#probably more...got my mom a sewing kit too...

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 13

This is it guys, the chapter of this fic. I have had an absolute blast writing and even more so reading all the comments and tags.

This last chapter is dedicated to all those who wanted the moms to bring Steve into their fold. This was also chance for Steve to rip on the haters without fear of his parents ire.

Thank you so much for all the love and support for this little story.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

****

Claudia was waiting at the Byers’ front door when Eddie pulled up in his van and Steve hopped out.

“Eddie!” she cried happily. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Hey, Mrs. H,” Eddie said with a wave. “I’m just dropping Stevie off. We’re hanging out later.”

“That was sweet of you, dear,” Claudia cooed.

Steve in the meantime was pulling things out of the backseat of the van. Eddie looked over at him.

“You need help, darlin’?” he asked over his shoulder.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thank you, though.” In lower voice he muttered, “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

Eddie gave Steve’s forearm a squeeze and then waved at Claudia. He backed out of the driveway and was soon gone from sight.

“We’ve got all sorts of surprises for you today, Steve,” she said gleefully clapping her hands together.”

Steve grinned at her. “Mrs. Peterson here yet?”

Claudia shook her head. “She’s always at least fifteen minutes late. Something we were banking on actually.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

But Claudia just ushered him inside. He set his stuff down and then handed her a tray.

“I made blondies,” he said, “I hope you ladies like them.”

She peeled back the foil and gasped. “Steve they look amazing!”

Joyce came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. “What looks amazing?” she asked peering over Claudia’s shoulder. She, too, gasped when she saw them. “Steve, you didn’t!”

Steve grinned. “Your sons always eat the ones I send home with them before they even get home, so I figured you’d appreciate these.”

She kissed his cheek. “You are a dear.”

Claudia laid them out on table next to all the other treats.

On the coffee table were a bunch of things under a large sheet with clowns on it.

“The three of us,” Karen began, “wanted to do something extra special for you after hearing what fun our children had at the Fair because you made sure they did. So we each contributed something toward your love of sewing.”

She lifted the sheet. Underneath was a beautiful sewing kit in navy blue, a light green Singer sewing machine that looked older than he was, and a stack of old patterns.

Steve’s lip wobbled as he raised his hand to his mouth in shock.

“You didn’t have to do this, ladies,” he whispered.

“The sewing kit is from me,” Karen continued. “It’s a beginner’s kit, but it has fabric scissors, a seam ripper, bobbins for your thread and different kinds of needles.”

Steve sat down and pulled it onto his lap. He opened it and as he lifted the lid, the top tray pulled back revealing the tray beneath. “Thank you.”

“The sewing machine,” Claudia said proudly, “is the first one I ever owned. When I got married I got a new one and I’ve been using that ever since. But this ol’ girl has a lot of love and life left in her, and I want you to have her.”

Steve looked up at her, tears forming in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll break it? Or that my parents will find it and destroy it?”

Claudia knelt in front of him. “It’s gonna be kept at my house until you get a place of your own. You’re there all the time to see Dusty anyway, no one is going to notice that you’re there to sew now, too.”

“Plus,” Joyce said with a grin. “It’s a Singer. They’re a little hard to break. They’re one of the best machines and it will probably outlast your children. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Steve nodded, his lip quivering. Claudia kissed his forehead and stood back up.

“The patterns are from me,” Joyce said. “Whenever I would have a little extra money I would pick up a pattern or two at the drug store and bring it home. I picked a handful that I thought you’d like since you’re primarily making costumes. And if those work for you, next week I’ll bring another handful you might like.”

Tears started flowing down his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you. This is best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Oh honey,” Joyce said softly and suddenly Steve was being hugged on all sides by the moms.

They stayed like that until there was a knock on the door.

“That must be Olive,” Claudia said with a sigh. “I bet she brought those brownies that are totally store bought even though she insists it her grandmother’s recipe.”

Steve snickered. “My mom used to do that. I don’t think she fooled anyone either.”

Joyce grinned over her shoulder as she went to go answer the door. “Olive, dear! We were just getting started.”

“Oh?” the bright voice on the other side of the door cooed. “You’re usually in the full swing of things by now.”

Steve bristled. That meant she knew she was late and was doing it intentionally. He hated people like that. Acting like the rest of them were peasants meant to be waiting on her.

“Steve was just showing us the costumes he made for the kids for the Fair over the weekend,” Karen said sweetly as Steve hurried to get the things he brought to show off out.

Olive stepped into the house with a sneer. “I think it’s so sweet you’re indulging the boy, but I doubt he can hold a candle to Claudia’s years of experience.”

Wow, Steve thought. Not only did she insult him, but she insinuated Claudia was old. What was with this old bag?

Claudia smirked. “It’s true that I’ve been doing it for longer, but Steve has a real talent for it. Come see.”

Olive walked into the front room and Steve was struck by how much she reminded him of his mother. She had perfectly curled hair with not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were fitted and showed off her figure. Her makeup was flawless.

In short, Steve hated her on sight.

Joyce handed her the shirt he had made for underneath his tunic. It was flawless but understated.

Olive took the shirt and scoffed. “You couldn’t have done this, Harrington, you shouldn’t lie to your betters.”

Steve was already seeing red. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then.”

Joyce clapped her hands together. “All right, let’s get started. Steve, you can eat as much as you want, but just make sure to keep it away from other people’s projects.”

Steve smiled at her sweetly. “Of course!”

He knew that what she was really saying was that Olive Peterson might try something.

He sat in the armchair away from her and she glared at him.

“Is it all right if I work on my project first before you teach me how to use the sewing machine?” he asked just as she was taking a drink of punch.

Olive was forced to turn away and cough into her hand to avoid spraying everyone with the lemonade that Claudia had made.

Karen’s smile was feral. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, right, Claudia?”

“Of course not, Steve,” she replied warmly. “Just let me know when you want to learn and I’ll come over and help you.”

Steve nodded. He pulled out the materials that Eddie suggested he bring and got to work.

Eddie really liked that Steve’s bags had a lining because it protected the dice better, so Steve had brought along some materials he could use for that as well.

About halfway through his first bag, Joyce called out.

“Steve? What’s that pattern you’re putting on the bag?”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “It’s my signature! I embroider it on everything I do to make sure people can’t pass it off as their own.” He handed the bag over to her.

“Oh!” she cried in excitement. “This is the design you put on Will and El’s costumes when you did their alterations, right?”

Steve nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you made the clothes, but I thought it was a cute way to tie the two together like they were twins.”

“It was perfect,” Joyce said. “El still hasn’t stopped talking about how pretty your design made the dress.”

Steve blushed as he took the pouch back from her.

“I was talking to someone at the Renaissance Fair,” he said shyly, “and she wanted me make them clothes and things that she would sell for me. She even told me to make business cards in case someone wanted to commission me directly.”

“Oh Steve!” Karen cried. “That’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and tilted her head. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. That pattern is beautiful. I would love a handkerchief with that on it.”

Steve straightened up. “Yeah?”

Karen nodded.

“What color would you like?” he asked excitedly.

Karen tried to protest but he wouldn’t let her. In fact he managed to convince all but Olive to let him make them one for them.

It did, unfortunately take him to the end of the two hours, but he was excited to come next week.

“I’ll even host it at my place!” he said with a grin.

Olive sputtered. “Well I won’t be there if it’s at this young man’s house. That’s so inappropriate.”

The three other ladies looked at each other and then shrugged.

“Your loss,” Karen said dryly.

Olive stormed out of the house vowing that as long as Steve was part of the group she would never come back.

“Well that is a relief,” Joyce said, “I’m not the kind to speak ill of anyone, but we really got quite the upgrade!”

Karen clapped her hands. “Indeed. I can’t wait for next week. I’ve got a new project I’m starting and I found the best recipe for a chocolate mousse that I’ve been dying to try out.”

“Same time next week, ladies?” Steve asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claudia agreed.

Then there came a loud honk.

Steve looked out the window and smiled. “Looks like my ride is here.”

He gather up his stuff, including the patterns and sewing kit and walked out to Eddie’s van.

He slid into the front seat.

“You have fun today, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pulling out of the driveway.

“Yeah,” Steve said looking fondly at the house. “This has been the best weekend ever.”

Eddie grinned. “Well, it’s about to get even better, just wait to you see what I have planned for us today.”

Steve smiled as Eddie regaled him with his plans and nodded along.

Life was really looking up. He had a platonic soulmate, good friends, an amazing boyfriend, a hobby he enjoyed and could make real money from, and now a group of people to share that hobby with each week.

And to think it all started with a flier about the Renaissance Fair coming back to Hawkins.

“I can’t wait,” he breathed once Eddie was done.

Eddie smiled that sweet smile at always turned Steve’s insides to mush.

Yeah, Steve could honestly say that he was happy.

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @gregre369 ​

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

@danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

@useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss

@croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv

@dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter @cryptid-system

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Costume malfunction (Discord Drabble) My brain went "Steve's butt" the second I saw this prompt 😇

"Oh no!"

It sounds innocent enough as Eddie walks down the hall to Steve's bedroom, his friend's voice sounding both small and sad. He rounds the corner into the bedroom and just about falls over at the sight of Steve standing in front of his full-length mirror – examining the rip in the black leather pants he is inexplicably wearing.

The unexpected apparel makes Eddie want to scream and curse at the Halloween gods above.

... But he settles for covering his mouth, only barely concealing a gasp as he stares (oh, how he stares!) at Steve's exposed left ass cheek.

"Shit!" Steve says as they make eye contact in the mirror, slapping a palm over his butt just as Eddie notices a cute cluster of freckles he decides he must see one last time before he collapses on the floor to wither away.

"Uh..." he drawls, taking his hand from his mouth to clear his throat. He thinks he is shaking his head as he splutters away, "Um, uh... Why the - uh... What's with the p-pants?"

He screws his eyes shut, nose crinkling up.

He hears mattress springs creaking and opens his eyes again to find Steve sitting on his plaid bedspread, looking utterly dejected.

"I just wanted to have a cool costume," he sighs before looking up, "One that you would think is cool."

"Gettin' all dressed up for me, Steve?" he says, sauntering and not at all stumbling to the bed to join him.

He sits down way too close considering Steve is probably now even more ass-out than he was before. But Steve giggles, bumping shoulders.

"I barely got the fly laced up before they ripped!" he manages to get out as he quickly descends into a full belly laugh.

He shouldn't have said that because now Eddie is doing everything not to look at his crotch as Steve practically doubles over. He settles for grabbing Steve's arm, momentarily tethering himself to reality as he stops him from falling square off the bed.

"You, uh... want me to fix them?" he offers, smiling brightly at Steve's reddening cheeks as he pulls him back upright.

"Yeah!" Steve blurts out, mid-wiping away a laughter-induced tear.

They both still and fall silent.

Steve nervously rubs (or at least attempts to) his palms on the tacky leather of his pants. He gulps, eyes darting about as he mulls something – perhaps this – over.

He runs a hand through his hair, his go-to classic smooth move as his voice evens out.

"Don't know how I can take them off without ripping them more..." he wonders aloud, shrugging it off.

Eddie nods along slowly, eyes widening as Steve turns his head and smirks. His eyes flit to his lips.

"Maybe if I laid down you could fix them?" Steve continues, voice quieter now.

"Where's your mom's sewing kit?" Eddie whispers, watching as Steve looks over the suddenly very inviting (and no longer hideously brown) bedspread behind them.

#idk should this have a mature tag bc I've said ass three times??? #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #stwgdailyprompt #lilys drabbles #steve x eddie #👕🧥

[goldnhourwrites]

Not enough people talked about these so I'm gonna do it myself because oh my god (commentary and headcanons below, it's just long)

Sett has a little travel-sized sewing kit in his bag... it's so tidy... sett stitching things back together when his bandmates rip them...

Sett just casually carries around like 20+ pounds of dumbbells. Mans is literally always working out. The grind never stops.

"yo Ezreal can you grab my bag for me?" "Yeah sure--what the FUCK do you have in here? This thing weighs a hundred pounds."

His little exercise headband... and is that a hair tie behind it? Sett with his hair tied back??

Sett's energy bar collection. Sett's the type of person to pack an entire backpack full of snacks for a road trip.

Ezreal has a plushie OF HIMSELF on his bag.

this guy practically collects aesthetic glasses. 3 pairs in the bag plus the circle ones he had in PARANOIA.

Sharpie (for signing autographs???) His signature on the polaroids of himself???

The photo under the lip balm looks like it might be Ezreal and Aphelios. Ezreal's the type of person to make sure he has photos with all of his friends. Ezreal hanging up his favorite polaroids in his room.

can we talk about the all-white fit in the very bottom photo omg

Aphelios has back-up headphones for his headphones.

WHO SENT THE SNACKS. WAS IT ALUNE. WAS IT SOMEONE ELSE.

The writing on the note looks like Korean but unfortunately I don't know any Korean :(

his sticky noted book... is it a journal? is it full of lyrics? who put the little smiley face sticker on the front!! does he write in it!!

I love the idea of Aphelios just pulling out a little keyboard whenever he wants to write down a tune. How well can he play the piano? Only enough to write music, or does he have songs memorized? Does he ever play for anyone?

K'SANTE'S DRAWING TABLET

he's not just in charge of putting together their fashion, he designs it himself. i'm going to scream

I am in love with those glasses. I need art of k'sante in those glasses ASAP. i will do it myself if i have to.

What is his book!! What does the W stand for!!

The way the button on his gloves matches the one on his jacket in his LoL splash art. This tiny detail is driving me insane.

Also, the cologne? The top is the same as his necklace? Does he have a specific personal cologne? So elegant...

Kayn's Pentakill guitar pick. Let me see him play the guitar I beg

The crumpled up receipts. This man goes Shopping (also see: cash, various coins). And he just has a bunch of random shit in his bag because he never bothers cleaning it out.

the open leaking bottle of hair dye. please. do you NEED that

The random jewelry... I love the idea of him either a) taking it off, shoving it in his bag, and forgetting where he put it or b) bringing backup drip with him everywhere in case he needs more

While Sett, Aphelios, and Yone all opted for headphones, Kayn's gone with good old-fashioned corded earbuds. Does he not like headphones? Is it because they mess up his hair?

Big ass box of matches and For Why? Does he smoke? Is he too cool to carry around a lighter? Does he just like setting shit on fire?

Yone keeps a little emergency travel kit. Band mom energy. He's got band-aids and a toothbrush and toothpaste At The Ready.

Bottle of lotion? Yone with a skincare routine? Yone who stays moisturized? Everybody in Heartsteel asking Yone for lotion?

Earplugs (for sleeping on long bus rides, maybe?) I want to see Yone going "I'm sick of this shit" and tuning the fuck out.

Yone is the only one with a real headphone case. Aphelios has his around his neck 24/7, but his wireless earbuds have a case. Sett's just shoving his in there with twenty pounds of dumbbells and hoping for the best.

Yone's got so many little gadgets and I don't even know what they all are. He has his laptop and (probably) his phone, plus a smartwatch, and maybe a portable charger? He's that prepared.

I can't tell what the object beside his smartwatch is (looks wooden?) If anyone knows, let me know? I'm so curious

This man's got even more stuff inside his bag. Yone doesn't leave the house without like fifteen things in case of an emergency.

good news everyone. i'm still losing my mind over them

#heartsteel #heartsteel sett #heartsteel ezreal #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel k'sante #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel yone

[sunflowerkiwis]

Drama Queen

You tend to Harry’s wounds after a small fight

word count: 628, she’s short and sweet

tw: mentions of fighting, needles (sewing), a couple swear words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ow.”

“Calm down, you big baby.”

Harry flinched again and hissed at the stinging alcohol against his knuckle. “‘M not a baby,” he muttered under his breath.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes, but with the thickness in your voice, it sounded more like ‘shore’. You were… disappointed, to say the least. “You wouldn’t be flinching and hissing if you weren’t such an idiot.”

Harry stilled.

Your words came out harsher than you intended them to. You didn’t mean to hurt him, but then again, all words came from somewhere and you both knew that.

Looking up, you could see his hurting eyes, reflecting yours. “I’m sorry,” you placed a hand on his cheek. Your hand was cold due to the alcohol in the cool bathroom air. “I’m just… I don’t know—I’m confused, H. You’re not violent, you think things through. I guess I’m disappointed,” you looked down at his cut knuckles and nudged at his hand, “Where’d this come from?”

This—the rash decisions, the impulsive pull of his arm, the harsh contact of his fist with probably another man’s face. It wasn’t like him.

“‘Dunno.” Harry looked down at his feet, hanging from the counter, like a scolded puppy. His voice lowered, “He was talking about you.” He, some guy you’d barely met from Harry’s management.

