gave them a genorous amount of cinnamon sugar popcorn as thanks for their protection everyday.

Even their classmates came to the maze, Alya practically begging for an interview. The others just stare in awe. (Woah duuuuuude! Marinette and Adrien are missing out on so much!) No one noticed the super duo momentarily tensing, and their nervous chuckles are taken to be just humble embarassment.

Everyone was happy, no dark evil butterflies are fluttering, and everything was good.

That was until some popcorn came raining down on everyone. Accompanied with screams that just harmonised with the maniacal laughter of a figure floating in the sky. Ah, sprinkles, and here they thought Hawkmoth loved halloween enough to leave it alone.

“Sprinklebug, Gummy Noir, where are you? Hand over your miraculous NOW!”

It brings them relief that they need not hide to transform. Chat can finally live out his dreams of doing the cape thing and being all cool with his top hat. Sprinklebug was worried about her sprinkle costume getting ruined and it’s hard to fight in it, so she’s gotta find another way.

Chat went ahead first. “The name’s Gummy Chat, but since Gummy Noir has a nice ring to it I juuuuust might consider forgiving you for that.” His cape billowing in the wind while he stood tall with his staff held out in front of him, touching the ground and in both hands.

He only got popcorn thrown in his face as a reply.

The villian, Popcorn Lady as she called herself, didn’t seem to be doing anything much other than talking about how her popcorn is the best, so Sprinklebug simply wrapped her yoyo string around the popcorn tart, that was popping popcorn kernels like mad when Popcorn Lady threw them in. She tugged it into the nearby corn, giving the machine a whole ton if corn to pop. Not that she noticed.

Then a quick snap of the popcorn scooper (it was obvious where the akuma was) while Chat was carrying out distracting duty and the akuma was purified. No lucky charm or cataclysm needed! Gee, Hawkmoth must have been lazy or out of creativity juice today. That was the lamest akuma yet! the sprinkled heroine thought. The purple fog disappeared to reveal the popcorn lady from earlier right as the popcorn machine burst open in an extemely humongous explosion of popcorn.

Everyone popped their head out of the mountain of popcorn. They were super confused about what just occured. Kim was apparently swimming around in it, not caring in the slightest.

“Oh, deary me, I’m sorry! I was pretty upset about someone insulting my popcorn.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Blaise. We can’t help but feel upset when an insult gets thrown our way sometimes,” Sprinklebug reassured her with a smile, tone slowly becoming cheery. “But lile I always say we should just have some sprinkles and move on! Also is this supposed to happen?” She gestured to the popcorn around them with her head. Chat shrugged to the best of his ability.

“Huh. I’m not sure if Miraculous Sprinklebug is gonna work on this big mess here since I don’t have a lucky charm, but before that… you know what this needs?”

“Oh no… Here we go again…” came the muffled groan of Gummy Chat.

“SPRINKLES! Radioactive sprinkles everywhere to brainwash everyone and make them my minions!” She then proceeded to throw her sprinkles around the pile of popcorn they were stuck in, her best evil laugh filling the air as she tried to look as evil as possible. But if you ask anyone, she just looks more adorable then anything.

Best. Halloween. Ever. Even if the akuma was one of the worst Hawkmoth has come up with. (Chat still says Mr. Pigeon was the worst.)

#sprinklebug #gummy chat #adventures of sprinklebug and gummy chat #spooky but not actually spooky #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ml #mlb #chat noir #ml ladybug

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