#sorry i just ended up wasting five minutes trying to figure out if a lesbian who uses '''male''' terminology was nonbinary enough for my ow

[falinscloaca]

i do find it really funny actually that lots of sapphic terminology tends to evolve as a game of "spot-the-problem" whack-a-mole

#sapphic and lesbian are arguably most un-deconstructable because they aren't like. made up of descriptive parts. theyre both names i mean #but like. 'not everyone is a lesbian -and i wont use sapphic for reasons- just say wlw!' 'not even all LESBIANS are women!' #'i define lesbians as just women' 'YOU LITERALLY INCLUDE PEOPLE WHO DONT IDENTIFY AS WOMEN IN WITH LESBIANS' #'how about including 'nblw' in with that?' 'where does that leave attraction to- ok but unless we literally write out nblw wlnb nblnb & wlw #every time we refer to sapphics as a group then thats just kinda reductive? and like also thats writing the element of lesbian-iness outta #nonbinary lesbians attraction to each other...' #sorry i just ended up wasting five minutes trying to figure out if a lesbian who uses '''male''' terminology was nonbinary enough for my ow #narrow definitions or not. i learned nothing from the exercise -having known better from the start- and wished to put that energy into SOME #sort of ranting that had a bit more to actually fucking say than 'this loser spent like ten minutes trying to vet her own definitions #against some stranger's on the internet. yeah to her self. no she wasn't even really planning on doing anything with that information.' #so uh in conclusion wlw is so god damn clunky its unbelievable.

[letterboxd]

Pride: 25 Queer Films To Love.

Dating Amber writer and director David Freyne introduces our London correspondent Ella Kemp to 25 of his favorite LGBTQIA films.

A coming-out, coming-of-age film, David Freyne’s Dating Amber follows “baby gays” Eddie (Fionn O’Shea) and Amber (Lola Petticrew), who act as each other’s beards in order to stop speculation about their sexualities. Released on Amazon Prime Video in the UK for Pride month, it’s winning praise from Letterboxd members as a “charming” and “gentle” comedy-drama “full of loveliness that extends beyond the Irish accents”.

Lola Petticrew and Fionn O’Shea as Amber and Eddie in ‘Dating Amber’.

As the number of films by and about the gay and trans community expands, we asked Freyne if he could narrow down a list of ten favorites for us. The answer was no—instead, we got 25!

“There are so many extraordinary queer films beyond this list, but all of these films just really affected me when I saw them. Some were the first time I saw queerness on screen, while I deeply identified with others. And, as a filmmaker, each of them makes me braver to fight to tell stories that aren't always easy to get made.

“They are in no particular order because I don’t want to bump into Barry Jenkins (which is obviously going to happen) and have to explain that he is number five on that list (that he will definitely read) for no specific reason. It’s just a technicality.”

David Freyne’s 25 Favorite LGBTQIA+ Films

My Summer of Love (2004) Directed by Paweł Pawlikowski

Paweł Pawlikowski’s film feels like a dream that sweeps you up along with it, helped along by incredible early performances from Natalie Press and Emily Blunt. The hypnotic use of Goldfrapp's ‘Lovely Head’ is probably my favorite use of a song in any film ever. Their drug-fuelled dancing was a massive inspiration for Eddie and Amber’s baby steps into Dublin’s gay scene in Dating Amber.

Weekend (2011) Directed by Andrew Haigh

I never fail to cry buckets at the end of this heartbreaking gem. It’s small in the best sense of the word. Two people fall in love over one intimate weekend. Their gayness is both incidental and totally fundamental. It’s so delicate and moving. Andrew Haigh is a master.

But I’m a Cheerleader (1999) Directed by Jamie Babbit

Jamie Babbit’s debut is a brilliant, campy comedy about a cheerleader sent to a conversion therapy camp. I love it for all the reasons many critics (at the time) disliked it. It is subversive, quirky and defiantly upbeat. And it stars Natasha Lyonne and Clea Duvall. Enough said.

Paris is Burning (1990) Directed by Jennie Livingston

I’m not saying anything new when I say that Paris is Burning is necessary viewing. It’s a hilarious, moving and eye-opening look at the (mostly) Black trans women in New York’s ball scene. It is a glimpse into the lives of these extraordinary people who risked everything to live authentically, for themselves and each other. And at a time when our trans family is so under attack, it is vital to see such iconic figures from our community. You’ve probably seen it. Re-watch it. Also those end notes will make you cry.

Happy Together (1997) Directed by Wong Kar-wai

As with all Wong Kar-wai’s work, it is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. It’s a tough watch, a portrait of a toxic, failing relationship. But it looks beautiful. They’re miserable and co-dependent. It’s abusive and awful. But it’s great. It really is a great film. I’m not selling this one well. Just watch it.

Moonlight (2016) Directed by Barry Jenkins

Definitely worth watching after Happy Together. Not just because it will make you feel better, but because Barry Jenkins has noted it as a big influence. Also, Moonlight is a masterpiece. You know that, of course. Side note: I realize I’ll never be able to create a hand-job scene as powerful and tender as Jenkins did here, but, in Dating Amber, I made three comedy hand-jobs. Take that Jenkins!

God’s Own Country (2017) Directed by Francis Lee

You can feel Francis Lee in every frame of this film. It’s personal filmmaking at its very best, with wonderful performances from Josh O’Connor and Alec Secăreanu. And it has the most beautifully romantic ending that you only realize we lack for LGBTQ characters when you see it laid out so wonderfully. When we were trying to finance Dating Amber and people suggested it was too Irish, I’d just reference God’s Own Country, which is so defiantly Yorkshire, and they’d shut up. Also, Secăreanu’s jumper with a thumb hole is my style icon. Bring on Ammonite!

Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018) Directed by Marielle Heller

Marielle Heller is such a brilliant filmmaker. This film is based on the memoir by Lee Israel who forged letters by famous people to sell. It’s a genre piece that feels like it could have been made in the 70s. But what I love about it the most is that it is a rare example of a film that centers the friendship between a lesbian and a gay man. Why do films usually treat us like we exist in totally separate worlds? Anyway, it’s a joyous watch.