You tilted your head. Talking about you?

“He—fuck,” he winced as you padded his knuckles with alcohol again, “he was talking shit about you and saying stuff… bad stuff.”

“What’s ‘bad stuff’, Lovie?” You didn’t have to look up to see the hesitancy in his face.

“Don’t wanna hurt your feelings…”

You smirked. “Well it ain’t gonna hurt me more than him,” you let out a light chuckle.

The corner of Harry’s mouth turned up, not at the joke, but at the sound of your laugh. Although, it went away as soon as he realized there wasn’t a way to avoid this—not with your persistence and determination.

“He… he said you don’t deserve me and you’re—” his gaze moved from your face to his lap. From the corner of your eye, you could tell he was hurt too. “—that you’re ‘just some dirty chick who’s looking for money’.”

You threw away the alcohol pad and reached for a medical kit your mom had given you under the sink. Harry took a deep breath, bracing himself, remembering he still had a bad cut in his cheekbone that needed tending to. Your mom was a nurse and she’d given you this in case of emergencies, when you were younger she’d taught you lots of medical things like how to properly clean wounds and how to throw some stitches one, too. It was time to put those skills to use. You were always thankful for her and everything she taught and did for you. You always knew you’d need it someday, you just never thought you’d use these skills to help Harry recover from a literal fistfight.

“Jackass,” you said under your breath, standing up.

“Yeah,” Harry observed as you got everything ready. “I don’t know how it happened, it went by really fast. Just felt my fist hurting when it hit his face and then he hit me back. It’s all kind of a blur but then I kicked him out and came upstairs to you.”

You’d heard some loud, muffled words from downstairs, but you couldn’t tell if it was them shouting or a show they were watching, as you were watching one of your own in the bedroom and keeping to yourself.

He flinched when you brought the needle close to his face and your raised your eyebrows in a scowl at him. “H, I haven’t done anything—and you’re numbed.”

He gave you a sheepish look. “I thought it’d hurt.”

“Drama Queen.”

#harry styles #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction

[ghostlyshellofapuppet]

141 x crafty gn reader

Ok it's only August but I've started thinking about what I'm going to make my family for Christmas to start early, and this fic mentions nothing about Christmas. Also I'm newer to writing so if you notice something weird or not good please leave something in the comments to help me get better

Price

• Doesn't know anything about crafts except how to make those ships in bottles, wood working and glueing things together. Can't even imagine being able to make the things you do, seeing the process and the finished results, Price wouldn't be able to finish it or think of that in the first place.

• Is very proud of you once he sees you finish something, still doesn't know how you do it, but very proud. Any paintings, knitted items, clay objects, wood burning pieces, anything you make he is complimenting. You put so much time, energy and thought into that and you made it, good job.

• If you need help with anything Price will try, he's not the most crafty person but he has very steady hands. But if you happen to need help with something wood, he's got you, it's in good hands. Price has been woodworking since high school and it's never left him since he used to make small things on missions when he had nothing else to do

• I feel like if he had to pick another craft to pick, he'd be decently good or pottery, give him a little bit to find what pressure to use when shaping but will eventually make a mug for you

Ghost

• As much as I want to say he's into crafts, I can't see it that well. Yes he can sew but anything other than that and it's kind of a mess, but he likes watching you work and your processes. Watching you being so focused on something you didn't even hear him walking into the room with a drink and food for you since you've been at this for hours, and he loves that you can just relax like this, ( if you have been on the edge of giving up on it), but please take a break, you haven't blinked in two minutes.

• Ghost will take you to craft stores and just wander around with you, he likes messing with those posable hand models. He will also happily buy you whatever you want/need, more wire, a cake decorating set or also long as you don't burn yourself a wood burning kit

•If you tend to have most of your best ideas at night he tries to stay up with you so you don't stay up too late, but he can be distracted if you try to make him help. If not he's checking the clock every five minutes trying to decide when would be a good time to stop you

Gaz

•Likes pottery but doesn't do it often, he doesn't have a place too. His mother has a pottery studio he can use if he's but most times he's on base or out on missions. He can do some designs on the pottery and has an eye for details but isn't great with a paint brush.

• Also likes seeing you make stuff, Gaz used to watch his mom make new mugs and plates for the kitchen and would sit with his grandma listening to her stories. He finds it relaxing.

• Would help you with anything, Gaz can do a good amount of small craft just from stuff he's picked up over the years. He can sew, build and design very well and would love doing projects with you. You want to build a new coffee table, he's already getting ready to go to the hardware store.

• Gets excited towards the end of projects, seeing everything come together after working on it is very satisfying for him, especially if it's something you or can use. Build a table, he can't wait to set his drink on it.

Soap

• Is very happy when he sees your crafts and will want to show you his drawing if your interested. You also paint/draw, he wants you and him to draw each other and trade them at the end.

• Probably ok at other crafts but still tries. Don't let him around hot glue or resin, he doesn't mean to make a mess but he does, resin is on the floor and he likes playing in the cooled down but still moldable hot glue.

• He's likes watching you make stuff if he's tired but would like to help if you're okay with it when he's more awake. If you want to do crafts without his help he's also good with just drawing in his book, probably drawing you.

• Will cheer with you when you finish a project, if you've been working on it for a really long time it calls for take out, a movie and possibly more art supplies.

If you made it down here thank you for reading and I hope you liked it

#cod x reader #fanfiction #x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #cod #141 x reader

[miramilocamimira]

Request: Mirabel decides to run away and Bruno comes out the walls to go with her to "protect" her (we all know Mirabel is the fighter in this duo). They settle into a new village and are going by a new last name. The family doesn't realize she is gone for three whole days (say Antonio is busy getting used to his gift and helping the community).

Okay I am so sorry for taking a while to respond but this prompt took a while.

————

Meet The Diaz family!

————

Mirabel wiped the tears from her eyes. Abuela had implied not only that she was lying or imagining, but that she was drunk as well. Her mom tried to help.

She decided to write a letter for Antonio. She decided she’d leave it in his toy basket.

She didn’t have a choice, did she? She never stood a chance. “I’m sorry Casita. I just… I can’t stay here.” The tiles around her jingled as she and Casita packed her things.

Her sewing kit, two spare outfits, some fabric was folded neatly into a bag. In the bag, she added in some of her creations as well.

Casita helped her down to the kitchen where in her mochila, they gathered some extra arepas and one of their knives.

“Goodbye Casita.” She says as she walks out the door, unaware of a pair of eyes following her.

————

Mirabel had made it to the base of the mountain when she heard rustle of the leaves behind her.

“Hey! Mirabel! Wai-!” Her fist made contact as she swung around in fright. The person falling down in pain. “Holy-!!”

“I’m so sorry! I just there was the leaves and I don’t know you and I am so so sorry!” She cried out as she knelt beside him, pulling out one of the arepas she brought.

“It’s okay, I scared you.” He muffles out, holding his nose with one hand. He takes and eat the arepa. His nose healing and hand moving away.

No way. It’s her uncle.

“Bruno?”

—————————-

After a brief reacquainting, Mirabel finds her self with an extra set of hands as they make their way out of the Encanto. Bruno tells her why he left. Why he followed her as well.

She doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a vision with her on it. One that keeps changing. She sighs as she asks her Tío about his ratnovelas.

At least she won’t be alone.

————-

They make it out and it takes a while but they finally find another village. She sells a couple of the outfits she’s made and makes enough to get them a place to sleep for the night.

Her uncle gives the innkeeper a fake family name. Diaz, he says.

“Out here we’re not Madrigals anymore.” Bruno tells her as an explanation. The room is small and cramped but there’s a window, a bathroom, and a chair. He tells her to take the bed.

They make a plan to ration the arepas until they can get a steady income.

“Goodnight Mirabel.”

“… Night Tío.”

—————-

Bruno and her both set out to get jobs the next day.

Mirabel is able to sell more of her creations when she happens upon a seamster. The man compliments her work and asks who trained her.

She tells the truth. She’s taught herself and the man tells her to meet him tomorrow at his shop.

Tells her, he’s always got a spot for people with talent.

She’s happy when she tells her uncle and is surprised when he’s happy for her too.

He surprises her again with a present.

“I did a couple visions for people. And on my way back, well, uh…. You like making things right?” He says as he hands over some more fabric. “I know we need to save some money but it was cheap, I swear! And I just…” She hugs him and buries her face in his ruana. He tentatively hugs her back.

—————-

Antonio is exhausted. He didn’t realize the animals and villagers had so many disputes. And the past couple of days Abuela had him stay by her and Isabela.

Isabella and Mariano got engaged and Dolores seemed really sad. And even worse, he hasn’t been able to see Mirabel at all. And every meal time when he asks, everyone says she’s probably just sewing.

Which seemed weird since Mirabel always made sure the table was set and was present for every meal before.

He decided to play with some of the toys she made him when he found it. Reading through it, tears welled up. Mirabel had left.

Gripping the letter tightly, he sobbed as he ran to his mom.

—————-

As the days turned into weeks, Mirabel got a job as an apprentice seamstress. Bruno, however, was made to stop giving visions when she found out how much they hurt.

Lately, he’s been acting out his ratnovelas and writing them down. The rats all wear outfits she’s made and people have been adoring them.

“Welcom home sobrina!” Mirabel hears as she walks in. “Might not be as good as your mom’s but I made arepas!” Mirabel grins. This was so much better then at encanto.

“Sounds great, Tío!”

#encanto #encanto spoilers #bruno madrigal #mirabel madrigal #fanfiction encanto #runaway au

[thebreakfastgenie]

jasmine and abelia for the ask game! -ypq

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

I answered this one but let me see if I can think... okay so I actually hated Wuthering Heights except when I was reading it because it was assigned in high school I was in a weird depressive slump and the only thing that made me feel better was reading that book. So I got way ahead of the class because I would just go home curl up and read it?? Idk it was weird. I couldn't stand most of the characters and didn't care for the style but I was so attached to it. But I doubt I'll ever reread it. 

Oh and Little Women! My mom read me Little Women when I was like seven and I was riveted but I probably won't reread it and I refuse to see any movie version because Little Women to me is my memory of the book. If I ever changed my mind I'd reread the book first. We also read the two sequels, Little Men and Jo's Boys because I insisted on it. 

And I enjoyed the original Jungle Book a lot as a kid but I hate Rudyard Kipling so much I doubt I'll ever read it again... I suspect to an adult the racism in that book would really jump out. 

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

I have the Bead! I wore it constantly (except for showers and swimming, sports, things like that but I did sleep in it) for years, but now I only wear it occasionally because of the wear and tear. It's a cheap plastic bead, it wasn't meant for this. I will never ever part with it although I did lose it for over two years a couple years ago and I had a breakdown about, tore my room apart more than once, my mom called a hotel we'd stayed at in case I left it there... and then it just turned up. Which is so fucking in character for the Bead, but let me explain the backstory. 

My friend Christi and I really loved animals, and we'd bring these happy meal toy sized The Dog stuffed animals to school to play with. One day we had a button that had fallen off another friend's coat, and we used that as a puck to play "nose hockey." (We were in fourth grade, air hockey was the coolest game ever.) Then our friend needed the button back so it could be sewed back onto her coat, so we needed a new puck. We found leftovers of these extremely cheap kits we'd used to make a keychain as a father's day craft, and commandeered the round, flat bead. It was red plastic and originally had a simplistic drawing of a car on it but that's long since rubbed off. 

One day we were playing nose hockey on the sidewalk and the Bead fell into a deep sidewalk crack. We thought it was irretrievable, but we tried anyway, working together with sticks. It ended up flying into the air (which we did not expect, we were just trying to roll it) and we caught it. So we began to suspect it was magic and could not be lost. I took the bead home for the summer, and it disappeared from the spot I left it in. Months later, it turned up in a completely different room of my house, on a different floor (I suspect feline assistance, which is fitting; we both adored cats). So now it was really magic! Christi wasn't in school that regularly, so I'd bring it just in case. There were a couple more incidents too, where it was lost or nearly lost and showed up again. 

After she died, I wanted to keep it safe, so I put it on a string--it was a bead, after all--and made it into a bracelet. My mom, realizing my knot was not secure, suggested putting it on a chain instead. When the plastic started to deteriorate, I stopped wearing it. A few years later, I took it to a jeweler, who put a metal tube inside the hole so the chain wouldn't cut into the plastic. Then I put it on a necklace instead, so it would be more protected than on my wrist. It's fragile so I still don't wear it every day, but I wear it some. 

I was wearing it on my way home from college for the summer. I got home and took it off and then it was just gone. I was sure I remembered where I left it, but it wasn't there. It wasn't anywhere. I was devastated. It was gone for years, and I had dreams where  found it and I woke up disappointed. 

One day I was on the other side of my room from where I'd last seen it, going through a box of Christi mementos. The Bead landed on the carpet. I don't know where it fell from. This was in September, too, not long before the anniversary of her death. I let out a shriek. So the Bead returned to me again! I still only wear it occasionally but I keep it very carefully. 

I also have a necklace that says Chatty Cathy, the name of our friend group, that another friend's mom had made for all of us (I think Christi was buried with one). I wore that every day for a while, and then every Friday (Christi's day at our school and Chatty Cathy meeting day; we were a "club" that was allowed to do whatever we wanted and roam unsupervised because cancer perks are very real), and then occasionally, but they were very cheaply made and after having the chain fixed many times I decided I needed to buy one that wouldn't break and risk losing the charm and I haven't done that yet, so I just have that one carefully put away for now. I had a near miss with losing that too when the chain broke while I was going through security to tour UK parliament and I had a breakdown because I thought the charm was lost and security was really nice to me, even pulling up a grate to see if it fell in (it turned out to be in my hair. embarrassing.). I'm American so I was kind of expecting guns in my face. 

Remind me to post a picture of the Bead later! I actually have a replica of how it originally looked (another leftover keychain kit) that I want to make into a piece of jewelry eventually. 

#sorry this is one of those normal questions that turns into a dead best friend story with me

[jstarswrites]

Game Plan

Chapter nine is here, and this is probably one of my favourite chapters, some really cute Eddie x Reader moments in this one! I hope you enjoy!

The group headed to Max’s trailer, since Eddie’s was still technically a crime scene and no one liked being that close to a gate. You held onto Eddie’s hand tightly as you crept across the dark trailer park, needing to feel him after your ordeal with Vecna. You knew that you hadn’t been cursed like Max; no nosebleeds, headaches, or trouble sleeping. But that didn’t mean seeing him, and being forced into whatever hell he’d thought up for you hadn’t affected you.

Hearing Dustin scream… That had almost broken you. You’re the big sister. It’s your job to protect him, no matter what. And hearing him scream like that, you’d thought you’d failed. Failed your little brother. Dustin. The kindest, sweetest, funniest kid. And that, that you could not take. But hearing Eddie scream had hit a different part of you. A part you hadn’t known existed until now. That scream had gone directly to your heart and ripped it in two. Completely shredded it. Because the idea of Eddie being hurt, of him being gone, that would destroy you.

Hearing his voice… you hadn’t been lying when you said he’d saved you. His voice had brought you back, a tether for you to hold on to in a world where reality shifted around like a damn slinky. In a world where left was right and up was down, Eddie was your constant. The one thing you could count on. And he’d called you back. Had begged for you to come back to him. And because you couldn’t stand to see him hurt, you had. You’d followed his voice all the way back to him. 

Inside Max’s trailer, you took charge, despite still feeling a little shaky. You herded the others into sitting down and passed around coke’s to everyone who had been in the upside down. You all needed a good dose of sugar for the shock. Steve and Nancy especially. Okay, and you, too. Once you’d all sat down and finished your drinks and rested for a bit, you had Robin and Max look for food. Robin, bless her, made a pot of coffee for everyone, though you and Nancy had the foresight to forbid the kids from drinking it. Dustin especially did not need any more energy.

‘Max, do you have a first aid kit?’ You asked her, searching the bathroom for supplies. 

‘Um, maybe?’ She called from the kitchen.

‘I’ve got it,’ Lucas said, joining you in the bathroom. He held a duffle bag in his hands that you recognised. 

‘You remembered the grab bag?’ You asked, surprised.

‘Yeah, one of us used their brains this time,’ he said, grinning at you.

‘Attaboy, Champ,’ you said, taking the bag from him and smiling gratefully. 

You rummaged around inside, handing out torches to everyone and snacks to eat while they waited for Robin and Max to cook the mac and cheese they’d found. You pulled out the first aid kit you’d stashed in all the grab bags and grabbed Steve’s arm. You hauled him down to Max’s mom’s room, Nancy and Eddie following curiously when you called to them. You’d taken a first aid course freshman year, and took it again whenever the opportunity came up. Considering the many near death encounters you’d all had in the last three years, you figured it was a good idea. 

‘Uh, y/n? Whatcha doing?’ Steve asked as you made him sit down on the bed.

‘Sewing you up, dummy,’ you said, rolling your eyes. You opened the first aid kit, taking out the stuff you needed. You retreated to the bathroom to fill a bowl with warm water before coming back. ‘Sit still, okay? These need cleaning and then I think at least one is gonna need stitches.’

‘Stiches?’ Steve went pale.

‘Yeah, sorry,’ you said, organising your supplies. ‘Nancy, hold Steve’s hand please.’

‘Uh, why?’ She asked, though she did as you ordered.

‘Yeah, I’ll be fine,’ Steve protested.

‘It’s not for you. It’s for her. She’s still shaky,’ you explained as Eddie helped you sort through what you needed. ‘And I don’t want her passing out with none of us noticing, because we’re focused on Steve. So, you two watch each other.’

‘You’re still shaky,’ Nancy pointed out. 

You nodded. ‘That’s what Eddie’s here for.’

‘I got you, sweetheart,’ he confirmed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You snapped on a pair of gloves so as not to risk cross contamination and then you gently pulled the bandage off Steve’s torso. The wounds weren’t awful, but they weren’t great either. You set to cleaning them, being as gentle as you could, conscious of the tense way Steve was holding himself and the way he winced whenever you touched him. Once you were satisfied the wounds were clean, you moved on to the stitches. You cleaned the needle and then pulled the thread through. 

‘Brace yourself, this is gonna sting,’ you told Steve.

He nodded. ‘Just be quick.’

‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ you assured him. Your hand was a little shaky, but you took a deep, calming breath and got to work. 

Eddie stayed by your side the whole time, passing you anything you asked for and cheering you on. It amazed him how good you were at this stuff. He knew you were already pretty damn special, but the last few days had been one thing after another and now he was pretty certain you were, in fact, amazing. 

‘How do you know how to do this stuff?’ He asked, passing you the antiseptic as you finished sewing up a bite.

‘I took a first aid class freshman year,’ you told him, wiping the wound and then taking the gauze he handed you. You taped it down and then cleaned and re-threaded your needle. ‘I take it again whenever I can, so my skills don’t get rusty.’

‘Smart,’ Nancy said, nodding at you.

‘Yeah, around these kids you can never be too careful,’ Steve put in. 

You laughed. ‘Yeah, well, Dustin was always getting scrapes and cuts as a kid. He’s never known how to sit still. And then, after Will went missing and everything that happened, I figured it was a good idea to be prepared. And then, of course, Max came along and she skateboards.’

‘Adding to the need to know this,’ Nancy nodded, watching as you stitched up the last wound. 

‘Why do you think I call her Trouble?’ You smiled. ‘Spent most of last year fixing up her scrapes. It’s why I made sure there was a grab bag at everyone’s houses and in each of our cars.’

‘Organised, smart, and beautiful,’ Eddie said, grinning at you. 

‘Can’t be too careful in Hawkins,’ you said, finishing up. You wrapped a fresh bandage around Steve’s torso. ‘Those stitches will dissolve on their own. But keep them clean and change the gauze and bandages every day.’ 

‘Got it,’ Steve nodded.

‘And if you think something is wrong, come to me and we’ll figure out a way to explain it to the doctor,’ you told him.

You headed back into the sitting room to find Robin and Max handing out bowls of mac and cheese while Dustin and Erica set the table and Lucas dished up each serving. 

‘That’s actually kind of sweet,’ Nancy said beside you.

‘Very sweet,’ you nodded.

Over food, you discussed what you and Nancy had seen when Vecna had a hold of you. Nancy’s account had you all worried, and you knew it was time for the game plan. When it was your turn and you told them about hearing Dustin and then Eddie scream, Eddie wrapped an arm around you in comfort. 

‘Hang on a second,’ Dustin said. ‘You punched Vecna?’ 

Everyone was staring at you, except Eddie, who grinned and kissed you soundly, and Max, who leaned over to give you a high five. ‘Uh, yeah, I did. I mean, I thought he’d hurt you and Eddie, plus he cursed Max.’

‘Balls of steel, y/n,’ Steve said, nodding at you. 

‘Y/N is real punchy,’ Robin laughed. ‘Always has been.’

‘Yeah, remember that kid you beat up in freshman year?’ Nancy put in. 

‘Uh, what?’ Eddie asked, grinning at you. 

‘He was being mean to Robin,’ you explained, shrugging.

‘It’s how we became friends,’ Robin said, high fiving you.

‘Nice,’ Eddie said slowly, his brown eyes sparkling. 

‘I just can’t believe you punched the dark wizard,’ Lucas said, shaking his head.

That set you all off, giggling and laughing, and giving you all a much needed break from the doom and gloom of the situation. 

‘So, if we’re gonna get Vecna,’ Nancy said, once you’d all calmed down. ‘We have to do it somewhere we control.’

‘And we have to do that in the upside down,’ Robin added.

‘So, one team for killing Vecna,’ you said. ‘One to lure him to the Creel house so he’s easy to find in the upside down. And then one for distraction so the upside down team can get to the Creel house.’ 

You talked over the plan, working out the kinks and who was going where. You didn’t like the idea of using Max to lure in Vecna, but she was right. She was Vecna’s last victim. It made sense to use her. You still weren’t happy about it, though. You, Eddie and Dustin were team distraction, which you thought you could handle quite nicely, while Nancy, who was the best shot, Steve and Robin handled Vecna. With the plan worked out, you just needed weapons. And that was where Eddie stepped in. You watched him proudly as he organised a way to get to the army surplus store and a ride to get there.

You all packed up your stuff, ready to move out. Max handed her mask over to Eddie, and you couldn’t help it. You giggled. You tried to contain them, but then you caught Robin’s eye, and it was too late. The others turned to see what you were looking at, and once they caught on, they all laughed too. Eddie took the mask, still laughing, and then took your hand, entwining your fingers with his.

‘Ready for this, sweetheart?’ He asked you.

‘Born ready,’ you replied, smiling up at him.

‘That’s my girl,’ he said, leaning down to kiss you sweetly.

Running after Eddie in the trailer park while he wore a Michael Myers mask was the funniest shit you’d ever seen. It didn’t take him long to hot wire the RV, and he gave you a wink as you watched him, because strangely, it was the hottest thing you’d seen. You didn’t know how he’d hidden that he was so good with his hands. Steve was driving because no one trusted Eddie to drive and you had all collectively banned Max and Dustin. Which was probably the smartest thing you had ever done, let’s be honest.

You curled up with Eddie on one of the couches, your legs across his lap, his large hand on your thigh. You were talking to Max and Erica about what you’d need from the surplus store, writing them a list of must haves and trusting that Nancy and Steve would make sure everyone at least had one weapon each. But you were concerned with everyone surviving, so you made sure that they all grabbed vests and body armour of any kind. It didn’t hurt to be careful.

Max and Lucas stayed behind; Max because she needed to be listening to music, and Lucas be he would be instantly recognised if any of the basketball players were around. Eddie obviously couldn’t go in, so you stayed with him, trusting Nancy and Erica to get the things you needed, while Dustin and Robin were let loose in the store. You didn’t trust Dustin at all to bring back anything you needed. You knew him. He’d be looking for the cool shit, not the things that would keep you alive.

Eddie pulled you onto his lap once they were gone and kissed you soundly. It was long, and slow, and sweet. When you pulled apart, you met those beautiful brown eyes of his, knowing you wouldn’t get many more opportunities before it was time to gear up and walk into hell. At least you would be together. And you would have Dustin with you, too. 

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Eddie said quietly, playing with your hands. 

‘Oh? What about?’

‘Graduation,’ he said. ‘I’m crawling my way to a D- in Miss O’Donnell’s class. I’m graduating this year. With you.’

You smiled, kissing him softly. ‘Yeah, we are. We were planning on having a party at Steve’s place. Me, Jonathon, Nancy, and Robin are all graduating this year. And now you, too.’ 

‘Is that an invitation?’ Eddie grinned.

‘Duh,’ you said, rolling your eyes. ‘Where I go, you go.’

‘And where I go, you go,’ he smiled, pressing a kiss to your fingertips.

‘Exactly.’

‘So once we graduate… well, what are your plans?’ Eddie asked nervously. He didn’t want to assume anything. You’d said you were all in, but you were graduating in a few months. You might have college lined up already, you might be moving across the country. And he’d follow you in a heartbeat, if that was what you wanted. But he wasn’t going to college. He’d be lucky to graduate at all. Despite his confidence when telling you he was going to graduate, he wasn’t feeling that confidence at all. 

You shrugged. ‘I applied to the community college.’

‘Not planning on an Ivy league school?’ He questioned, brow furrowed. You were smart enough to get in, he knew that.

You shrugged again. ‘That’s for Squish, not me.’ You shook your head. ‘The only thing I like the sound of, is, well…’ You trailed off, uncertain.

‘What? You can tell me anything, sweetheart,’ Eddie reassured you, reaching up to run his thumb across your cheek gently. 

You sighed. ‘I like the sound of nursing school. Medical school is probably too much and I don’t wanna spend the next ten years at school. But maybe… an ER nurse?’ 

Eddie nodded, smiling at you. ‘I think you’d be great at that, sweetheart. I mean, you’d be great at anything you choose to do. But you’re organised, steady in a crisis, and good with kids.’

‘Flatterer,’ you smiled, kissing him softly.

‘I’m being serious.’ 

‘Thank you, Eddie,’ you said, kissing him again. You hadn’t told anyone but Dustin of your plans for after graduation. You hadn’t been sure you’d get in to nursing school. You knew you were smart enough and strong enough to cope with anything they threw at you, but your anxiety got the best of you at times and buried that confidence under a mountain of fears. But now you had Eddie to reassure you. 

‘Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to go?’ He asked, seeming nervous once more. 

‘Why? Do you have plans for after graduation?’ You questioned, wondering what was on his mind. 

He shook his head, letting out a bitter chuckle that broke your heart. ‘Nah, sweetheart. This is like, my third try? So no one’s gonna take me.’

‘Do you want to apply anywhere?’

‘Not really.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not really my thing, you know?’

‘Sure,’ you nodded. ‘So what do you want to do?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, looking down at your hands, playing with your fingers gently. ‘I thought maybe… the band could do something? You know?’

‘Are the others up for that?’

‘Sure,’ he nodded. ‘Corroded Coffin on the road.’

‘I like the sound of a road trip,’ you smiled.

Eddie’s head snapped up. ‘You’d come with me?’ He asked, totally surprised.

‘Of course I would,’ you told him. ‘Where you go, I go, remember?’

‘You’d really do that?’

‘Eddie, I told you I was all in.’ 

He nodded. ‘But what about nursing school?’

‘Eddie, I can do that pretty much anywhere,’ you pointed out.

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ you said, nodding your head firmly. ‘Baby, did you really think I’d just wave you off and stay here without you?’

Eddie met your eyes, wondering how he got so lucky. ‘I just… no one’s ever wanted to be with me like that. To be all in, ride or die.’

‘Well, I am. And I will be till the day I die, Eddie Munson,’ you promised. ‘When I said all in, I meant it.’

‘You’d really come with me, and the band, on a road trip?’ Eddie asked, staring at you in wonder.

‘Yes,’ you said firmly, kissing him for extra emphasis. ‘We’ll tour. You guys will play clubs, and we’ll go from city to city. Who knows where we’ll end up?’

‘LA maybe?’

‘They have good nursing schools there,’ you smiled.

‘Yeah?’

‘And I’ve never seen the ocean,’ you confessed. 

‘Me either,’ he said. ‘We could go together.’

‘Eddie?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I really, really, like the sound of that.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes,’ you told him, and kissed him again.

Eddie fiddled with his hands for a long moment. Did he risk it? He knew you’d said you were all in, and he believed that now. But you hadn’t said you loved him. And he wasn’t expecting you to. He knew he loved you. He hadn’t been lying when he said it was love at first sight. But he didn’t know how you felt, other than that you wanted a proper relationship with him, and you’d follow him to LA. If he did what he wanted to do right now, would it be too much too fast? He didn’t want to risk pushing you away. But he also knew you liked it when he said what he wanted.

‘What is it Eddie?’ You asked, biting your lip in worry.

Eddie slid one of his rings off his fingers. He took your hand and slid the ring on the ring finger of your right hand. ‘It… It might seem cheesy, and maybe this is too fast, but I wanted you to know I believed you. That I believed in us. So, I wanted you to have this. Think of it like a promise ring? You and me, y/n, to the end.’

You stared at the ring for a moment. It was the silver band shaped to look like a skull. It was a little big, but you had a necklace you could put it on if it slipped off too much. And then you pulled his face towards yours and kissed him. You poured all your love into the kiss, telling him with actions what you weren’t quite ready yet to say with words. Eddie kissed you back, a hand going into your hair and the other pulling you tightly against him.

When you finally came up for air, both of you were breathing hard. You kissed him softly, once, twice, three times for luck. ‘Eddie,’ you said softly. His eyes met yours. ‘You and me, to the end.’

‘You’ll wear it?’ He asked, wonder creeping across his handsome face.

You smiled brightly, and he swore it was like seeing the sun for the first time. ‘Yes, I’ll wear it. It might be a bit big, but if it is, I’ll put it on a necklace.’

Eddie’s answering smile took your breath away.

Taglist: @efvyqrs @gnnnne @smc777 @okilover02 @itsjenna2u @linkpk88

#edddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

[thatfanfictionchick]

Mom Friend™️

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

Mother's Day for Ruggie! feat. Val[OC], Leona, and Jack

Rating: E for Everyone

Warnings: None

Word Count: 921

Notes: Did I take my own idea, run with it, and schedule it for Mother's Day? Maybe, you can't prove anything.

╚═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╝

Ruggie heaved a sigh as he paused in the middle of the bridge spanning Savanaclaw. Usually Sundays were for sleeping in, but with the interscholastic Spelldrive tournament coming up every day meant rigorous practice. He was up before the sun, cleaning up the dorm commons areas before going to Leona’s room and stirring the ever ungrateful lion. He’d dragged Leona out of bed and forced him to the couch, lecturing his senior on how important practice was while brushing and braiding the thick dark hair before twisting it into a high ponytail. Then it was a dash to the kitchen to get breakfast made. On the way back to Leona’s room he crossed Jack, who had popped a seam on his jersey. Ruggie told him to hang tight and, leaving Leona with the lingering threat of dousing him with cold water if he fell back asleep as he hastily dropped the tray of food on the table, hurried back to his own room to retrieve his sewing kit. Jack’s shirt expertly repaired, he dashed back across the dorm to change his clothes, stopping for a moment on the bridge to critically eye a splintered board. He sighed, thinking about how he’d have to arrange for it to be replaced, when a ruckus from behind caught his attention.

“Ruggieee!” It was Val, darting down the hall and leaping onto the bridge, making it bounce as she positively sprinted towards him. He grunted, grabbing the rope to keep his balance. She’d caught him off guard with the jump. Her arms were bursting with various packages and bags and before he could ask what was up she’d stopped, slightly out of breath. Her wide eyes glittered in the early morning light. “Happy Mother’s Day, G!”

“Happy…what?!” His brow furrowed and his ears flicked back in confusion, but Val was already shoving things into his hands and he squawked in surprise. She was talking a mile a minute and he could barely keep up.

“Trey made the donuts, Cater got the dried salted plums, the apples are from Epel, Ace and Deuce picked out the shirt and pants, yes they fought about it, the gift receipt is in the pocket if they don’t fit -“

“Oh, is that today?” Jack’s head poked out of his room and Val huffed in his direction, whining ‘Jack!’ in an exasperated tone. Jack shrugged and disappeared, reappearing a moment later and tossing something across the open area. Val snagged it, as she now had one free hand, and glanced at it approvingly before shoving it too on Ruggie’s pile. It was a small hyena pendant carved out of a dark marbled stone, threaded on several looping strands of leather.

“What’s all the noise for?” Leona came swaggering down the other side of the bridge, yawning widely. Val bristled in his direction, glaring and hissing a low ‘Leonaaa…” Leona looked from her to Ruggie, who was still swimming in confusion, and flicked his arm offhandedly. “Oh, that, huh.”

That’s when Ruggie noticed Leona was tossing a fist sized velvet sack in his hand. With the air of someone offloading an unwanted gift, Leona dropped the sack on top of the other packages. “Here,” Leona said with all his usual lazy disinterest. “I got too many shiny little trinkets cluttering up my desk.”