Tangerine (2015) Directed by Sean Baker

I’m obsessed with tightly plotted films and Tangerine doesn’t waste a frame. It’s 88 minutes of pure wit, charm and entertainment in line with the best of old-school Hollywood. You instantly forget that Baker’s film is shot on an iPhone and just get swept up in the extraordinary performances of Mya Taylor and Kitana Kiki Rodriguez. It’s such a mystery they don’t work more. (Reader: it’s not a mystery. It’s because they are Black trans women, and the industry is shit.)

Portrait of a Lady On Fire (2019) Directed by Céline Sciamma

We all bow at the alter of Céline Sciamma. This film is perfection. The sparse-but-powerful use of music, exquisite photography and extraordinary performances that burn beneath the stillness. The final shots of Adèle Haenel will feed your soul for a year. (Side note: face masks have never looked so stylish.)

Sunday Bloody Sunday (1971) Directed by John Schlesinger

This was John Schlesinger’s follow up to his best-known film, Midnight Cowboy. A middle-aged gay doctor (Peter Finch), and a divorced woman (Glenda Jackson), are both in an open love triangle with a younger, bisexual sculptor (Murray Head). It’s quite low-key and far tamer now than when it was released, but it’s a beautiful film and Schlesinger’s most personal. He was one of the few openly gay directors of his time. And Jackson’s performance steals it.

Far From Heaven (2002) Directed by Todd Haynes

Todd Haynes’ stunning film will make you immediately go out and discover all of Douglas Sirk’s glorious technicolor melodramas. Julianne Moore’s performance as a wife who discovers her husband is gay will break you. Dennis Quaid is also terrific as her closeted husband.

The Watermelon Woman (1996) Directed by Cheryl Dunye

Cheryl Dunye’s low-budget debut is a seminal queer film. A video store worker and documentarian (played by Dunye) starts a new relationship while becoming obsessed with ‘the watermelon woman’, a Black actress forgotten by history. It’s lo-fi, funny and a, far too rare, film about race and sexuality.

My Beautiful Laundrette (1985) Directed by Stephen Frears

It may have been the first time I saw gay characters on screen and, at the time, it petrified me. But what an amazing film about love, acceptance and the power to change. Fun fact: Daniel Day-Lewis spent a year as a tumble dryer in preparation for his role.

Beautiful Thing (1996) Directed by Hettie MacDonald

Hettie MacDonald’s coming-of-age film is so lovely, honest and tender. James Harvey adapted it from his own play of the same name. The soundtrack is almost entirely The Mamas and the Papas. I am surprised some cigar-smoking West-End mogul hasn’t attempted a musical adaptation. Or maybe they have, I don’t know.

Pride (2014) Directed by Matthew Warchus

Such a purely entertaining film while being urgent, political and deeply moving. Beresford’s script is a masterclass in plotting and if you don’t cry at the end then you are dead inside. Sorry but that’s just science. Also it has the most emotional postscript coda since, well, Paris is Burning.

Love is Strange (2014) Directed by Ira Sachs

Ira Sachs is one of my favorite current filmmakers and criminally underrated. I mean, he’s appreciated, but he needs to be lauded. Love is Strange is such a charming and quietly devastating love story about an older gay couple who lose their apartment and have to couch surf with relatives. It’s one of the most effective films in dealing with the rental crisis in big cities, something he does equally brilliantly in the follow-up, Little Men.

A Fantastic Woman (2017) Directed by Sebastián Lelio

Sebastián Lelio’s film is a beautiful story about one trans woman’s grief after the unexpected death of her older partner. But what makes this film so spectacular is the captivating performance by Daniela Vega. We need to see more of her on screen.

BPM (Beats per Minute) (2017) Directed by Robin Campillo

It’s a film about the AIDS activism of Act Up in 1990s Paris. What makes this so incredible is how joyous it is. Strobe-doused dance scenes punctuate this film that will make you want to take to the streets and fight for your rights.

The Queen of Ireland (2015) Directed by Conor Horgan

This documentary by Conor Horgan follows Ireland’s most famous drag queen, Panti Bliss (aka Rory O’Neill). It’s about his life, a legal battle (a bunch of homophobes sued Rory for calling them homophobes on national TV) and the staging of a show in his hometown. Central to all this is Ireland’s historic vote on marriage equality, something that Panti was a powerful figure in. If you want to laugh and have your heart soar in seeing confirmation of how a once painfully conservative country moved to love and equality, watch this.

The Kids Are All Right (2010) Directed by Lisa Cholodenko

Lisa Cholodenko’s feature is a warm, witty and realistic look at a lesbian couple and their children. Every performance is pitch perfect. I can’t believe it’s a decade old and that we have had so few similar films since.

Booksmart (2019) Directed by Olivia Wilde

We need more joyous films with queer leads and Olivia Wilde’s debut is just that. Set over one night of belated partying, we follow best friends Molly and Amy (Beanie Feldstein and Kaitlyn Dever), one of whom happens to be a lesbian. It is just so much fun to watch.

All About My Mother (1999) Directed by Pedro Almodóvar

I mean this list could just be an Almodóvar filmography, but All About My Mother just happened to be the first of his I saw and it blew my little gay mind. It’s simply about love in its truest sense. Almodóvar said it best with his dedication, “To all actresses who have played actresses. To all women who act. To men who act and become women. To all the people who want to be mothers. To my mother.”

Female Trouble (1974) Directed by John Waters

You can’t have a queer film list without John Waters, and this 1974 classic is my favorite of his. It follows Dawn Davenport (played by the legendary Divine) from teen delinquent to the electric chair. It’s hilarious, irreverent and distasteful in the ways only Waters can be.

Saint Maud (2019) Directed by Rose Glass

Rose Glass’s debut film isn’t out yet and so technically shouldn’t be on the list. But I saw at a festival last year and loved it, so there. It’s a horror film about a private nurse (rising star Morfydd Clark) who tries to save the soul of her deviant and lesbian patient (the always-brilliant Jennifer Ehle). It’s eerie, stylish and the sort of debut all us filmmakers wish we had. Shut up, you’re jealous!

Related content

MundoF’s Opening the Vault: a chronological history of queer interest and LGBTQ+ cinema.

Leonora’s list of Films by Transgender Writers and Directors.

Out of the Closets and Into the Cinemas!: meeting queer folks in dark rooms.