Ruggie’s tongue felt too big. From the sudden weight of the sack he knew they weren’t just ‘little trinkets’. What Leona had given him would probably be sold on the next trip home for enough to keep his grandma and the neighborhood kids well fed for half a year. Before he could utter out a thank you Leona was ruffling his hair and pinching his ear for good measure. “Also told Sam that whatever you got for the next week was on me.”

Ruggie made a sound like he’d been punched and Val laughed. “Well, that’s hard to beat!” she said, shoving several more brightly wrapped boxes into his full arms. “There’s cards attached to everything, you’ll figure out what’s from who.” There was only one thing left in her hands: a crown woven from white and yellow flowers of various sizes with shapely green leaves. Ruggie looked from her to Jack, who was leaning in his doorway, to Leona, and back to Val.

“I’m…I don’t understand.”

“Well seeing as how you’re just about single-handedly responsible for keeping like, at least 40% of the school population alive and well, we thought we should show you our appreciation.” Val, reached out, carefully maneuvering the flower crown around his ears and letting it rest on his head. “Let’s face it, you’re the closest thing to a parent this school has on hand.”

“I don’t see it, personally.” Leona added with a smirk.

“That’s a nice ponytail there Leona, do that yourself?” Val teased. Leona growled and she shrugged, lifting her hands and looking around innocently.

“Hurry up and go get changed,” Leona said suddenly to Ruggie. “You wanna be practicing in the middle of the day? Move it.”

Ruggie bustled off, barely managing to open the bedroom door and trying his best to gently deposit the pile on his bed. He looked down at the glittering hoard before catching sight of his reflection in the mirror. He slowly lifted the crown off his head, taking care not to crush any of the flowers. He didn’t want it to get ruined during practice.

“Mother’s Day,” he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. But the smile on his face was radiant. “How ridiculous.” 

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fluff #twst ruggie #twst leona #twst jack #twst oc #val #nonsensiqueue #happy mother's day #mom friend ruggie deserves all the love

[itskyliedarkplaz]

Sword bounded

Chapter: 1

Prologue

I seriously have the worst luck, don't I? Mom told me to clean the attic on the day off! Daman is lucky that he has his club thing that he needs to do. And that's not even the worst part! While I was cleaning the attic (it's a good thing our attic is not like the other creepy attics), some boxes almost fell on me!!! And now that room is even messier and I probably have a head injury! Why does this happen to me? I should be used to this, but I still get surprised.

"Aria!! Are you alright?! I heard a loud crash" [Aiyana's mother said coming hurriedly]

Mom helped me get up from the floor, and I got up but something sharp fell on my ankle. My mom sighed looking at me, "You should be more careful!"

"I was being careful Mumma!"

"Ok, ok, let's see if you are hurt anywhere"

"So mom, are you going to tell me about the new book you were going to publish?" I asked my mom as she took out the first aid kit.

"It's not a new book but a story I wrote during my time in high school, it's honestly really bad." Mom said as put the medicine tube and bandage down on the table and started to apply it on the injury in my arm, "I don't know why I even wrote it. I mean I even created a side story!"

"Well, then why are you even posting it?"

"That's because I want people to know that not everything starts off as perfect. I want to show people that people don't just start off with a masterpiece. Our talents are like seeds, we need to thoroughly water them to let them grow, if we let them go at one point, they might wilt."

"Yeah, but why do they need that anyways? Yeah but don't people know that they need to work hard so they can be successful in life?"

"That is true, but people sometimes lose confidence after some people become successful they feel like it's 'just a waste of time' or 'the other's work is much better than mine I should probably give up' stuff like that makes people insecure. We can do nothing but this is the least I can do"

"Wow... That's surprisingly nice"

"Ohh, you don't think I am nice?"

"Hmm, maybe? But when are you going to publish it in your website?"

"Why are you asking? Do you want to read it?"

"Well, yeah. You know that I love reading your books!"

Mom chuckled after hearing me say that and patted my head. She got up and said "Alright but don't tell anyone about this, even friends. I have it on my laptop, let me just get it."

"Okayyy"

After my mom left I punched my hand in the air and did a little happy dance. I love reading my mom's books, she is a world wide known writer, with her most famous story 'The little Star' series.

Hmm, I shouldn't just idly sit here, I guess I can fix some.

Many people think I would be a writer (donno why they think that) but I am more into art and craft, embroidery, origami, painting sketching, calligraphy, sewing, knitting, and much more!

My brother is the smarter one, I am not good at studies and never have been, and even if I try I won't be able to compete with my brother. But that's fine! All of us have our ups and downs! I may be average in looks and studies but as long as I am good in art, I'll be satisfied with myself.

"Aiyana!" I heard someone call my name

"Oh, hello Mausa! Do you need something?" I replied

My family moved foreign when I was six, coincidently the rest of our family lives here too, so we all live in a big house together, though some came quite..... bothersome.

"Where is your brother?" asked my other mausa, Surandra

"Oh, he's at school, it was supposed to be a holid-"

"Then why aren't you going to school? Oh my, Did you lie to your mother?"

"...No, like I was saying before, it was supposed to be a holiday today but my brother needs to go since he has some club thing he needs to do."

"Oh, is that so. Hmm, alright"

"Do you guys need anything else?"

"No, you can go"

"Okay, bye"

My family owns a rather big house due to my mom's famous carrier, while there is only my mom, brother, and grandma and my my aunty and her daughter, so it has just been us. But from time to time our relatives come and visit us. I don't really care about them but I know they don't like me because I look more like my so-called father whom I have never heard from before. I have only met him a few times but they weren't rather good. I don't really get how me, looking like him make them dislike me, I mean I am me not him. Well, I can't do anything about that it's better if I don't want to waste my time on stuff like that, if they don't like me that's fine, it's their loss.

"I am back!!" My brother shouted as he came in.

"Yo! You look rather happy."

"Yo! Where is mom?"

"She should be in her office, so how was-" before I could finish, my brother rushed to my mom's office. I followed behind him, calling out to him.

"Hey! What happened?!" I asked him but I only got ignored in the end.

Daman went to my mom's office and said in an excited voice, "Mom! I won the national maths quiz, I came in as first!!!"

My mom got the brightest smile on my face i have ever seen before and rushed to hug my brother, "Oh my god! I am so proud of you Daman! You have made me so proud!!"

"Oh nice, Congrats dude" I went and did our signature handshake (don't tell Aisha we did that)

Our happy family was soon interrupted by some of our relatives(Were they seriously eavesdropping on us?) "Oh my! This calls for a celebration!!" one of my uncles said enthusiastically and gave my brother a pat on his back, "You have certainly proved you are the man of the house here!"

"It doesn't sound like a bad idea." My mom said "Oh and we can do it for Aiyana too, she got 3rd prize for her art competition too!"

Wait wa? But I got my results tomorrow, and it's not like it was a big deal either way. I only got a third prize which is incomparable to my brother's achievement, I mean he got first prize in MATHS QUIZ!! I only got the 3rd prize in arts. I wanted to argue with my mother but Mausa, Surandra. "Didi, no offense but shouldn't we just celebrate for Daman? Aiyana already got her prize yesterday, and Daman still hasn't received his prize yet plus he won a maths competition, I think it is better than any art competition"(for the last statement he gave me a stingy side eye).

"Yeah, Surendra is right Didi, c'mon I am sure Aiyana would understand" Mausa Suraj agreed, while giving me a nasty side eye.

"Well, if you don't like it you don't need to come." my mom said with a stern tone. She looked so cool while saying that.

"D-didi, I was only advising you na. Why are you getting so angry about it?"

"Hmm alright" My mom said before turning to my brother, "Why don't go and freshen up? Are you hungry?"

While my mom was talking to my brother, my mausa's quickly fled from the scene (did mom seem that scary to them?). "Y'know mom they are right. I only won 3rd prize, it's not even that special. Plus, it's Daman's day, not mine."

"Aiyana, you still won 3rd place right? There were so many participants but it was you who got 3rd. You shouldn't listen to what your mausa's says." My mom reassured me with her comforting words.

"They are probably jealous that you have better art skills than them" Daman joked

"Yeah, totally Bhaiya." I replied while chuckling at his joke. "If Bhaiya is fine with it, then so am I"

We looked at my brother for an answer he shrugged and said, "I am alright with it"

"Alright then, If you are fine with it then I am too." I said with a smile.

The party (well i guess it was just our family) went fine, everyone enjoyed themself. Neither me nor my brother really aren't interested in parties but we do bear with them from time to time. Oh and my mom gave me her book to read and it was... okay. While it has a good plot there are many plot holes in the story. Like the prince didn't like people who lack confidence or appear weak but when the heroine has a 'weak body' and self-esteem and she is basically given everything without much effort. It would be nice to see her struggle and do things on her own to get her own goals but nope, whenever she is in trouble, she just calls for her knight in shining armor or her prince charming (I don't know why I feel like she is a pick-me girl). The side character is way more interesting than the MC! I don't want to tell my mom about this, how bad this story may be my mom was the one who wrote and it may not make any sense but the world-building is excellent. And I loved the side character and the villainess! OMG, she is A~MA~ZING~!! Purple hair with red eyes! She sounds so beautiful! 'The butterfly of the society!! That sounds like such a cool name!!! I like the second male lead too! He is a magical knight with a magical sword, who is searching for his lost sister.

When I was reading the story my mom told me that she wrote some stuff about the side characters too! And there is even about the sister of the second male lead! Kylie Everette the long-lost sister of the second male lead. I think I forgot to mention that the crown prince (Male lead like always) and the second male lead are cousins, they fight to the death, with the ML(male lead) coming out as victorious. And the second male lead dying without ever finding where his dearest sister went. The FL is sad for him for literally two seconds and then go to her prince charming and congratulates him. Oh, and did I tell you about the two other male leads who died while protecting or curing the FL. It was kind of disappointing that the male leads died the way they did, they had sp much potential.

I was soon brought back to reality when I suddenly was distracted by the vibration I felt on my phone and then pick up to see that my mom had sent me a file with the title "Backstories of SC".

I immediately looked up and made eye contact with my mom she had a massive smile on her face. She looked at me and winked. I smiled and quickly opened it, I have got to read it!

After reading the Backstories of the side characters, I was really excited to talk to her. I quickly went to talk to my mom and we discussed about it but my mom got dragged away by the adults, I felt really tired and went to sleep. I woke up thirsty and went to the Kitchen to get a glass but while I was going to the kitchen i heard some noises coming from the dining room. It was our relatives and... grandma?!

I could hear them talking, the conversation went like this

"Today was amazing, wasn't it. Yes, I could be more proud of Daman" Suraj mausa said (I mean who wouldn't be he is so awesome)

"Yes, but I don't know why didi, insisted to make a party for her daughter! I mean, she isn't good at school nor good at art either, if she was she would have got first place" Said Surendra Mausa

"I don't even know why Didi keeps her with her, I mean she could have just left her at the orphanage" I heard my Mausa say, and then he started cackling

A third voice came up which took me by surprise "Well this is what we should expect of Roy's child, I mean he was basically a good for nothing fool who had no job. I guess she inherited it all from him"

The voice belonged to grandma?!!

I know that my other relatives dislike me but I didn't really expect it from grandma. Wow, that... really hurts. I guess i was to hurt by the new information that I have gotten that I didn't notice the vase near the shelf and bumped into it. The others heard it and i could hear them question about it inquiring if they should investigate the source of the sound, I quickly fled like a coward, I was scared I reached the staired and heard some call me, I flinched

"Aiyana, I knew it would be you." it was Surendra Mausa. "Of course it had to be be you, you are the trouble maker of this family."(I took a step back, he reeked of alcohol)

"What do- do you mean?" I managed to ask

"My sister was happy before you and that man came into this household" He stepped a bit closer ad put his hand on my shoulder "There is no need for you here, never come back" and with that, he pushed me.

Huh? I don't know why but I expected this. I guess this is how I die. I am sorry mom. I am sorry Daman. For leaving you guys so soon

Then everything turned black.

I opened my eyes but My body felt weak. I felt.... tiny?

Wait why can't I move my body?!

"That's my little sister?" I heard someone say.

"Yes young master"

Y-young master?! What's going on?!

#reincarnation #manwha #manga #female lead #fantasy #writing #flowers #sword bounded #Chapter 1 is out!!! AYYY #I will do my best to post chapter 2 as fast as I can #shitpost #fantasy shit #isekai

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Hey! A new wlw short story is up on my Patreon. Check it out! And please consider becoming a Patron for more wlw writing and more. As a struggling artist anything helps.

Here’s a free preview:

Headlights Girl

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the land, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they shrank away from my gaze deep into their cages into the nooks and crannies. Most things do.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness and sleep. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There have been stranger kids born in the age of spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for small articles and mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy with fire on his breath. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father calls it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He doesn’t look at me much. And I know what he means. I know what he means when he calls it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. They could barely afford to send me to That School. I didn’t want to be there either.

We weren’t the same, not really. None of us are the same age and most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons under flat mattresses. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or have a pig-nose or blackhole for a nose. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he runs away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I’m 16 when I heel-toe my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with a collection of loose clothes, change, a bath towel, sewing kit, a bible written in a language I don’t speak, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he’s at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at Target and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There’s a beer in front of his idle hands and he glances at the bag on my shoulder.

He sighs like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafs through a wad of cash he kept in a safe in the garage. He hands me almost three hundred bucks and we nod at each other. I’m out the door before the midnight bus arrives.

I watch the headlights of the bus approach through dense summer night and think it must be like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I get on the bus and kick my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, I cross my arms over my chest, and watch the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet move like tides. They toss me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I taste the painted deserts toward the west. I dip my toes into the largest cities with lights brighter than my own. I graze my palms on neon signs and hunch my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touches me. They don’t come close enough when I open my eyes and they see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that will smite them.

I find my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gather. I don’t talk much, I don’t like to, and people stare at me whether I’m speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it aches. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’ve never seen a movie in any theatres, but I can imagine what it’s like.

I like the ocean cities best with their pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding white paths, and crushed seashell parking lots. I like the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkles from the ocean water as it sun-dries. I camp out on beaches and bum cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I’m good at taking care of myself once I get in a rhythm.

Sometimes, or often, I dream of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dream of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I am weighted down through the cold to where no human has ever been before. I open my eyes there, I open them all the way, lightning-bright, and in my dreams, the salt doesn’t sting. It doesn’t hurt, instead, I light up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I do something good then. Maybe I do something good and bring the sun to places that have forgotten it.

I meet Mags on the beach. She’s got one eye and five teeth and carries around string and scissors everywhere. She smells like seawater and roasting kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes are neat despite her leather-cracked skin and her arms and neck are covered with tattoos of shipwrecks. She cackles and pulls me aside the first night we meet.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is old creaking wood. I am quiet. “I could give you one.” She offers with a grin that is more empty space than anything.

I shake my head. “Nana.”

“What do you like, kid?”

I shake my head again.

Mags likes me more than I deserve. I pocket her last pair of socks when she’s not looking. She never mentions it and drags me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She takes me to the soup restaurant for something that isn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackles, she spits when she talks, people glare at her as well.

I think she’s normal, not touched by the spirits, but she likes me more than most people and I don’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snort. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snap.

“Lippy-wild thing. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heats the needle before she uses it, red hot and untouchable. She dips it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she calls them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin with color and movement. She shows me on her right foot first, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It takes her six hours to make a little shipwreck right above her big toe. It’s a schooner going under and I’m the only witness to the way she makes the waves come to life and crash against its sides. I can’t look away and I forget to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washes another needle. She heats it red-hot. She dips it in ink and hands it to me.

I practice all over my thighs first, there’s enough meat there and it’s easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looks like nothing but squiggles, a wobbly stick figure on a skateboard, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practice designs in the sand. Mags takes me to the museum on Sundays. They’re free on Sundays.

Something stirs in my chest, even as the guards yell at me about how flash photography isn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I’m shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rots roars to life in my chest.

I stab in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake next, and then finally, something good, something that gives people a reason to stare. I make it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than the others.

I don’t want to leave the ocean city. Mags says she has to keep moving though. She gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackles. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winks as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I want to make her pinky-promise like I’m a kid again and begging one of the other kids to tell me if I’m actually beautiful when I close my eyes. I can’t do that; I wave as she totters up the steps of the bus and is taken away with the tides of her own feet. ------------ I get an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked to them first and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but coach surfing and camping out on beaches is a tiring pastime. Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie run a tattoo shop together. Davies walks like he’s never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie has a throw-pillow that says “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies is nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie has topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’s been asked to leave a number of stores before the children start staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me, it’s not that type of town. I rankle at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. I brush off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie calls me “Shadow” and I think it’s a joke. Davies says I must be possessed by the ghost of a dead star and now I’m nothing but a blackhole: take everything in and let nothing out.