New Queer Cinema

Queer Films Everyone Must See

Queer, Black, 21st Century: A Pride 2020 List

Autostraddle’s Top 200 Lesbian, Bisexual & Queer Movies of All Time

Brianna’s list of LGBT+ Animation

#david freyne #dating amber #irish film #queer film #gay director #gay cinema #queer cinema #gay pride #pride month #lgbt #lgbtqia #trans film #trans filmmaker #john waters #todd haynes #paris is burning #jamie babbit #pedro almodovar #pawel pawlikowski #celine sciamma #sean baker #lisa cholodenko #wong kar-wai #francis lee #booksmart #letterboxd

[penguin-writes-books]

A Study in Fate - Chapter 7

Buffy was still shell-shocked in place when Lucy reappeared in front of her.

“C-coffee,” she explained, pointing to the machine.

“I- yeah, of course.” Buffy stepped out of the way. “You said you needed chocolate?”

“Yeah, I did,” Lucy confirmed, smiling at the girl beside her as she slid a five dollar bill into the machine. “TJ wanted it,” she added quickly.

“Okay, then.”

“I’m gonna go get that now,” Lucy stammered, stepping around Buffy and quickly rushing down the hall.

“Wait- Lucy!” Lucy spun on her heel, a confused look on her face. “What… was that?”

“Listen, Buffy. I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, stepping closer to her. “This is so going to sound like a card, but I just got out of a really messed up relationship back home. I think I really need some time on my own, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, seriously. Can I at least get your number?”

“I can do that,” Lucy agreed, holding out a hand for Buffy’s phone. She quickly typed in her number, sending herself a text message. She smiled slightly as she set her contact name to Lucy and handed it back.

“Thanks,” Buffy said, voice clearly several decibels quieter than before.

“Actually… I’ll do you one better.” Lucy pulled Buffy in for a careful, chaste kiss.

“Thank you. Again.”

“I should get back.” Lucy pulled her phone from her pocket to save Buffy’s number, tapping it against her palm. She started to turn away before second-guessing herself and facing Buffy again. “One more.”

“What?” Buffy asked, but Lucy was already moving in to kiss her for a third time.

“Now it’s my turn to thank you,” she said, winking at Buffy. With that, she marched back down the hallway, ponytail swinging behind her.

“Still didn’t get her chocolate,” Buffy grumbled, rounding a corner back into the waiting room.

“There you are!” her mom exclaimed, gesturing for her to come closer. “Where have you been?”

“In that hallway? With Lucy, remember?” Buffy said, glancing at Emily.

“It’s been like 15 minutes,” Pat pointed out. “Don’t know how to find coffee and chocolate in a hospital?”

“No, we found it pretty fast- the coffee, anyway. We never really got around to finding the chocolate.

“We… Ran into Cyrus?” she said slowly, praying they wouldn’t elaborate.

“Yes they did!” A voice rang out behind her, and then Cyrus was slinging an arm around her shoulder. “And we had a lovely conversation about… Boats?”

Note to self: Appreciate Cyrus more.

“Yes, boats,” Buffy said, going along with it to the best of her ability. “We got into a debate about where the Niña, Pinta, and Santa Maria landed.”

“Lucy was right,” Cyrus added.

“How does one get into a debate about boats?”

“Lucy… said something or other like ‘since the Niña, Pinta, and Santa Maria landed on Watling Island’...And we got into a debate.”

“About boats,” Pat said, clearly confused.

“About boats,” Cyrus confirmed.

“Boats,” Buffy repeated.

“And this is where I take my leave,” Emily said, chuckling. “I have to get Lucy and TJ home soon. I’ve been given a very sternly worded warning that visiting hours are ending about three times now.”

“Okay,” Buffy nodded. “Oh, and Emily? Amber’s going to be okay.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, smiling gently.

“I have to run to the restroom,” Pat said, standing up as Emily left. “I’ll be right back.”

“Alright.” Buffy watched her disappear in the opposite direction of Emily, before whirling around to face Cyrus. “Help.”

“With what?” he asked, eyes widening.

“I kissed a girl. Lucy. I kissed Lucy. Well, Lucy kissed me. I don’t even know if that matters. Just- we kissed.”

“You kissed?!”

“Three times.”

“Way to bury the lead!” Cyrus exclaimed.

“What are you talking about? I told you flat out that I kissed her!”

“Not three times,” he pointed out.

“What does that matter?”

“Three times means it meant something.”

“By what rule?”

“Come on, Buff. One could be a fluke, two is a question, three means something.” Cyrus swatted her arm like he was disappointed she didn’t understand.

“What kind of 8-year-old girl code bullshit is that?”

“8-year-old girl code? Wouldn't it just be girl code? Does girl code change?”

“Well yeah,” Buffy said, rolling her eyes. “When you're little it's like ‘don't date your best friend's exes’. And then you grow up and suddenly it's like ‘if you walk into a party together you walk out together’ and ‘if you're drunk I'm not leaving your side until I get your wasted ass home’.”

“...Huh. But wouldn’t the three kiss rule transcend years?”

“It’s not even a rule!” Buffy protested. “This isn’t baseball, Cyrus. You don’t get three strikes at kissing. Sometimes they matter, sometimes they don’t. Number doesn’t matter. Three kisses didn’t matter in my case.”

“Okay, then.”

They were quiet for a few moments before Cyrus turned to face her.

“Just- one more thing?”

“What, Cyrus?”

“Did you… want it to mean something?” he asked gingerly. “Please don’t kill me or anything, but… You just seem a little shaken up over this. Are you maybe… Do you maybe… have feelings for her?”

“No, of course not. Well, yes. No. Yes? I don’t know yet. Maybe.” Buffy’s eyebrows furrowed as she buried her face in her hands. “I don’t even know if I like girls to begin with, Cy. How am I supposed to figure this out?”

“Hey, hey. Take a deep breath. Do you want to tackle this now? Or would you rather I leave it alone?”

“I want to face this. Not here though, somewhere… private? I don’t know how that’s gonna work out in a hospital…” Buffy looked around nervously, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Would it be weird to do this in the chapel?” Cyrus asked. “It’s private, and it’s that or the bathroom.”

“Yeah, no. We’re just gonna step outside. I’m not gonna kick someone out of the chapel, Cy. They’re probably like, praying for their family. I’m not about to interrupt that for a sexuality crisis.”

“I respect that. Let’s go get some air, yeah?” Buffy nodded, quickly texting her mom and following Cyrus outside. The second they sat down, though, Buffy’s heart started racing, hands trembling against the cool metal of the bench she was sitting on. “Hey, what’s going on, Buff?”

“I don’t- I don’t get it, Cy. Why can’t I just figure all of this out? One second I’m trying to figure out how I feel about Marty, and the next fucking Lucy Kippen waltzes in and changes goddamn everything.”

“Hey hey hey. Let’s start somewhere a little simpler. Do you have feelings for Marty?”

“...No. I don’t.”

“Okay, do you have feelings for boys at all?” Cyrus prodded carefully.

“I don’t- I don’t think so. It’s like- when I was growing up, and imagining my future, it was always with this nameless shadowy guy, because I thought it was supposed to be? But now, I just can’t see myself ever loving a guy, or being with a guy, or marrying one, or any of it.”

“I get it, Buffy. I’ve been there. Like quite literally right there. Except the opposite. Girls, not boys. Or maybe… Boys, not girls?”

“I get the point, dork,” Buffy teased, knocking her shoulder into Cyrus’s.

“Are you… Do you think that maybe you like girls?” Buffy was quiet for a moment, periodically opening and closing her mouth.

“I think that… all of this cliché coming out stuff is kind of overrated for now. I guess I’m a lesbian, or whatever… But for now… I think that maybe all I want is Lucy?”

“Lucy?” Cyrus asked, voice soft.

“Lucy.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Buffy agreed.

“I love you, Buffy. Always.”

“And forever,” she continued, smiling at the habit.

“All the way to Mercury.”

“And all the way back.”

“Until all the stars burn out,” Cyrus promised.

“Until my dying breath,” a voice from behind them finished. “Sorry I’m late to the party.”

“Andi,” Buffy breathed, tumbling around the edge of the bench she and Cyrus were sitting on to hug her.

“So you’re gay, huh?” Andi mumbled into her shoulder. “And you got into a car accident?”

“Yeah,” Buffy laughed, pulling away and grinning at her best friend.  “And yes. But I’m totally okay.”

“And you like Lucy?” Andi continued, smiling.

“I- I don’t- holy shit, I can’t like Lucy. She slapped me on the first day we met! We got into a car accident together. She kissed me three times- What the hell am I doing?”

“Hey, calm down, Buffy,” Andi whispered. “I have many many questions, but you’re okay.  You’re not the type to panic over anyone. Take a deep breath, and face the music. You like a girl, who no doubt likes you-”

“Why do you think that?”

“Hello? Three kisses?” Andi said.

“What kind of rule is this?!”

“A universal one.”

“Okay, ignoring that… There’s no way she likes me like that.”

“What’d she say after she kissed you?” Andi asked, crossing her arms.

“Um… she said she shouldn’t do this right now, that she’d just gotten out of a really awful relationship and apologized for that sounding like a card. She gave me her number, kissed me a second time, thanked me, started to leave, turned around, kissed me again, and I haven’t seen her since.”

“So she thanks you for a kiss, and you don’t think she likes you?” Cyrus asked.

“It’s was like an inside joke situation- holy shit. Fuck, I have to find her.” Buffy jogged toward the doors they’d come out of, frantically pulling them open and rushing through.

“What? What’s going on?” Andi asked, looking to Cyrus, who simply shrugged.

“I dunno man, she’s been like that all day,” he said, casually making his way to the door. “Lovesick lesbian mode is in full swing.”

#a study in fate fic #luffy andi mack #lucy kippen #tj kippen #amber kippen #cyrus goodman #buffy driscoll #Andi Mack #emily kippen #tyrus #ambi

[descendantofthesparrow]

The daughter of the honorable thief- Harry Hook x Reader- part 1

 Harry Hook x Daughter of Robin Hood!Reader

warning: offensive slurs

key

 h/c- hair color

 e/c- eye color

 h/l- hair length

 s/c- skin color

 y/n- your name

clothing reference:

harrys auradon look for this part

your gear for this part(when Harry can see you properly)

your hair (length and color doesn't matter its just a reference)

___________________________________

-Harry Hook POV-

It’s been 2 weeks since I've left the Isle to come to boradon, and it's …so so, most people here don’t think my friends and I belong a *cough* Audrey and Chad *cough* so they kept trying to get us in trouble. Like trying to get us to fight them, as it’s a threat that if we get into a fight we’ll get sent back. Weirdly enough, Peter Pan’s son, David, and the next gen Darling kids seemed to not care who was my dad, HELL! Even Wendy herself had decided to ignore my last name and basically adopt me. I’m not kidding! She sends me fucking cookies and shit!!! She invited me for brunch!!!

(and now we return to our regularly scheduled program)

Grabbing my math book and stuffing it in my bag, I sighed to myself and closed my locker, heading out to class.

‘never thought I’d be going to math class, hell on the isle I couldn’t count! I-‘

My thoughts were interrupted as I was slammed into the lockers beside me, turning I glared at the banes of my existence.

The descendants of the lost boys, five of the group of 10 grinning at me with malicious intent

“hey Hook!”

Glaring at them I tried to walk away, breathing deeply as to keep my temper in check.

“come on! we wanna play a game!” Calvin, the son of slightly, grabbed my flannel and threw me to the floor, my head smacking on the floor and black started to edge in my vision, my hearing also beginning to fade out.

‘godamit I can't fight back’

But they didn’t care, they simply just started to beat down on me, hitting my ribs and one kicking my face, pain exploded everywhere.

‘someone, make it stop, please!’

“HA HA! Come on get up Hook! I thought you were tougher than your dad! HAHA!”

“HEY, GET AWAY FROM HIM”

“SHIT ITS-“

The only thing I heard was skin hitting skin, and the yelps of the lost boys. Soon five sets of footsteps ran off and I felt a hand press to my cheek, I softly hissed in pain, and the new person yelled for somebody to get another person. I felt someone pick me up, then I passed out.

---

I could see a light behind my eyelids, moaning in pain as I felt the bruising on my face and ribs, soon I heard someone shuffling over to me

“Mr. Hook? Are you awake?” groaning and nodding my head I slowly opened my eyes, a woman with auburn hair in a bun, wearing a school nurse uniform, stood by the bed, staring at him with worry in her eyes.

“Mr. Hook? Are you feeling alright?” nodding my head I sat up and rubbed my head, feeling a bump at the back of my head.

“what happened?”

“you were apparently assaulted by some of the lost boys and Ms. Loxley brought you here after fending them off.”