Neither of them lets me touch a needle in those first six months. They have me practice on pig skin and stand by their shoulder as they work. I feel like a dental assistant except I’m the hanging light above shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stand at their shoulder as they draw thick lines and thin dots and make hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They ask me to stop blinking and stand still. I almost walk out and find a new cliff to crash against, almost. No one had ever expected me to show up to something before. No one cared if I went to school or when I got home. And no one kept any tabs on me after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, it didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow.” She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I am eloquent in the morning.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want the desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

I grumble. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before. I tell myself I’ll just try it out, no harm in having a bit of a savings anyway. No harm in seeing what the fuss was about.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with my eyes. I don’t let up though. I put on pants for this, after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder now.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, he had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me now as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “The line’s barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” He chuckled darkly. His grin is crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.

“Look at you go. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun before the new year. I tell myself I’ll only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I don’t have to actually stay. I’ll just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chases after girls with eyes that glow.

I don’t break my lease. I draw cartoon heroes in speedos on tipsy college girls who swear they’re sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I have to give two refunds for a duck that turns out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with nothing but doors ahead of her. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I’m best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It’s dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hide my smile when she goes to my bosses and points at it while jumping up and down. The best thing she’s ever seen. She should pay us double. Where did you get this girl? I try not to blink so they can’t see the wetness under my eyes.

Sometimes I still stand by the bus stop to check who’s coming off. I don’t expect to see Mags again so soon, but sometimes I want to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

🌸Check out my Patreon for the full story! 🌸

#wlw #urban fantasy #writing #found family #sapphic #short story #femslash #writers on tumblr #writeblr #magical realism #patreon #my work #long post #long post cw

[softomi]

butterflies

prompt: I read in a book once that blue butterflies symbolize many things but I think my favorite was that they are wish-granters. So if you see a blue butterfly, make a wish.

pairing: atsumu x reader

word count: 3.3k

general taglist: @graykageyama

Between the twins, Osamu was always your favorite and it was clear that Osamu preferred you over his brother. Atsumu was the bane of your existence ever since they moved across the street from you. Seven years old, the parents happily introducing themselves, the children staring at each other awkwardly. One held a volleyball, the other staring at you. They were supposed to be your new friends, though all of you were seven, technically you were older. You were a grade above them having just made the cutoff to enter school early, that didn’t stop Atsumu from addressing you as though you were younger than him.

“Ow.” You fell onto your butt, Atsumu had harshly pushed you, “Tsumu.” You began to whimper, tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

He didn’t mean to push you so hard, he just didn’t like that your cooties were going to stain him. There’s a pretty blue butterfly pin in your pigtail braid and when he reaches out, your cries lessen. Your eyes widening, perhaps he was going to help you up. His fingers tug on one of your braids, a little too harshly that the butterfly pin falls out. You begin to wail more at how hurtful he was being.

“Tsumu!” Osamu rips Atsumu’s hand away, shoving the boy to stand between you and his brother. Osamu has dirt on his face from playing far away, he had left momentarily to dig through the ground but as soon as he heard your cries, he came running, “Don’t be mean!”

Atsumu doesn’t know what he did wrong, was it so bad that he was interested in your braids, “She’s the one being a cry baby.” He sticks his tongue out, scowling at you for ruining his fun.

The twins parents have emerged from the home, their mother helping you up and dusting off the dirt from your dress. Osamu lunges at Atsumu, they’re pulling each other’s hair, Atsumu is shoving his brother’s face with his palm, Osamu’s knee is pressing against his brother’s chest. Their father lifts Osamu off Atsumu, scolding the boys loudly for starting a fight.

“Apologize!” Atsumu’s head is forced in a bow by his father.

Atsumu’s fingers are clenched in a fist, “I’m sorry.” He’s gritting through his teeth. He has a scar on his cheek from his brother and he watches with a heavy glare at the way Osamu has his hand in yours, leading you into the home with their mom.

Atsumu plays by himself outside, his father watching him throw around the volleyball for an hour. He catches the ball and holds it still when he hears the door of the home opening. For a second he turns thinking Osamu has decided to come out and play but he scowls when you’re walking to him with your pretty blue polka dot dress.

“I brought you a cookie.” You have a plate in your hands, chocolate chip cookies looking freshly made. He reaches but his hand knocks the plate out of your hands, the cookies sadly falling onto the floor.

“Miya Atsumu!” His father’s stern voice sends a chill down his spine. Before he knows it, he’s being dragged into the home by the back of his shirt.

Atsumu thinks, it’s your fault he’s always getting in trouble.

After Osamu walks you home, Atsumu is allowed to come out of his room. He’s back outside and when he walks through the grass, something shiny attracts his attention. His fingers reach out, gripping the butterfly pin he remembers in your hair. He stuffs the pin in his pocket, running to throw around the volleyball with his brother.

As time went on, Atsumu, Osamu, and you fell into a respective trio dynamic. You were close-knit with Osamu, sharing similar interests in movies, games, and books. With Atsumu, you bickered and spat with him over every little thing; he stopped pulling your hair but that only egged him to think of other modes of torture. Osamu was always there to beat his brother up for you, someone’s got to knock him down a peg and that’s exactly what Osamu did.

By the time the twins entered junior high, Atsumu was beginning to notice he was the third wheel and the only way you’d ever look his way was when he tormented you. He’d spill his drinks on you, eat your food, purposely poke your sides to make you jump, scare you from around the corner, and even just plainly verbally hurt you.

“Did you gain weight?” Atsumu poked your stomach. You slap his hand away, trying to ignore him until Osamu arrived. You should have known better than to walk with Atsumu. He slings an arm around your shoulders, “Did you look in the mirror today when you got ready?”

His cackle is blow to your heart, you jab an elbow into his side, your palm wiping away a stray tear.

“Are you crying?” As much as Atsumu doesn’t want to laugh, because he doesn’t, he feels guilty, horrible even, but his automatic reaction is to chuckle, “Hey, I’m“ His apology is cut off when a fist forces him to step back.

Osamu blows on his fist, he looks at his brother with a grin, “Call it twin telepathy, I just knew you were being mean.”

Not much changed in high school, him a mere second year and you a third year. The only change he can think of is the fact that now you had a whole team to back you up. Kita was rather sharp in detecting Atsumu being a little prick to you, Suna took pride in tripping the blonde if he as much tried to approach you, the other’s seem to take more of an approach of just being near you. After all, you being their volleyball club manager was more important than Atsumu.

“Hey.” Atsumu’s voice stops you dead in your tracks before you can even step foot into the gymnasium to start setting up, “What’s with that on your face?”

Your hand instinctively flies to your cheeks, “What?”

His hand wildly gestures to his own face, “You trying to impress someone? Make-up won’t do you any good.”

You didn’t think anyone would notice the thin layer of foundation you put on or the minimal line of eyeliner; even your eyeshadow was so sheer, you wondered how he even saw it. You give him a cold shoulder, “Go fall off a cliff Atsumu.”

He follows you into the gym, setting his bag down onto one of the benches. He makes his way behind you, his finger dipped into your skirt, pulling at the waistband, “Oi, you have a rip in your skirt.”

“What are you doing?!” Osamu drops his bag at the entrance of the gym, he’s running, tackling his brother to the ground.

“Get the fuck off me!” Atsumu is shoving his brother.

Osamu is digging his brother’s face into the floor, “You’re being a perv!”

“Fuck you!” Atsumu is on top of his brother now.

You could clear up the situation if they weren’t so engrossed in murdering each other. They continue to roll on the floor, taking turns shoving the other’s face into the ground. You use their distracted minds to pull your skirt around. He was telling the truth, it was barely noticeable but there was a tiny rip on the waistband, probably where he had been pulling.

Atsumu is biting the insides of his mouth, he had been scolded by Kita when Osamu explained what had happened, and even when you explained he had no ill intentions; Kita still lectured him on how it isn’t appropriate to touch a girl without her permission. Now he’s running laps around the gym with the rest of the team while you fiddle with the fabric of your skirt.

“Here.” You look up at him, Atsumu had disappeared for ten minutes and when he returned, he towered over you, in his hand a small sewing kit, “If you keep playing with it, you’ll end up ripping the entire skirt. No one wants to see that.”

Even when he’s being nice, he has to throw in a blow to your self-esteem.

“Thanks.” You say bitterly, “But I don’t know how to sew.” Your finger scratches against your head, “I know, I’m stupid.”

You’re not. Atsumu wants to say.

You shift uncomfortably when he suddenly takes a knee. He pulls the thread from the kit, looping it through the needle to make a small knot.

“Can I?” He’s asking permission to touch you and you merely nod.

Compared to his usual self, Atsumu’s touch is soft. You stare at how concentrated he is, stitching the ripped fabric so that it looks almost brand new. Though your uniform skirt was black, the thread he chose was vibrant red. He leans his head near your hip, he uses his teeth to sever the rest of the thread. His breath hot, you could barely feel it through the fabric of your shirt. Your cheeks tint with a blush when he briefly catches your gaze, he looks away quickly.

“What are you doing now?!” Osamu has returned from his long bathroom break; his hand pulls his brother back by the neck of his shirt.

“Samu!” You wave your hands around, “It’s alright, he was just helping me.” You point to the red thread of your skirt.

Atsumu has his hands up in mercy, Osamu eyes him, “I’m onto you.”

“What? Why?!”

Osamu throws a volleyball at his brother’s head, “Because! You’re an asshole!”

“We’re twins, so by default, you’re an asshole too.”

Atsumu starts to run, Osamu tackles him pretty quickly.

There’re girls piled at the door of Atsumu’s classroom, one by one they come in as though they’re presenting their sacrifices to the king himself. He has chocolates stacked to the ceiling, the teachers are already spreading news that they can’t yell at him since they are gifts and if he was forced to throw any away, the female student body would wreak havoc.

The second-year girls slink back when they spot you, a third year that has all the second-year boys turning heads. Some are boldly stopping you to present their own chocolates which you take sweetly. They sigh happily when you walk away.

“Please accept my confession!”

You enter as the class falls dead silent, you’ve come to the second year classroom to give your gifts to the volleyball boys but you’ve stumbled into what seems to be a public love confession to Atsumu. He leans back in his seat, balancing on the back two legs of the chair as he looks up to the girl. She’s shaking from anxiety with her chocolates out for him, the students begin to whisper the longer he takes to answer. You pity her because Atsumu is a complicated person, you just never know what he’s thinking or what he’ll do next.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t accept any more chocolates. Teacher says I have too much.” Atsumu settles himself onto the four legs of his chair, “You can try Osamu.”

Some of the students let out audible gasps at his comment. You watch her lower her head, brushing past your shoulder in a dejected fashion. The class goes back to bustling rather quickly. Suna sits straight up when he spots you at the door, he taps on Osamu’s desk, the male turning away from the window. Atsumu turns to look over his shoulder, his lips in a thin line when you walk towards the three.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” You have three bags in your hand, you settle one on Osamu’s desk, one falls into the hands of Suna and the last lingers between your fingers. Atsumu stares at it, he notices you have scribbled his name on the side.

The longer you stand without giving it to him, the more he gets irritated. His leg bounces rapidly, he notices the ugly boxes of chocolates squished between your arm and side; pathetic boxes given by pathetic guys. He could do better.

“I just came to drop these off.” Your voice is starting to fade as you notice the last bag still in your hand. You flip the bag around, Osamu and Suna stare at it, a weak glance to their setter, “I’ll see you guys later.”

Osamu got cookies and a gift card to the café he’s been dying to try out. Suna got cookies and a cute little fox plush. Atsumu got nothing but a blow to his pride. He’s sitting arms crossed, knee bouncing against his desk as he refuses to look at Osamu and Suna. Atsumu wonders what you had put in the bag for him.

He had thought long and hard about his gift, Atsumu wasn’t planning on getting you anything for Valentine’s day but the team insisted that it would be a good day to show their appreciation for their manager. When Atsumu asked Osamu what he had gotten for you, Osamu showed him the mug he bought that had a bunny on it. Apparently, the bunny changes color depending on the temperature of the drink. When Osamu asked what Atsumu had gotten, the male simply shrugged his shoulders but the butterfly pin in his pocket pokes at his skin.

The group chat with the team has signified that he’s the last one who hadn’t given his gift yet. He can’t seem to find the time to pull you aside and he can’t find the courage to waltz into your classroom looking for you.

Meet me after classes, near the garden shed.

You reread the text just to make sure that it was correct. A part of you thought maybe his text was a joke meant to leave you hanging outside in the cold but as you near, you can clearly see his tall figure. His back is to you, he’s kicking the snow on the ground, it’s freezing and you’re jogging slightly to reach him.

“Hey.”

He whips around at your voice. His nose is red, trying to hide himself in his scarf. His eyes fall to your hands, you still have the bag but you’re making sure that the side that has his name doesn’t show. His hands are dug into his pockets, he’s twirling the butterfly pin.

“Atsumu?” Your voice shakes him, your eyes wide and just waiting for him to say something, anything.

Snow begins to fall, you look up, your hand lifted to catch the snowflakes that melts immediately in your palm.

“I.” Atsumu can’t find his next words because as you look at him, his heart is pounding in his chest. His eyes are falling and he catches the faint red thread on your skirt; he was sure you had thrown the skirt out, he recalls you telling Osamu that you had ordered a new skirt, “I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” You lean in, “What?”

Atsumu’s clenching the butterfly pin. He’s remembering every moment he’s ever had with you, all the hair pulling, all the nasty words, all the dirty tricks, “I said I’m sorry.” His lips are chapped, cheeks turning red from the cold, or maybe from the way he feels his heartrate accelerating, “Okay?”

You’re confused, “Did something happen? Did you get into a fight with Osamu again?”

Osamu, Osamu, Osamu. Is that all the two of you will ever talk about? Is that the only topic of common ground that you had with him? Osamu this, Osamu that.

“No.” He presses his thumb on the hairpin, “Whatever.” He sighs, his hands are removed from his pockets, in his palm you stare at the pin, “Happy Valentine’s day loser.”

Your finger brushes against his skin and you stare with wonder at the butterfly pin you recall bawling to your parents for losing, “Where’d you find this?” You’re smiling, for the first time, you’re giving him a smile.

“It’s not really important where I found it.” It sat on his dresser for years, some days he forgot it was there, other days he stared at it when getting dressed.

You’re giggling with glee, you’re pushing the hairpin to pull back strands of your hair, it’s bright blue jewels contrast against the falling of snow. The pin rests above your ear, Atsumu stares in awe. A snowball smacks against his neck, it jolts Atsumu out of his trance and he’s alarmingly looking around.

“What are you doing?!” Osamu screams from a distance, Suna’s phone out had captured the accurate shot.

“Goddamit Samu!” Atsumu screams, the cold torturing his skin. Atsumu quickly forms a snowball, you scream when another snowball hits Atsumu’s side, it exploded and struck you as collateral.

Atsumu chucks the snowball at his brother, though he tried to run, Osamu was hit straight in the face. You let out a gasp in unison with Atsumu, Osamu is building another snowball and just as he’s about to throw, Atsumu grips you by the arms, putting you in front of him.

“Tsumu! No!” You screech.

His stomach jitters, you called him by his nickname. Osamu chucks the snowball and to protect your face, you turn in Atsumu’s hands, your fingers clinging to his jacket and you’re laughing. God, you’re laughing with him.

The snowball sends you forward, your cheek pressed against his chest, your laughter vibrates onto his skin. He’s burning, he’s hot, he’s sweating. He’s suddenly gulping, thirsty, aching to drink something. Another snowball is thrown, this time it hits him in the shoulder.

“Don’t use y/n as a shield, ya dickhead!” Osamu is approaching, this time he nears with a snowball in his hand.

You’re just realizing now that you’re exposed legs are freezing. You shiver into Atsumu briefly before pulling away from him. You escape from his grasp to skip over to Suna. You’re clinging to Suna’s arm, teeth chattering, and you watch through Suna’s phone as Osamu smacks the snowball into his brother’s face. Of course, this causes Atsumu to tackle Osamu; Suna stops the recording.

“I got like ten million videos of them rolling on the floor.”

Atsumu ruffles his hair, he’s looking in the mirror to make sure all the dirt and snow mixture is out. Osamu approaches next to him, running his hand under the water. They don’t meet gazes but as they stare into their own reflections, it was like they were looking right at each other.

“Don’t do it.” Osamu states. He’s pulled one of the paper towels, wiping his hands as he doesn’t break eye contact with his reflection, “Don’t go acting like you loved her this entire time. You treated her like shit and now suddenly you think you’re in love.”