I furrowed my brows and asked her who Ms. Loxley was “Ms. Loxley is (y/n) Loxley, daughter of Robin Hood”

I nodded and asked if I could leave the nurses office.

“in a minute, I just need to give you an examination and some medication and then your free to go, oh also your excused from classes for the rest of the week.”

I placed my feet on the ground and stood as she shuffled around the medical room grabbing medication and other stuff

“okay this is for your head and this is for everything else, take both once a day”

“aye, by the way, were is Loxley? I want to…um”

The nurse smiled and informed me that she was at the archery range “do you know where that is Mr. Hook?”

“uh no”

“okay one second”

She walked to the door and looked out and gestured for someone to come

“Mr. De’vil? Can you lead Mr. Hook to the archery range? He would like to see Ms. Loxley”

Carlos looked at me for a second a glint of fear in his eyes before it disappeared after seeing my bruises.

“uh yeah sure come on Harry”

I grabbed my bag that was resting on a nearby chair and followed Carlos (and dude) out the medical room and walked silently behind him, keeping my gaze in front of me, seeing Carlos glancing at me in concern.

He bit his lip before gaining the courage to talk to me, “so what happened? Why were you in the medical room?”

I raised an eyebrow at him before answering “Calvin and his cronies decided I was an easy target cuz of that stupid “vks cant fight” rule” Carlos Hummed in agreement “yeah Jay hates that rule too, he says it deprives him of the honor of kicking the dudes who insult the VKS asses”

That’s when dude decided to speak “yeah mal hates it too, she has almost snapped many times, but Ben holds her back” I blinked in surprise, I honestly forgot the dog could talk.

“I forgot yer dog could talk.” Carlos snickered, “yeah that surprises people still, it’s really funny when dude does it randomly”

I hummed and saw the archery range, I sped up a little, Carlos keeping up. “ya know, ever since you got to Auradon, you have gotten a lot less scary” I rolled my eyes, I know why.

“Maybe it’s because I can't do anything, I used to be able to do on the isle hmm~?” I pointed out, slightly glaring at the son of Cruella.

“yeah I guess” he mumbled, curling back slightly under my glare. I rolled my eyes (I seem to be doing that a lot) and turned my sight back to the archery range where I saw a female figure walking across the field, carefully aiming at each target, and hitting them with absolute precision.

“whoa” the three of us breathed, never seen anything like that before. She took notice of us staring and made her way towards us, doing her hood to reveal her face, smooth (s/c),(plump/thin) cherry lips, athletic body, (h/l) (h/c) hair messy and framing her face perfectly, those piercing (e/c) eyes staring at me once again, that’s when I realized, this was the girl I saw the day I came!

‘dang she’s actually really pretty’

“hello,” she grinned “what brings you three down here?” I don’t waste any time, “are ye the one who thrashed the lost boys?” a proud glint came to her eyes and she confirmed that yes, she was the one who saved me.

“oh well.. um... I…” dammit why was it so hard to say thanks! She giggled and waved me off “you’re welcome Harry! Are you alright by the way?”

“uh yeah, the nurse gave me painkillers and stuff”

“that’s good”

Carlos stood awkwardly before picking up dude, announcing that he was going to head to his dorm.

“see ya Carlos!”

“see ya (y/n)”

Harry only waved and turned back to you.

As Carlos left the two of you talked and Harry walked with you as you retrieved your arrows, soon you both heard the dreaded sound of other people, Chad and his ‘‘friends” walked around the edge of the range, laughing obnoxiously to themselves.

Chad looked around, saw you and Harry and turned to his “friends” and gestured to the two of you, the boys grinned maliciously and headed towards you.

“hey look” both you and Harry groaned, turning to look at the son of Cinderella, “it’s the dyke and the fag!”

Harry gritted his teeth, and your glare became deadly. You facepalmed at the use of the slurs, Chad was so narrow-minded.

“go away Chad!” he smirked “no I don’t think I will~”

Harry mumbled to you “why’d he call ye a dyke?”

“I've dated a few girls in my life so he decided I was lesbian cuz I haven’t dated a boy”

“ah” “Why'd he call you a fag?”

“im a pirate, it's kinda the stereotype that goes with it”

“got ya”

“you two fags done talking?”

Harry was really close to punching Chad, but he couldn’t cuz of that stupid rule. You glanced at Harry  knowing he couldn’t do anything, but you could, drawing three arrows you lined them up and glanced at chad, he froze like deer in headlights, knowing your skill, his “friends” started giggling

“come on girly!”

“yeah we all know archery is a man's sport”

“Yeah, I bet you can't even draw the string!”

Keeping your breath calm you spoke in a deadly voice, shocking Harry.

“you all have three seconds to leave and stop bothering us before I do something you'll regret”

“hahaha is she serious!”

“one”

“id love to see this!”

“two”

“shoot shoot!”

“three”

Drawing the string back you aimed at Chad, releasing the arrows pierced Chad's shirt and pants and pinned him to a nearby tree, Causing his “friends” to shut up, never having seen something like that before.

Harry jaw dropped open ‘holy crap shes good!’ you smirked and drew another arrow, the group reeling back in fear

“I warned you~” you sang,”now leave! And take charming there with you” the idiots nodded, unpinned Chad and bolted for the school.

You and Harry stood there for a moments before bursting out laughing

“that” Harry gasped “was amazing!”

You giggled and retrieved your arrows “thanks!! That was really fun!”

*briiidng*

Hearing the bell ring, you packed up and started to make your way to your dorm “hey! Were ye going?”

“my dorm, the bell rung, my free periods over so I gotta get to class, you should get going as well”

“Oh okay” waving to harry you exited the range before Harry called after you “(y/n)!” turning to harry you saw his face flush, “um,…thank you”

You grinned at him “you’re welcome Harry”

The two of you went your own way, Harry to his dorm to rest, you to your dorm to put your gear away.

Only one thought rested in your minds

‘why is she so kind to someone like me?’

‘who knew the son of Hook could be so handsome’

 --end of part 1-- if part 2 is wanted, please comment or message me.

@lunarwitch6 @holythingdragonpaper sorry this took so long

#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harryhook #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook imagine #harry hook x reader #x reader #disney #daughter of robin hood

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTE: HAPPY NANOWRIMO! Sorry if my updates are more sporadic right now; I'm trying to focus on writing this month. That includes (minor spoiler) another Persona fic! I promise in December I will try to resume a more regular posting schedule. 