Atsumu feels guilt build up in the pit of his stomach. Osamu leaves the bathroom, leaving Atsumu to grip onto the sink. The feeling of you pressed against his chest makes blue butterflies swirl in his abdomen. He shoves the feeling down, he tucks it into the back of his heart, he puts you on the back burner.

His cell rings, Suna’s text tells him that everyone has decided to head to the gym first. He takes the time to wipe his hands, throwing the paper towel into the trash, he spots a brown paper bag next to the door of the bathroom. His name is scribbled on the side in your handwriting.

Atsumu got cookies, a volleyball keychain with his name etched into it, and a card. He sits in the bathroom, card in between his fingers, streaks of tears down his cheek while he stuffs the cookies into his mouth.

Thank you for helping me that one day with my skirt. I was going to buy a new one but then cancelled the order since I’ll be graduating any way. I never did get to thank you so I’m doing it now.

The card continues with a different colored pen.

I love the butterfly hairpin, thank you for finding it. I hope that we can become friends.

Atsumu heavily breathes, you were so nice, for someone like him, you were incredibly nice. You were so nice his heart was clenching and somewhere in the world, blue butterflies are flapping their wings.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #hq scenarios #hq atsumu

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Emp-ire, “Deputy.”

Hope you are all having a good day, and I hope you enjoy the story :)

Sparks leapt into the air vanishing to blend in with the wide expanse of the night sky overhead. Spoons clattered and rattled against cans, as the small group of men sat under the stars eating their meager rations. Adam shifted feeling the weight of his new gun on the opposite hip from his old: McBride’s gun.

The Sheriff spooned another mouthful of ration under his mustache before grunting as if he had remembered something and reached behind him, pulling out a sheathed knife and tossing it over to Adam, “Believe that belongs to you.”

He caught it with one hand, and set the can he was eating from down beside his boot, pulling the knife from its sheath, only to see the familiar decorative glint. He felt his face flush a bit, and when he looked up at the sheriff, seeing the look on the man’s face he knew that he knew.

He opened his mouth to speak, “I am so sorry sheriff, I really had no idea what came over me, I-” The man’s booming laugh cut him off mid apology, “No need to apologize to me boy. That man was nothing better than a crawly little maggot in my book, and deserved a lot more than losing a knife.” He snorted and leaned back in his seat, “Why take it, though, you being such an upstanding citizen and all. Doesn’t seem to fit your profile.”

Adam, still a bit flushed, rubbed the back of his neck, “I…. well.”

That’s when Ramirez butted in, leaning over the fire and announcing in a very loud voice, “To impress a girl.”

Adam turned a sharp glare down on Ramirez who was grinnin fit to burst.

“A girl!” The sheriff exclaimed, “Now that is something, isn’t it. Why don’t you go ahead and tell us about this girl.”

Ramires rolled his eyes,”How about that time he dumped that girl, and decided to pine after her later.”

Adam glowered so hard at Ramirez he hoped he would explode, but when no spontaneous combustion occurred, he simply sighed and slouched down in his seat, “Look, not to get into too many details or seem sorry for myself, but I’m not exactly in a great mental headspace to…. To be dating right now. It isn’t fair to her, and I refuse to drag her into my mess, especially one she didn’t sign up for.”

Around the fire, he could see the other men rolling their eyes largely.

“If she’s any kind of woman, it wouldn’t matter..” One of them said, “A real woman’s always got your back, covers you blind spots, and she’s shooting when you reload. A real woman makes you a better man at the same time you make her a better woman…. Course that is assuming that you are any kind of man.’ Adam blew out through his cheeks long and drawn out, “Very poetic, deputy, but let's assume I’m not any kind of man…. At least not right now, and she doesn’t deserve that.” “And so what, did you hope to find your manhood out here with the roughians and the hooligans.” one of them asked motioning around at the planet behind him.

Adam sighed again, “Actually, no.” he motioned to Ramirez, “that one dragged me out here to cheer me up, but since we’ve been here, I’ve been threatened, had a horrible hangover, been kicked in the face, kidnapped, threatened, fallen off a horse, and been kicked in the face a second time.”

The group of men laughed, “Sounds like a good time!”

They laughed, and he laughed with them.

“Anyway, she likes weapons, loves them actually, any kind, so it made me think of her, and I thought that when I get back, maybe my apology would go better if I soften her up first.”

The men eyed each other, “Or give her a weapon to carve you up with in her rage.”

He snorted and smiled slightly, “I guess you’re right about that. Anyway, I don’t expect to get her back, not really, but I at least want to say sorry, man up and explain to her why I did what I did. I was so messed up at the time, that I didn’t really provide a good explanation, and I think she deserved to know the truth. I am hoping this is a case of better late than never, and not a case of too little too late.”

Ramirez sighed and shook his head but let it go.

The sheriff watched him with some interest, head tilted this way and that, scrutinizing him as if he was some strange looking crustation the man had found under a rock.

He stared down at the knife he now twisted between his two fingers before strapping it to his belt,

He expected the sheriff or one of the other deputies to keep going on about it, but they dropped the subject, and instead the sheriff leaned forward over the fire, “You boys did a pretty good job with those men back there. That was some good shooting, and back at the bar was some pretty good teamwork.” he looked sidelong at Adam, “Now, I can’t vouch for the intelligence of a man who would flying tackle a bandit off a horse at twenty miles an hour, but that remains to be seen I suppose.”

Ramirez and Adam lifted their head in interest.

Adam raised an eyebrow, “You trying to say something sheriff.”

The man paused scrutinizing them still, “Well McBride and his men have been bothering this community for a while now, and it needs to stop. Now we captured a few of them back there, but McBride is the one we are really after, without him his whole group falls apart and vanishes back into whatever cesspit they came from.” he paused tapping his boot thoughtfully against the dirt, “We need good fighting men to help us take them down and you two….”

Ramirez and Adam both leaned forward in some measure of excitement eyes wide.”

“And well, the two of you have more than proven your metal when it comes to the fighting aspect so….. I am more than willing to deputize you boys until we catch McBride, the help would be most appreciated.”

“HELL YEAH!”

The sheriff almost fell off his log as the two of them jumped to their feet in vehement and unbridled excitement.

A few of the deputies just shook their heads.

“City folk.” one of them whispered but the smile on his face made it clear enough that he didn’t really mean anything by it.

“Calm down! Lest I rethink my offer,” the sheriff muttered, clearly trying to appear more annoyed than he actually was. He stood, “Both raise your right hands or some shit, I don’t know.”

The two of them did as asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Now in the power vested in me by the Bramble county justice system bla bla, I hereby deputize you that you may bring justice and all that stuff or whatever. Do you swear to protect this county and all the citizens in it.”

“We swear.”

He grunted, “Good.”

The two men stared at him, grinning expectantly, “What?”

“You know what.”

He sighed, grumbled, and walked over to his saddle, reaching into the bag and pulling out two shiny golden badges both in the shape of a star. He tossed them across the topen fire at the two men, “Here, and try not to wet yourselves.”

They didn’t wet themselves of course

But there was certainly a moment of girlish screaming and jumping up and down around the fire that probably shouldn't have been done in front of a group of other men whose respect they were trying to gain.

When they sat back down finally clearing their throats and awkwardly adjusting their hats, the other men stared at them with some measure of both amusement and concern, though no one said anything.

Of course neither of them really cared.

Ramirez was still admiring his badge when a sudden frown came over his face, and he reached down to his shirt, “Damn it.”

Adam tilted his head,”What.”

“Hole in my shirt.”

He turned to see that there was, indeed, a hole in his shirt.

“Shit, I liked this shirt.” “Oh stop bitching and hand it over.”

“What.”

“Just give me the damn shirt.”

Ramirez did as told, though as he handed it over, the suspenders of his pants now hanging down at his sides he looked up grinning, “If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked.” 

Adam, not looking up from the hole replied, “I’ll be interested in your sweaty man boobs when hell freezes over.”

There was some light chuckling form around the fire as Adam reached into his bag and pulled out a small sewing kit. The group of men watched as he deftly threaded a needle, wetting the end of the thread with saliva before threading it through the small hole. Within the next few seconds he was pulling the hole in the shirt closed until it was neatly stitched back up and he handed it back to Ramirez .

He stared looking between Adam and the repaired shirt, “dude…. This… this is clean… since when have you known how to sew.”

Adam looked almost offended, “Seriously ramirez, think about who my mother is for five secons.”

“I mean yeah, but you didn’t exactly strike me as the sitting in the living room sewing with mom type.”

Adam crossed his arms, “I had a life once. Before I joined the UNSC I used to make my own costumes for conventions. My mother taught me everything she knows, and since I didn’t have a lot of friends at school I got pretty good at it.”

“Next you’ll be telling me you can knit.”

“Dude I will Knit or crochet you the best damn scarf you’ve ever worn and maybe a nice pair of mittens to go along with it.”

They stared at each other neither breaking eye contact.

“I make a mean beanie.”

Ramirez began to laugh, “You never cease to amaze me. What else can you do. I mean, you can Knit and crochet, and sew.”

“I am also pretty handy at cross-stitching, embroidery, and needlepoint.”

The other men around the fire began to laugh, though it was good natured enough.

Adam shrugged, “Laugh all you want, but I never had to worry about holes in my pants.”

“That it”

He paused and shook his head, “Well, no. I used to be able to do makeup ok, just for the costumes I did, could practically change the structure of my face. I was pretty good at it, I would say.” he frowned, rubbing his chin a bit, “I mean there were a lot of the things my mother and father taught me how to do…”

“Why…. why did you stop. That all seems fun.”

Adam paused, and then shrugged, “I…. well, I joined the UNSC and then didn’t really have time to do those things anymore. They just sort of… fell away until I kind of forgot I could even do them…. It was the same with riding horses and woodworking.”

“You used to draw too, didn’t you.”

Adam shrugged, “A little, probably could have been pretty good if I had practiced, but there wasn’t really time to do that either.”

One of the deputies prodded the fire with a stick, “Let your job kind of take over your life, didn’t you.”

He paused and shrugged, “I guess.”

“Not something that's good for a man.” The sheriff gestured around the circle, “The boys here all have things they like doing outside work. I mean I own a little farm. I like getting my hands in the dirt, and watching things grow. Clayton over there makes his own booze, and is pretty good at if I don’t say so myself. Tom there and his girl like to go dancing, won a few competitions, haven’t you Tom.”

Adam rubbed the back of his head, “Well I do have things outside my work I like to do, like flying or, watching vintage movies.”

“You're a fighter pilot, Adam, so that doesn’t count, and sci-fi movies are too close to home.”

He sighed, “Fine, fine, maybe I let the life take me over a little too much.”

Ramirez snorted, “Maybe…. Maybe?”

“Ok yeah, I DID for sure.”

“Don’t lose yourself kid. The moment you allow your job to define you, there is always the chance it could be taken away, and then you’d lose your identity all together.”

Adam grimaced at the thought, but realized they were…. Right.

What was he?

And there walsall the possibility in the world that he could lose his job. He wasn’t sure how it could be done, but he was sure it could happen. There was always the possibility of politics chasing him out of his role if he got too important. Or perhap, he would just get to old, and they wouldn’t trust him anymore.

Either way, one day he was going to be out of a job, and when that happened, he needed to make sure he was stable enough to handle it. And if he couldn’t handle his real life, right now, then he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to handle himself if he lost it.

“Get some sleep, all of you, we ride out tomorrow…. To catch a train.”

The men grumbled and maneuvered their saddles into more comfortable positions leaving one man on watch for that night.

Adam leaned back against his saddle to stare up at the stars.

There was…. An overwhelming sense of vertigo that came with looking up, a familiar sensation he had had since childhood. The stars overhead were comforting and familiar, but tonight they also seemed distant. They had been distant for a while, he supposed, and the thought left him with a deep well of sadness.

When had it been, when had he lost it….. The wide eyed childish love for what he did.

When had he become so…. So lost.

Was there a moment he could pinpoint, was there an instance he could look back on and see?

Or had it come on slowly pernicious and insidious creeping up on him slowly from behind to tackle him and bind him with such doubts and indecision.

He closed his eyes, and in his dreams he flew through the sky trailing his fingers through he stars.

[jpegjade]

Purple Scarf Problems - Spencer

WE HAVE THIS WEEK’S FIC! me and @goldentournesol​ were literally screaming to each other about this idea and i wrote it instead of studying for my business law class. i have the next story drawn up already!! 

synopsis: what happens when a purple scarf goes through it’s own trasformation?

warnings: none. it’s literally just fluff. 

__________

“Baby, you’re hogging the scarf.” You said, tugging the scarf in your direction a little bit more. 

“Okay, okay.” Spencer chuckled as he loosened the scarf from around his own neck to give it more slack for you. 

Spencer’s favorite purple scarf was so incredibly long that it’s able to look big on Spencer, as tall as he is. It was a cold and chilly day, the breeze very strong, and both you and Spencer were supposed to take the day off. It was relaxing to go into the park and take a walk with your boyfriend without the fear of something interrupting the two of you. Sure, Spencer still needed to grade papers from his last class session but he was more than happy to spend a day off with you. 

“I think we should go for a snack somewhere. Maybe at the coffee shop you love?” Spencer asked, shuffling forward a little. 

Since the scarf was wrapped around the two of you, he couldn’t walk as quickly as he normally would. He had to shuffle while you walked normally since your legs were shorter than his. 

A beautiful day outside, you and Spencer were overjoyed when you both had the day to yourselves. You were going to go to the library and check out some books but Spencer offered to walk the city with you when you woke up that morning. You knew the offer wasn’t because he wanted you to get some exercise, it was really because he wanted a reason to wear his purple scarf around since the chilly, fall air was moving in. He loved that purple thing almost as much as he loved you, no matter how much he tried to deny it. You knew better.  

Pushing open the door to the coffee shop, the long scarf around the two of you, you took in the smell of coffee grinds, the sight of the people working and conversing, and the sounds of the busy shop. It reminded you of the work you needed to get done when you got back home but what you needed right now was time with your boyfriend. You missed him so much lately that it was weird not to miss him when he was standing next to you. 

“Know what you want to drink?” Spencer asked, shuffling into the door. 

You were following him closely, trying to squeeze into the doorway when you felt something tug at you. Glancing around, you didn’t see anyone around you so you walked forward and felt more resistance. You tried one more time and finally broke free, much to Spencer’s horror. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” You asked, looking at Spencer’s paler than usual face. 

His expression was more along the lines of heartbreak and shock than it was fear so you turned to see what happened. When your brain put it together, your heart broke just as much. 

Spencer loved that longass purple scarf with all of his heart. It used to be his mom’s scarf but he started wearing it when he was in college to remind himself of what he was fighting for. You hated how long it was on him but you didn’t mind the scarf. 

You turned back to Spencer with tears flooding your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to.” You whispered. 

The scarf caught on a nail when the two of you were squeezing through the door. The resistance you felt wasn’t a person, it was the scarf being caught, pulling you back as it ripped. You knew how much the scarf meant to him and now that it was basically ruined, you felt responsible. 

Your eyes stayed on Spencer, who walked over to detached the scarf’s thread from the wall. He was quiet as he turned towards you again. He slowly unwrapped the scarf from around you then himself before he rolled it up and put it in his coat pocket. Wordlessly, he pulled you into a hug and wrapped his arms around you. 

“It’s okay.” He said, almost whispering back to you. 

His voice didn’t crack. He wasn’t angry in the least bit. He wasn’t disappointed in you. What was he? This was his favorite scarf. This was the closest he could get to his mother sometimes. This was something that kept him grounded. And you just ruined it. 

The two of you walked up to the counter, got your coffee and left in silence. The entire walk back to the apartment, Spencer kept his arm around your shoulders, occasionally squeezing you gently to reassure you that things were okay but you were still so broken up about what happened. If things were okay, he would’ve said something, right? 

Pushing open the door to the apartment, you walked through with your head hung low, shrugging Spencer's arm from your shoulders. You didn’t want to feel like you were okay when you weren’t. You ruined his favorite thing that reminds him of his mom. He probably hates you for it. 

“It’s not your fault, y/n.” Spencer said, following behind you. He basically read your mind sometimes but this wasn’t that hard to read. 

“Yes, it is my fault.” You said, a fresh set of tears coming to your eyes. You were slowly making your way to the bedroom. 

“You didn’t know the nail was there. You didn’t intentionally do this to hurt me.” Spencer said, following closely behind you. You heard the concern in his voice, something your voice should be filled with but you were just full of anger. 

“You didn’t know the nail was there.” Spencer said, walking over to his side of the bed while you climbed into yours. 