Also: if you're enjoying this fic or any of my others, and you have disposable income, you can drop a few dollars in my tip jar! Every little bit helps! Anyway, happy reading!

CHAPTER NINE

                                                   ~ x The Priestess x ~

Things settled down until Monday afternoon. Mostly, I hung out with my friends and tried to focus on my studies. And everything had been fine. There were other girls around the school I kept glancing at, trying to figure out my feelings, and I didn't feel any "lesbian stirrings" - if that's even a thing. Just looked like regular people. So I started to convince myself that it had been a fluke, and I only felt those urges because Miss Kawakami had been so sensual with me in the hotel room. Everything was going to be fine.

Then I saw her in the hallway again and it shot all of my hopes to hell.

"Good afternoon, Niijima-san," she said with a smile as she waved. And I felt my knees go weak, my heart speed up in my chest. She was completely back to her usual self: longsleeve yellow scoopneck, denim skirt, sensible white low-heels, fluffy brown hair. Armload of books and lesson plans. Tired-but-cheerful expression.

Just Miss Kawakami, being Miss Kawakami… but she still made me want to do things I had never done before. And wouldn't know how. Experiment with her.

"Niijima-san?"

"G-good morning," I managed to stutter.

"It's not morning," she chuckled. But she peered at my face for a moment. "You… should request me again."

"Huh?!" But when she held a finger to her lips, I quickly said, "Right. Sorry."

"You should. Because it looks like… you need to talk. But not here." Her eyes flicked from side to side, indicating the throng of students surrounding us.

"Of course. I'm sorry, I really… yes. I'll ask you about that homework later."

Her gorgeous mocha eyes did roll toward the ceiling at my poor attempt at covering, but at least she was still smiling. I wished she would always smile…

"Of course. Friday."

"Friday?"

"Or Saturday. I'll let you know if another time works equally well."

"OH!" She was trying to tell me her schedule. "Y-yes, I'll hand it in by then, if I don't have any questions sooner. Thank you."

When I bowed slightly, she patted my shoulder. "Good, good, Run along to class." Then she walked away…

And I did something I have never, ever done. For anybody, no matter who they were, or how attractive I might have found them - though I almost never notice that kind of thing. I turned to watch her leave. Not because I liked her and missed her, or because she was a decent role model. Those things were also true… but for some reason, I wanted to see her calves moving below the hem of that skirt.

The bell for class rang and I was still standing there, staring at the spot where her calves had last been. At least that finally prompted me to move again.

                                                  ~ o ~

The rest of the week turned out to be my own personal Hell. Every time I saw Miss Kawakami, she looked better and better, and my thoughts were less pure. Maybe it was because I had never thought about anyone in this way that I fell so headlong into lust. Or maybe she was just exactly my type and I didn't know it before Hotel Juliet revealed all.

Dreams of her cleavage in that maid outfit when she crawled across the floor toward me, her stockings recently discarded, filled my nights. Or of her shapely thighs disappearing up her frilly French Victorian dress. Worse - disappearing up the hem of her robe as she writhed under my touch, panting my name with her eyes closed…

Recalling that also gave me another new experience: trying to focus in class while being aroused. I'm not kidding when I say that not once in my entire academic career had that been a stumbling block for me. Now, my thighs twitched, my face flushed, until a neighbouring student asked if I was feeling under the weather. That only made my blush worse.

When Thursday rolled around, I was at the end of my rope. I had basically called Ann in complete distress about six times in three days. She was great at talking me down, but had no real advice to give - which was okay. It would be kind of an insane convenience if she somehow knew exactly what to do about developing a lesbian crush on a teacher, wouldn't it?

"Look," she sighed into the phone as she did her nails, and I slowly tried to finish formatting a report. "She said you can request her tomorrow night, right? So just… don't worry about it until then. Forget about her totally. Like, since you can't do anything."

"That doesn't work. Believe me, I try."

"God, you're so cute. I know, I know - not helping."

"It isn't cute that I'm so smitten with a woman out of my reach that I can't eat, or sleep, or study. Those are basically the only things I do, Ann."

A little laugh floated over the phone lines. "Yeah. I mean, until you started hanging out with us, I'd believe it. Except maybe kissing Principal Kobayakawa's-"

"Don't even finish that sentence," I warned her, and she laughed more.

"Fiiiiine. And I'm gonna offer again; I know you don't wanna reveal her secret. But if you need me there, to mediate or whatever, like, call me. Swear I won't show up without you asking, but all you gotta do is call."

"And you'll be here. I know, and thank you. But this is something I should be able to do on my own."

"Why? You've got friends; use 'em."

I had been about to protest and tell her I didn't want to 'use' my friends… when I realised that I could. Not Ann; she was already being enough help as it was. But there was someone else I should be going to about this matter.

"Thanks, Ann," I said suddenly, sitting up and closing my textbook. "I think I have an idea. I'll call you back when I have put it into practice."

"Huh? O-oh, okay, bye. Good luck!"

"Thank you. I'm gonna need it."

                                                  ~ o ~

Cafe Leblanc was basically closing up by the time I got there. Futaba Sakura was lingering at the counter, and the proprietor, Sojiro Sakura, was wiping down the counter. Ren was doing the dishes; sometimes the old man roped him into that, considering he was letting him stay in the attic rent-free.

"Hey," I greeted Futaba first. Not that I could see much of a reaction. Her huge glasses and orange hair covered most of her face and head, as if they were a protective shield from the rest of the world. Which was likely true; she's the biggest introvert I've ever known.

"Guten abend."

"Huh?"

"German." Pushing up her glasses, she peered up at me with those oddly mauve-tinted eyes. "You are here to see Ren."

"How do you know that?"

"Keep glancing at him. Not exactly rocket science - though rocket science is actually fairly simple and straightforward. Just gotta know the formulas."

Chuckling softly as I slid onto a stool at the bar, I said, "Uhhh, I'm going to have to take your word for it, I guess. But you're correct."

"He'll be free in a few minutes," her adoptive father said as he tossed the rag under the counter, then perched a cigarette just above his goatee. As he flicked the lighter, he said, "Can I get you anything, Niijima-san?"

"Oh, no thank you," I said with a slight bow. The cigarette smoke bothered me, but I would never dream of mentioning that. "You're already closing up; it would be rude."

"Nonsense. I've got some leftover curry ingredients in the fridge; you kids could go upstairs while I whip some up."

"You do not wanna miss his recipe," Futaba confided as she typed on her phone at lightspeed. The screen was flashing so fast I couldn't even keep up with what she was doing. "Mom's recipe. Their recipe."

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it," her surrogate father chuckled good-naturedly as he puffed, turning back toward the kitchen. "Amamiya-kun. Take five and see your friend; I'm going to make you something."

"And I'll help," Futaba volunteered with a smile, pocketing her phone.

Ren nodded at him, barely glancing at me before drying off his hands and abandoning the dishes for now. Then he nodded toward the stairs and we went up together. Futaba made no move to abandon her place at Sojiro's side - proving that she really did accurately guess I wanted to talk to Ren alone. What a little genius.

Once upstairs in his cozy little loft, I dropped onto the old couch and wasted no time telling him everything. Ren eventually sank down beside me, expression slightly pained but mostly resigned. As if he knew this day would come, but couldn't be sure which friend - or maybe stranger - would approach him about it.

"So I know you've been having her run errands," I wrapped up with. "But she insisted that you aren't hurting her, and she isn't hurting you. I guess… I feel like I believe you, but I need to hear it. What is the nature of the relationship with Miss Kawakami?"

Guess I really do sound like you sometimes, Sae.

"We don't have one," he answered after a pause to mull over his words. "She's my homeroom teacher."

"And the maid stuff? You really do request her just to… what, give her free money?"

Another pause. "She does jobs for me. Makes curry, cleans up, does laundry. I pay her for the work. But I request her more often because I understand she needs the money; it's the only official way I can help her without…"

"Without?" I prompted.

"Without it being charity."

"Ohhh…" My eyes turned sad as I looked down at the floor. "Miss Kawakami wouldn't accept any handouts, probably. That makes sense." He nodded. "You're sure you've never… a 'health massage' or-"

"No."

"Would you want to?" At that, he looked a little uncomfortable. "Ren?"

"Maybe. But not that way; not because I paid her. It would feel like forcing her into it. And though Miss Kawakami is beautiful, I don't have strong feelings like that for her."

"All of that's very fair," I sighed, staring down at my plain black shoes. "That's how I felt, too; the 'forcing her' part, I mean." He made no reply, so I looked up at him. "You don't even care about… that part of this. That I might be attracted to her, even though I'm a girl." He shook his head. "Why not?"

His shoulders rose and fell. "That's your business."

"So simple for you," I chuckled softly, eyes sad. "But I feel like… a freak. A circus freak for seeing a woman old enough to be my mother in the hallway - well, almost old enough - and wanting to do things with her I've never even dreamed about before."

Ren's only response was to sit back a little, folding his arms and crossing one leg so the ankle rested on his knee. I watched him for a moment, squinting at his passive, thoughtful expression.

"What? What is it?"

"I may have somewhere you should visit. Come with me."

"Now? But it's so late - and we'll miss Sojiro's curry."

His smile was small and coy. "Very well. Curry and then come with me. It's important."

That word could not be ignored. He didn't just think this was a good idea, he thought it was "important"? And Ren was a fairly serious guy; he didn't just spout off things like that for no reason. I trusted him. Therefore, I nodded.

"Curry, and then I'll go with you. It's a promise." And we shook on it, like we were making a business deal.

                                                  ~ o ~

Once our bellies were full of delicious curry, my taste buds still singing at the spices and mingling flavours, I hopped the train with him up to Shinjuku. That was a surprise; I didn't even know Ren knew anyone up that way, or ever went there. Maybe I didn't know him as well as I thought, but I opted to put my faith in him for the time being.

Within minutes, we were walking into a bar called "Crossroads". The place was pretty empty, except for a young woman with a pink fanny pack slumped over at the bar, and an older woman with an ornate kimono behind it cleaning glasses.

"You spend way too much time here, young man," she said - and my eyebrows shot up. That was a pretty deep voice. Was she… a he? A cross-dresser?

"Lala-san, this is my friend, Makoto Niijima. Makoto, this is Lala Escargot."

I bowed slightly, trying to hide my surprise from before. "It's a p-pleasure to meet you, Lala. Escargot… is French, right?"

"Sure, honey," she chuckled with a big grin. "French is so fancy. Why do you think I picked it?"

"Picked…?" I swallowed hard, then moved to sit at the bar in front of her. "Forgive me for asking something very forward. But are you… transgender, or a drag queen? I don't want to assume."

While Ren looked a little surprised, Lala grinned. "Just a queen, girl. When I ain't on the clock, this all comes off and I'm a regular run-of-the-mill man. Well… maybe not run-of-the-mill."

"No, I am sure you're very unique." Luckily, 'she' seemed to take that as a compliment. "Should I keep using female pronouns while you're Lala, then?"

"Yes, please." A little bow to show her gratitude, and I bowed back. "What brings ya taggin' along with this no-good louse?" Then she chuckled and hid her face behind an elegant white fan. "Just kidding, Amamiya-chan. You know me."

"Of course," he laughed with an easy smile. Not at all flustered or annoyed by her teasing.

"Well… I actually don't know." After a few seconds to consider, I just blurted out, "I think I might be gay."

"Oh yeah? Good for you, honey!"

"Thanks?" I laughed self-consciously. "But I have a feeling Ren thought it might be a good idea to talk to you about it. And maybe he's right; I really don't know what I'm doing, or feeling, or thinking, and… this isn't exactly my first contact with, um, 'the community', but none of my friends are gay. So I'm a little unsure of where to turn."

Her smirk was playful. "That you know of. I mean, just saying, Ren does hang out with a drag queen an awful lot for a straight boy."

"I work here, Lala," he sighed with a roll of his eyes. But she only laughed in response.

"But why here? Hmmmmm? So many after-school jobs, and here you are in Shinjuku. Just saying…"

Interrupting her further teasing, I asked, "So what do I do? How do I know? Especially because I have a crush on a teacher, not another student, so it's…"

"Ooooh, damn," she intonated, heavily-shaded eyes widening. "That is a pickle, sister. How old are ya?"

"Huh? Oh… eighteen."

"Awww, you're almost outta there. Just hang on and then ask her out when you're in college."

Drawing my knees together and folding my hands on the bartop, I whispered, "That's what Ann said. You make it sound so simple. I don't even know if what I'm feeling is real, or-"

"It's real."

Stunned by the firmness in her voice, I asked, "How can you be so sure?"