The sun was still high in the sky but you just wanted to get into bed and curl up for a while. What you needed was to curl up into Spencer and cry it out. You were the reason that his heart broke so silently back at the coffee shop. You couldn’t fix this so easily. 

“I have to fix it. I’ll make it up to you.” You told Spencer, curling into yourself on your side of the bed, back facing Spencer. 

“There’s nothing to make up to me. It’s just a scarf.” Spencer said, followed by a yawn. 

“It’s your mom’s scarf. Your mom’s friend made it for her when she was pregnant with you, long enough to keep the two of you warm. You love that scarf and I ruined it. I ruined something that keeps you together better than I ever could some days.” A sob caught in your throat. 

“Love, come here.” Spencer gently wrapped his arm around your waist, nuzzling himself into your back. 

“You are being way too nice, Spencer.” You were so disappointed in yourself, knowing you couldn’t fix it. 

“I know you’re going to blame yourself for this but you didn’t do this on purpose. It was a freak incident. I wish I had a statistic for you regarding the probability that something like this would happen but that’s incredibly specific to know. Although, I have more specific facts for you…” Spencer nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck and you felt some of the tension in your shoulders release. 

Heaving a big sigh, you stayed quiet. Soon, a single moment turned into minutes and Spencer’s breathing turned heavy. His grip around your waist slackened and you knew he was sleeping. 

You knew you had to do something about the heavy feeling in your stomach but you didn’t know what. So you carefully slipped from under Spencer’s arm, replacing your body with a pillow. You watched him grin in his sleep as he cuddle up to the pillow. You felt a sadness in your heart remind you that you needed to fix what happened somehow. Anything was better than nothing. Pacing the living room for a couple minutes, racking your brain for answers, you got a single idea. 

Grabbing your phone, basic emergency sewing kit, and the scarf out of Spencer’s coat pocket on the couch, you got to work sitting on the living room floor. Taking your scissors, you started snipping the end of the scarf where the nail got caught. It seemed to go on forever, more of the thread coming loose as you worked on it, fabric everywhere. The video wasn’t as helpful as you thought it would be but it worked well enough. You had to modify some of the instructions through some trial and error but by the time you were done, you were positive that everything was going to be okay again. 

Spencer slowly woke up, noticing that you were smaller than normal. His eyes felt so heavy but he knew he needed to get up and see if you were feeling any better. 

“Love?” Spencer said, opening his eyes more. 

He noticed you weren’t there anymore. A pillow was in his arms instead of you and that worried him. It was rare that he woke up from a nap and you weren’t there, especially since today was your off day. He rolled out of bed, looking for you outside of the bedroom but you were nowhere to be found. 

“Where’s my phone…” He said, walking to the kitchen for a snack. 

Grabbing a pack of scooby doo snacks, he poured all of the snacks in his hand and threw away the wrapper. He noticed something that caught his eye in the trash: a heap of purple fabric. 

His mouth dropped open, his brain unsure how to process what he was seeing. You threw away his scarf… You were the same person who was broken up about how much the scarf meant to him and you just threw it away the first chance you got. Spencer couldn’t believe it as tears came to his eyes. He couldn’t believe this at all. His emotions were colliding at this simple action and he didn’t really know what to think.

Spencer felt a couple tears roll onto his cheeks when he heard the door unlocking. Quickly wiping his tears, he turned towards the door, fruit snacks in hand. 

You pushed the door open carefully, hoping not to wake Spencer. You also didn’t want to tip the coffee over from the drink tray in your hands. Almost there…

“Oh my god.” Spencer expelled all the breath in his lungs as he saw the only thing that mattered. 

Rushing over to you, taking you by surprise, he lifted the scarf from your shoulders and brought it to his cheek. He gently rubbed the soft fabric on the side of his face, a smile slowly appearing. 

“I missed you so much.” Spencer muttered to the scarf. 

“Love you too, babe.” You chuckled, bringing the coffee to the table. 

Judging by his reaction to the new and adjusted scarf, he was more than excited about what you had done. He held the scarf out in front of him before wrapping it around his neck and frowning. 

“You did this?” Spencer said, his hands fiddling with the ends of the scarf. 

“Yeah… Spencer, I’m so sorry. I tried so hard to fix what I had done and I mean it’s a normal scarf now, just long enough for one person but...” You looked at your feet. 

You didn’t see Spencer coming as he enveloped you in a warm, tight hug. 

“Thank you, y/n.” Spencer mumbled. “Thank you. I love it.”

Your heart swelled. You knew he was saddened but he cared so much about you that he didn’t let it show too much. Now that he could let it out, you felt so much better about the whole situation.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine

[sadpotatoondrugs]

Time For a Change Ch.4

<< – First

<< Prev   |   Next >>

——————————–

Marinette is embarrassed and I’m ashamed of myself

——————————–

“I… think that’s everything?” Marinette questioned quietly after checking that she had all the items on her ‘bring with me’ list… For the third time. After she got back from her meetup with Kagami the day before, she made the list of all the things she would need to pack. She wasn’t stressed about bringing clothing or something like that, but rather about an emergency sewing kit and such.

But wait, wasn’t the wedding supposed to be two days from the meetup? Marinette said so herself!

Yes, indeed she did. But she forgot about one thing.

You see, since her parents were asked to cater for the buffet of the wedding, they had to arrive earlier than all of the guests, including the groom and the bride. While the wedding itself was going to be on December 14th, it was going to start early in the morning – which meant a ton of things to prepare the day prior. Along with being asked to cater, the Dupain-Chengs also held the positions of a bridesmaid and a maid of honor, so they were going to oversee the preparations and make sure everything goes according to plan.

“Marinette! We’re leaving in 15 minutes! Make sure you have everything!”

“Yes, maman!” Closing the suitcase, she sighed in relief. Looking over at the bridesmaid dress, currently laid on her chaise in a garment bag, she started bringing her luggage downstairs. She struggled a little bit, more because of the maneuvering than the weight; She had been working out, after all.

She brought her luggage to the van they borrowed and placed it in the appropriate place and went around to the back to potentially help her parents with loading the cake into the van.

Why ‘Borrowed’, you ask? No? Well, I’m gonna tell you anyway.

The bakery they bought a long time ago wasn’t originally a bakery. Her parents built the bakery from scratch and were happy with the results. At the time, it didn’t even matter to them if the place was small; they were just starting out and were barely known. Even as they became well-known, their customers commented that the bakery was warm and welcoming. The downside was that the building had no garage, which was becoming a problem with their rising number of orders. Thankfully, her parents were grateful for a friend of theirs that provided delivery services. They cooperated on big deliveries and often shared a part of the income. Thus, their problem was solved.

After helping her parents move the cake and many, many pastries, desserts and many more heavenly sweets for the buffet, the family got into the van and begun their two hours long way to the wedding venue.

When they arrived, it was already 10 AM and the workers there were already hard at work. Even though they were present for probably about 3 hours, the venue was barely decorated – but that was acceptable, given the space they were working with. Nadja, being a successful reporter, had met a lot of people in her life and made a lot of friends along the way. It was to be expected that the wedding was going to be big. And by big, we mean Castle of Esclimont big.

From what Marinette saw, chairs and tables outside were already set up randomly with people moving them to find the perfect placement and there were boxes of decorations waiting to be opened. The place was already being decorated with fake and cold-withstanding flowers to give in to the theme of the wedding. The family made their way into the castle, where the rooms for the guests of the wedding were supposed to be.

“Alright, Marinette. If you need us, we will be helping out with the decorations.” Her mother smiled gently, walking out of the room with her husband in tow.

Marinette looked around the room, taking in the details of it. The design of the walls, floor and furniture reflected the style of the building. It held the feeling of being in a royal bedroom. The furniture, while new and modern, was styled in a way that basically screamed ‘history’. But as traditional, antique, old-fashioned, however you may call it, as it was, the hand of modern technology did not just pass by the area without leaving something behind. There was a safe in the corner of the closet, a TV opposite of the bed and the bathroom the room was adjacent to was fully modern.

Which was completely understandable. As much as the old-time look of it all made Marinette admire the building, she (and, probably, everybody else) would certainly not want to pee in a bucket.

Checking the hallway in case her parents forgot something, she closed the door into the room and approached her bed, where she opened her suitcase.

“You can come out, Tikki.”

Tikki immediately flew out of her chosen’s pocket and looked around, darting to every corner of the room. Marinette let her kwami search for a hiding spot while she upacked a few of her things. She didn’t know how long they were going to stay, but if things all went according to plan, they would leave the day after the wedding. She didn’t want to unpack all of her things in case she wouldn’t even use them. She unpacked her hygiene products, her pajamas and casual clothes, putting them into the built-in closet next to the bridesmaid dress.

Last, she brought out her sewing kit and laid it next to the door, where it was easy to find and reach in case of a fashion emergency. Nothing could ruin such a special day. And nothing would.

Marinette could only hope that Hawkmoth wouldn’t decide to send out an akuma while the ceremony was held.

Tikki returned soon after Marinette finished unpacking her stuff and they both made their way outside to see the decorations and help out with the preparations.

When she got there, she saw a glimpse of her father helping carry two tables into the garden. Instead of calling out to him, she searched for her mom.

She found her by the entrance of the castle, carrying various sweats and pastries out of the van.

“Tom already brought the cake in, so all we have to do is take the other desserts over to the kitchen fridge.” Silently, Marinette started picking up boxes of treats from the van and followed her mother into the kitchens. She was pleasantly surprised that the kitchens were well maintained, unlike those in certain restaurants. The place looked properly cleaned, with small exceptions that could be pardoned in such a big kitchen.

After about half an hour later, the van was completely emptied and Marinette and her mother went over to help with the decorations. Being close to the bride, Sabine went over to the woman organizing the furniture and the two discussed the arrangements together. Marinette, not wanting to butt in on their conversation, helped various people with moving the furniture to the appropriate place and, occasionally, suggesting a change of the placement or décor.

They took a small break around lunch, to eat and relax for a bit, before going back and managing the details and making sure the staff at the hotel all knew about the wedding and had instructions on what to do. There was still quite a few things to décor, but that would all be finished in time for the wedding the next day.

At 7pm, they took another break to eat dinner and, again, relax. By that time, the majority of the venue was ready for the wedding ceremony. Sabine even sent Marinette away, saying that they’ve got it handled and she could do what she wanted. She helped out for a little while after that with table decorations, before she decided that she really was tired and went into her room.

She passed by a glass door and, with her curiosity taking over, peeked through the glass. She saw a garden; different to the one where the wedding was to be taking place, which was behind the castle. This one was on it’s side, so it seemed. There was a pretty big pool with folded chairs next to it. Since it was so late, she didn’t see anybody else in the pool garden, so she buttoned-up her coat and stepped outside. As she approached the pool, she noticed an archway on the side of it, connected to a stone wall that wrapped around the area of the garden. It was a pathway into another building that belonged to the castle grounds, trees were planted on one side of the sand path, the other being protected by the castle’s wall. She didn’t want to venture further, though. As guests, they had restrictions and she didn’t want to accidentally enter a place where she wasn’t allowed. She turned around, about to head back into her room, when she heard a rustle in the bushes nearby. Startled, she quickly turned around to get inside as quickly as she could – it was already hard to see outside, after all, when she bumped into somebody.

The impact wasn’t strong enough for her to fall over, but it did make her stumble. She began apologizing straight away.

“Oh my go- I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going- I-“ Looking up, she froze in place.

Her first thought was Adrien Agreste.

Why?

Because in front of her stood a boy strangely too similar to her blond classmate.

She would assume it was Adrien further, had she not noticed the distinct differences between the two. For instance, while the boy in front of her had the same shade of golden blond hair as Adrien, they seemed to be a bit longer and combed to the side. His face strangely resembled Adrien’s in the structure, but upon closer look, Marinette could see that he had sharper cheekbones and a more defined jawline. Lastly, the most distinctive feature, his eyes. Instead of green, Marinette stared into a pair of silvery grey eyes.

There was a pause, before Marinette realized the situation they were in and stepped away from him.

“Sorry, I- ” There was another pause, as Marinette took in his appearance. He had a coat on, unbuttoned, and she noticed he wore a formalwear. It was similar to what she saw some of the castle staff wear. Her eyes widened. “-I’m so sorry, I didn’t see any sign that this area was prohibited to guests. Please don’t tell the security, or call your boss, or anything, I was just curious and-”

“Miss, I assure you that you are not in any trouble. This area is indeed available to guests so you do not need to worry.” She sighed out in relief, “Also, I am not an employee.” She stiffened up again, her eyes widening slightly. Great, now she unknowingly insulted him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I just saw your clothes and assumed- I’m so sorry.” He nodded, a sign that he took her apology. The conversation seemed to end there, which Marinette didn’t mind. The situation was embarrassing enough and she was glad to head back.

The bush moved again, though, which cause both their heads to turn into it’s direction. She saw the stranger move towards it and reach out to it. A moment later, out of the bush emerged a black kitty. It was more of a cat, but still held the resemblance of a kitten, hinting on it’s young age.

“So that’s what was hiding in there. You really startled me, little guy.” Marinette whispered softly, making the kitty wince slightly before cautiously stepping fully out of the bush. Only after the stranger crouched down did Marinette notice a bag in his hand.

She watched as the stranger pulled the contents of the bag out and handed them to the kitty, who was obviously hungry. She smiled subconsciously, admiring the care he showed. Not in a romantic way, though, but Marinette always admired kind and good-hearted people. There weren’t many of them in the world, after all.

She turned around and left the two alone, walking into her own room.

Tikki scolded her only a little bit for wandering off somewhere this dark and alone. She knew that Marinette would hold her own against many people, but it didn’t ease her worry for the young heroine. If something were to happen to her physically after what she had to endure emotionally in school… Well, let’s just say we wouldn’t want another ‘Plagg accidentally uses cataslysm’ event.

She was simply worried.

Marinette returned to her room a little after 8pm, changing into her pajamas and turning on the TV, she grabbed the sketchbook and filled it with the many ideas for designs inspired by the old-fashioned style of the castle.

Her parents came back a little after 10pm, wishing her a good night before heading into their own room to rest. She followed suit and, after setting up a few alarm clocks to wake up in time to prepare for the wedding, she went to sleep.

The morning was hectic. Marinette couldn’t imagine what Nadja must be going through at the time, because she was nervous as hell, and she wasn’t even the bride. Her morning started normally, with her daily morning routine.

The wedding starts at 10, or at least, that’s when the vendors arrive to prepare for ceremony setup.

Nadja was already in the castle, having arrived in the middle of the night due to personal reasons, and will probably start getting ready for the wedding soon. Marinette wanted to stop by in case she needed help with the dress or to announce that if something were to happen at any time, she is prepared and to find her.

Stepping out of her room, she noticed that the halls were already busy with people running to prepare for the ceremony. She kept her guard up, evaded any possible collisions with others and made it all the way into Nadja’s dressing room.

Knocking on the door, she heard the voice of her mom yell out “Come in! But if you’re the groom, you’re gonna feel my foot on your back as I kick you out!” Giggling quietly, she entered the room and greeted the women. There was only her mom and Nadja that she recognized, then three other young women, who she assumed were friends of Nadja and probably the other bridesmaids.

Nadja was still out of her dress, and it seemed that the preparations were only starting, as the women were only spreading out hordes of make-up and bottles of nail polish on the table now.

“Good morning, mom. Good morning, Nadja. I hope you’re well rested.” Nadja gave her a sheepish and a little nervous smile.

“I mean, as well as a bride on her wedding day can be.” She smiled at the woman, before her attention was switched to her mom, who faced her suddenly.

“Good morning, sweetie, could you please inform your father that I’ll meet with him at the ceremony? I don’t think I will have enough time to tell him myself, so I would need you to give him this.” She handed her a notebook that she grabbed from a nearby table, “And, please, help him out with setting up the buffet.” Marinette nodded and headed for the door, before pausing.

“Oh, Nadja? If there is any problem, I brought an emergency kit. If anything happens, find me immediately.” Nadja bid her thanks and smiled at her appreciatingly. Marinette nodded again and made her way into the kitchens. She found her father and gave him the notebook, which she found out was filled with notes about certain foods and directions on where to put them.

She helped him out with setting up the buffet table and putting up final decorations on the tables. By then, it was already 11am and the vendors were hard at work with their own preparations. The first guests would arrive around 12 o’clock, so by then, she would have to be ready.

She released her hair from her pigtails and put on her bridesmaid’s dress. With a little bit of Tikki’s help, she managed to zip it up and move on to the hairstyle. She looked herself over in the mirror, deciding on what to do with her hair since the bridesmaid’s weren’t instructed on a specific type of hairstyle to use. She decided to leave it simple and put her hair into a bun, similar to the one she did when she was younger, only slightly different thanks to the difference in her hair length from then and now. Last, she let out a few streaks of hair on the sides of her head to better frame her face.

She felt satisfied with the results, the last thing to decide was whether or not she was going to put makeup on. She wasn’t very skilled with it, since she normally didn’t use it, hence her hesitation to do so. In the end, she used a red lipstick and a little bit of blush. At the very least, her red lipstick would match her red earrings.

When she was finally all done, it was almost 12 o’clock. She was surprised by how long it took her to get ready. She grabbed a small red purse (she silently celebrated that she brought it along just in case), where she put her phone and where Tikki would be hiding for the rest of the day – she didn’t need to bring any more of her stuff, since if she needed anything, it was like a five minute walk to her room. Putting the purse around her shoulder, she went over to her dresser where her bodice and flower crown were, put it on and swiftly left her room.

She arrived around the same time as the first guests did, for she saw a pair dressed in formalwear talking to one of the staff who was pointing towards where the ceremony would be held. She went out of the palace and into the garden, pulling the furry bodice closer to her form once she realized how cold it really was.

She waved at her father, who’s eyes widened when his attention switched to her. As she approached, he warmly greeted her with a hug.

“You look beautiful, darling.” Giggling, she did a 360 before walking over behind the buffet table.

“Thank you, same goes to you.” Her father wasn’t one for formalwear, he claimed that it was stretchy and uncomfortable, so he chose not to wear it unless he really had to. But Marinette had to admit, it did look good on him.

Looking over the notebook her mother provided earlier, she began arranging various items on the list into their stated places. She had no idea why the food had an order in which to be placed, but she didn’t question it. She just did as she was instructed. While she did that, her father kept bringing more and more of the pastries. At one point, Marinette worried that it wouldn’t all fit on the table.

She later found out that there was a secret fridge/freezer under the table, out of the eyes of the guests and easily available for the stuff to resupply the table.

They finished quite fast, not even half an hour later, they were finished and left the table for the staff to resupply when needed. She talked with her dad for a while before he was called by a group of people she didn’t know. By the way he greeted them, though, he seemed to know them quite well. She looked around, searching for a familiar face. Spotting none, she turned towards one of the people struggling with the cables for the lightning and sound. She approached them and offered a helping hand.

Halfway through the work, the guests were invited to head over to where the ceremony was being held, so Marinette bid goodbye to the workers (who thanked her for the help), and headed over to the ceremony stand. The ceremony itself wasn’t going to start right away, Marinette guessed it would take another thirty minutes, but she wanted to be able to relax before the main moment of the day starts. That, and in case she had to quickly run away.

She stood of slightly to the side, by the table where the drinks were served – there was literally a punch bowl like in those high school proms on tv. She opened her purse, checking subtly on Tikki while grabbing her phone and opening the news channel.

While Nadja might be absent for a while and a bunch of her coworkers were attending the wedding, there was plenty of reporters still working and being on call if there was an akuma present. She was glad that she didn’t see any alert for one and would had to hope that it would stay that way for the rest of the day. Putting her phone back, she turned around and decided to drink a little before the ceremony.

She went to pour herself a cup of punch, subtly even asking Tikki if she wanted to try it since she never had any and didn’t know how it tasted.

Meow.

She looked around, quite startled by the sound. Was that a cat she just heard?

Her eyes fell to the ground behind the drink table, where the same black kitty from the day before was hiding. Her eyes softened as it meowed again, it’s voice a bit strained.

“You, again? What are you doing here, little guy? You cannot be here.” A meow was the response she got. Her eyes fell on one of the bottles of water on the table. She grabbed one and approached the kitty. She filled the cap with it and offered it to the kitty. It seemed cautious for a bit, sniffling the cap before drinking the water inside.

After refilling the cup five times, the kitty no longer wanted to drink and only kept looking at Marinette and meowing.

“Perhaps it’s hungry?” She heard a familiar voice behind her, and only then realized that the kitty wasn’t looking at her anymore but at something behind her. Turning around, her eyes widened slightly before going back to normal once she relaxed.

“The buffet table won’t do, the items there seem to all contain chocolate. We might need to ask one of the cooks for a roll.” Marinette nodded while the blond approached the kitty slowly. She watched him interact with it, gently reaching out his hand for the kitty to sniff, before gently picking it up. Marinette wondered if she should let him take care of the kitty alone, but she replayed his sentence in her mind and realized that it held an invitation to come along. And, seeing as the ceremony room was still only half full of people, she came along.

It was a silent walk, something that Marinette found slightly uncomfortable for some reason.

“Sooo,” She started, seeing him slightly turn his head towards her as an indication that she had his attention gave her enough confidence to continue, “you’re a guest of the wedding, too, then.” He turned his head back into it’s original position.

“Yes, it would seem that way.” He responded quite blatantly. It would sound a little on the harsher side, but Marinette didn’t see any emotions of annoyance or anger on the boy’s face, so she assumed he was simply being polite. “Perhaps it was cold, it’s not meowing anymore.”

The two paused to look at the kitty. It seemed comfortable in the man’s arms. As soon as it noticed their eyes on it, it meowed again.

“Or not.” Marinette stated, before pausing. “Are cats even allowed in the castle?”

“Even if they’re not, we are just taking it into the reception before taking it right back outside. It shouldn’t cause any trouble.”

She nodded. The two made their way into the reception, where the man dealt with the receptionist who immediately ran over to inform them about the no pet policy.

Marinette left him alone with the kitty and the receptionist while she went into the kitchen. She asked one of the cooks who she met the day before for some rolls, if they had any. They offered her a baguette on the house and she happily accepted.

When she walked outside, she saw the man patiently waiting by the door outside, with the kitty secured in his arms. She walked over to him and the two walked back outside.

“I wonder what’s going to happen to it.” She wondered out loud. The boy looked at her questioningly. She continued, “I mean.. It’s still just a kitty. And it’s about to be winter and this little thing is clearly homeless.” The boy seemed to ponder over her words for a while.

“Well, you could take it in yourself.” She shook her head at the idea, already knowing too many reasons as to why that was a bad idea.

“I live in a bakery and we cannot have pets inside. The possibility of a cat hair being in one of the products is way too high.” She informed him, which he seemed to nod at.

“Perhaps we can ask around if anybody wants a kitty. One of the guests here might be looking for one.”

“Yeah…”

The two reached the garden with the pool, now occupied with a few of the guests. They walked over to the tree they found the kitty the day before and sat it down. Marinette crushed the baguette and picked out the soft inside of it for the kitty. They sat there for a while, just watching the kitty eat.

“Sorry again about yesterday.” The boy looked her way again, silently. He was not much of a talker, Marinette noticed. Or perhaps he just didn’t feel like making big talk with a stranger. “About bumping into you, I mean.” Suddenly, he made an expression different to the neutral one he wore up until now.

She cursed silently, she probably just made him uncomfortable now or something.

“Oh, that was you?”

Marinette blanched.

He didn’t remember her!

She suddenly felt embarrassed again.

What’s with this place always making me feel like a fool?

“Heh… Yeah…” The conversation went quiet after that, and Marinette actually thought about just turning around, saying her goodbye and bolting out of there.

“I apologize. I didn’t quite pay much attention to you yesterday. My focus was mainly on the kitten.” She sighed out, at least he was making an effort to lessen the tension.

“Well, let’s drop the topic. I’d rather not relieve that moment again.” The kitty sneezed and their attention was immediately on it.

“We should leave the little guy here for now. We’ll see if it remains here until after the ceremony is over.”

“Yeah.”

The two stood up and walked back into the gardens. The place seemed to be full with guests, most of them were already sitting in their assigned chairs. Marinette paused, unsure if she should stay and converse with the boy or head over to meet up with the other bridesmaids for the walk down the aisle. But, seeing as he didn’t seem to move either, she stayed.

“In what relation are you to Nadja?” She asked, actually curious.

“I am merely an acquaintance. It’s my mother that actually knows Madame Chamack.” He then looked at her in a way that suggested he was asking the same question.

“My mother and her are long-time friends and our families are actually really close.”

“I see.”

Right in that moment, it was announced that the ceremony was about to start. As the rest of the guests started to walk over into their assigned seats, she turned to the boy for the last time.

“I must say, even though our first encounter wasn’t the best, Mademoiselle…”

“Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She smiled kindly.

“Very well, it was very nice meeting you, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng.”

“The pleasure was mine, Monsieur…”

The boy reached out his hand, which Marinette shook gently.

“Felix. Felix Graham de Vanily.”

[masterlist]

Okay so I fucked up and forgot to add a taglist, sorry guys, please forgive my dumbass self <3

@miraculous-ninja @moongoddesskiana @flufflepuffle296 @wannajointhecrabcult @meme991001 @ladybug-182 Really sorry guys. Also, if any of you wanna be added to the taglist, just msg me directly or comment on this post 

#time for a change #Marinette #marinette dupain cheng #MLB #fanfic #mlb fanfic #ml salt #salt #felinette #felix culpa #felix graham de vanily #Felix #ml class salt #lila salt #Marinette deserves better

[onthepyre]

rest your bones next to me (part 3)

SORRY ITS BEEN FOREVER I DIDNT FORGET I PROMISE

previous 

1.4k, swearing, prinxiety, playing into stereotypes for sympathy, 

The floor was cold when Virgil woke up.  The fall chill had seeped through the walls of the apartment overnight, and he realized with slight alarm that he was alone.  Roman was no longer snoring next to him and the bed inches away was empty.  He wondered, mind thick with sleep, what time it was, and what his parents were doing.  It was a sore spot in his mind, but he poked at it anyways like it was a bad cavity — just to make sure it still hurt.

His back cracked when he stood.  Virgil glanced around the room looking for a clock, but he could only judge by the sun through the window.  It was probably past eight, at the least.  He ventured into the kitchen, only to find it empty except for Roman, who sat at the table with a glass of water and the same book Janus had been reading last night.

“What time is it?” he asked, blinking away the last remains of grogginess.  

“Uh, 10:30-ish, I think.  Patton left for work about two hours ago.”

“Don’t you have something to do?  Why didn’t you wake me up?”  Virgil sat down across from Roman, forcing him to put down the book.

“You deserve some sleep after everything.  First night’s always the worst one.”  Roman smiled gently, a knowing warmth in his eyes.

“So it does get better?” Virgil asked, voice soft.  He traced the lines and chips of the table with his nail.

“It still hurts, but you kind of get used to it.  You find ways to deal.”  Virgil nodded.  He spent a moment taking in the walls of the apartment, the old furniture, and chilly air.  The idea of calling it home for a while didn’t hurt too much, if he had Roman there to fall asleep on the floor with him and say annoyingly reflective things.  Roman broke the silence, finally.  “Do you usually eat breakfast?  Because none of us do, but I don’t want to suddenly cut your diet in half or anything, so I can make you coffee or some toast if you want.”

“No, that’s okay.  Even if I did, it would be too late to eat, anyway.”  Virgil stood and leaned against the chair.  “Didn’t Patton say you were taking me shopping?”

Roman rose and began walking towards the door, and Virgil followed behind him.  “Well, ‘shopping’ is a liberal word.  Have you ever stolen anything before?”

Virgil shot him a concerned look as he opened the front door.  “No?  I mean, when I was a kid, but never intentionally.”

“Awesome!  There’s a first time for everything—”  Roman turned to wink at him “—and I’m glad to be here for yours.”  

“Shut up,” Virgil mumbled, feeling his face grow slightly hot.  He fumbled for a way out.  “Does Patton know about this?”

Roman grimaced.  “Eh, sort of.  He knows we do it, but he hates it, so he just doesn’t ask.  It saves money, though, so he can’t really complain.  I usually just tell him I’ve got enough cash with me.”

“What about Janus?”  Virgil knew his attempts were futile, so he kept his gaze focused on the ground.  

“He’s proud of us.  Logan and I have gotten pretty good at it, actually, and Janus thinks it’s great.”  

Virgil nodded, lips pursed.  “Alright, then.  What are we stealing?”

“Scrap fabric, basically.  Something to patch your jacket with.  Pat’s got a sewing kit at home, so we can fix it up pretty easy.”  They stopped at a crosswalk, and Roman seized his opportunity.  “You’re not from this part of the city, right?”

“No, my parents live North of here.  We’ve been to Manhattan a few times, but we usually stayed out of the city.  It was always too loud for my mom.”

“Okay,” Roman began, “So, the Goodwill we’re going to is about three blocks from here.  The laundromat is four blocks in the opposite direction, and then one more is the dollar store where we buy groceries, and there’s a park I play guitar at a few streets behind the apartment.  And then the theater Remus and I work at is a little past that.”

Virgil nodded.  “There’s no way in hell I’m going to remember all that.”

“That’s alright,” Roman said with a chuckle.  “You’ll pick it up.  Plus, you’ve got me to guide you.”  He threw an arm lazily around Virgil’s shoulders in a sort-of hug, but didn’t drop it until Virgil moved away.  They made the rest of the trip in relative silence until Roman stopped them on the street corner just before the store.  

“Alright, here’s the plan,” he hissed.  “We’re on a date, you find whatever you want, we pretend to make out in the fitting rooms, you tie it around your waist or something, and then we just… leave.  It’s like acting.  Are you ready?”

“Where the hell did you come up with this plan?”

“Sounds good, let’s go.”

Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand, swinging it a little as they walked.  Roman’s grip was firm, probably to make sure he didn’t try to get out, but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to be bothered.  It was kind of nice, really.

Roman started giggling before they were even inside the store.  “This is going to be so fun!” he exclaimed, voice an octave higher than normal.  

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed, trying to mask his confusion.  “I’m so excited.”

Roman dragged him to the t-shirts, where he dropped Virgil’s hand to sort through the racks.  “You’re gonna look so cute after I give you a makeover, babe.  What about this?”  He held up a neon pink crop-top with a moustache on it.  “Very 2012.”

“Uh… I think I’ll pass.”  He busied himself with the array of bright colors in front of him.

“Wait!  What about an oversized shirt?  That would be so fab!”  Roman reached for his hand again, then leaned in close to whisper.  “Plus, it’s more fabric to work with.”

“Yeah, that sounds alright.”  Virgil let himself be pulled along, again letting go of Roman’s hand to look through the rows of clothing.

They searched quietly for a moment before Virgil removed something from the rack.  “What about this?”

He held a flannel, purple plaid and practically brand new.  It was good quality, thick enough to be worn in winter.

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Roman said, undertones of his natural voice audible beneath the falsetto.  “You’ll look so good.”  He grinned, wide, and to Virgil it seemed genuine.  “Come on,” he murmured.

They walked to the fitting rooms, Roman snickering and Virgil doing his best to play along.  Roman tugged them into the last stall, where he sat down on the only chair.  It was a tight fit, even with Virgil pressed against the wall.

“The hell is up with that voice?” Virgil asked, hushed.  

“Gay voice.  You get more sympathy if you just go with their expectations.  Give me that flannel.”  Roman was back to speaking normally now, if more softly, and Virgil found a sort of peace in his gravelly whisper.  He handed the garment over.  Roman pulled a switchblade from his pocket and cut the tag.

“Okay, so I know not to make you mad,” Virgil said under his breath.

“It’s not for people, it’s a tool.”

“You’re a tool.”

“Just take this,” Roman hissed, holding out the flannel.  Virgil shed his jacket to put it on underneath.  Roman stood, leaving only inches between them.  He reached up and ran his hands through his hair a few times, then did the same to Virgil’s.

“Hold your breath,” Roman said.  “It makes your face red.”

Virgil obliged, and Roman copied him, silently competing to see who could go the longest without taking a breath; Roman won by a few seconds.

“Are we good now?” Virgil asked. “Yeah.”  Roman nodded.  “Try to look giddy.  In love.  Whatever.”  He gripped Virgil’s hand again and threw open the door, laughing breathlessly.  Virgil pressed against his side as they walked, trying to make as much contact as he could.  He smiled in his best attempt at shyness when they passed the cashier, and pressed the side of his head into Roman’s shoulder.

“Did you boys find everything?”  The woman at the register beamed in a way that could only be fake.

“Yep, thanks so much!”  Roman’s sickly sweet falsetto was back, and he threw up a hand in a wave.  Virgil expected alarms to go off when they walked out the sliding doors, but none did.  He looked up at Roman once they had left the vicinity of the store.

“Holy shit,” he said, “I can’t believe that worked.”

“It always does,” Roman said, almost wistfully.  “What do you think?”

Virgil paused for a moment.  “That was pretty fun.”

#prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #fluff #theft #fake relationship #fake dating #june's writing