"If you're worried enough about it to follow your friend to some dive bar in Shinjuku, you're feeling real things, baby," she pressed with a sympathetic sigh. "Maybe you get a few years further along in life, and it turns out you ain't a lesbian, or maybe you are. But right now, for you, in this moment, you wanna be with a woman. Don't second-guess yourself or waste a lot of time thinking you're 'crazy'. Take Ohya there."

With a start, the other woman shot upright, eyes unfocused and sunglasses askew. "Huh? Wh-wha…? I'll pay my tab next week…"

"Poor thing was in love with this old colleague of hers," Lala went on as Ohya slumped back downward, clearly not even listening. "Completely oblivious until it was too late; she's still in denial about it. Now Kaya's out of her life and she ain't got nobody. Think she still likes men, but when's the last time I saw her on a serious date with any of 'em?"

My eyes widened. "Oh. She's a lesbian, too?"

"Bisexual," Lala corrected. "Probably, anyway."

"Right, right; like you said, she still dates men." I watched her snore for a few seconds, then cleared my throat. "I guess… it's different, meeting a woman who likes women in person. Not that I doubted their existence."

The drag queen shrugged as she poured me a tonic with lemon; something light and non-alcoholic, but still being courteous. "We get a lot of people like you wandering in. Girls or boys who ain't sure what they want outta life, or outta relationships. Some of these places around Shinjuku will really turn your brain upside-down if you let 'em, but… most of us just wanna help family."

"Family?" After a second of flashbacks to dead parents and my stubborn sister, I got it. "Right. That's me; I'm 'family' now. But what if I try dating a woman and decide I like men? Isn't that… wrong, somehow?"

"What's wrong with experimenting and figuring out what you like?"

"Well, when you put it that way… I feel stupid," I ended up saying, and she chuckled.

"Don't, honey. Nothin' stupid about not knowing where you wanna end up in life. Just take your time, figure it out. Come back here if you got questions; maybe Ichiko'll be sober enough to answer 'em next time."

"Hey, I'm not that drunk," the woman muttered without lifting her head or opening her eyes. "Sober enough to see Ren-kun brought another cutie with him. You're the drunk one, Lala-chan… not me."

Another cutie? Did she mean me?!

"You're the horizontal one," Lala mocked back, and Ohya did smile slightly. But she still didn't get up.

And now I found myself really looking at her. If I'm being brutally honest, I don't know why I had such a strong image in my mind that a woman who likes women would be some kind of freak. Probably had something to do with societal brainwashing. But here was this Ichiko, very normal other than the fact that she was drunk. Bobbed black hair, blue jeans and sneakers. Very pretty in the same way Miss Kawakami was pretty: a little older but taking good care of herself, other than the drinking which probably had the same amount of detrimental effect on her as the lack of sleep did on my teacher.

"Maybe," I breathed quietly to myself before taking a sip of the tonic water. It was actually pretty refreshing.

"What's that, honey?"

"Nothing, nevermind. Just thinking to myself."

"Questioning?"

For some reason, she was smirking at me again. I had the feeling her comment meant more to her than it did to me, but I decided not to ask about it. "Anyway, your friend looks like she's not getting up anytime soon, so maybe I should go. Thanks for this, Lala - and you, too, Ren. Helped me a lot more than I can be sure of just yet, I'm sure."

Ren nodded with a small smile as he took his place behind the bar. Lala came over to stand next to him. "Ohhhh, you're up for a shift, huh? Good, good. And let me know if you ever change your mind about me dressing you up."

Feeling second-hand embarrassment for Ren felt like reason enough to quickly and quietly take my leave. Besides, now I had an awful lot to think about.

                                                  To Be Continued…

#Queen Of Temperance #forkanna writes #persona 5 fanfiction #p5 fanfic #jess the writer #persona

[heyyyyadora]

phew I finally got @glimadora-week day 7 (AU) done!!! i really enjoyed it overall and tysm to the organisers for sharing all this great stuff!!!

my last one ended up a bit rushed but the idea was cute enough so. just gonna throw it out there, i was just way too busy over christmas to do it properly and figured it was better finished than trying to sweat over it longer than i needed to uvu

It’s 3am.

Glimmer is drunk.

Glimmer is sad.

Glimmer is so, so hungry.

It’s a recipe for disaster of the best kind.

She’s not sure exactly how it happened. The phone seemed to work by itself. She’s sure she never consented to calling up the new pizza place, there’s food in the kitchen and not enough money in her wallet, her hands betrayed her, but before she knows it she’s staring at the online tracker watching the little blip move from street to street, gradually getting closer and closer…

YOUR RIDER IS: ADORA

Adora. A-dor-a. Adore-ya. A door, ah! She giggles on the couch and promptly drops the phone on her face. What a cute name. Adora. My heaven-sent pizza saviour. My cheese-topped goddess. Adoraaaaaaaa.

When the doorbell rings she’s on the floor. She jumps up immediately and hits her head on the edge of the table. She yells something unprintable. She stubs her toe running to the hallway. Take a breath, Glimmer, you have to look somewhat presentable for the lady. Also, cash, cash, cash, where are you cash…

She stumbles the last few paces to the front door, props herself up on the frame. One last breath. She opens the door.

“Hiiiii-”

Her soul leaves her body.

“Damn, that’s a tough trip, you think you can handle it?”

“You wanna put a bet on it?”

“Hell no. Definitely.”

“Five bucks says I make it in ten.”

“Screw you. I’m in.”

Adora grinned, and did finger pistols on her way out the door before pulling her helmet on and in seconds was in the saddle, pedalling like her life depended on it though it was mostly her honour at stake.

She wasn’t rider of the month for nothing, though Catra was most of her motivation – she couldn’t resist the girl’s dares and wagers and sometimes just plain old taunts. But also she was just a damn good rider. She dodged and weaved between traffic effortlessly, not pausing even to offer a flipped bird in response to honked horns and flashed lights. She was at a full-on sprint for most of the way, even when she hit the hill.

Brightmoon hill. Bane of delivery riders everywhere.

Her colleagues cursed its name, but she thrived on the challenge. Her teeth were gritted in determination as she hit it in third gear, her heart thumping in her ears with each turn of the wheel. She pictured Catra back in the restaurant, staring at her watch with that smirk she just hatedwiping off her face.

She was there in eight minutes thirty-three seconds and her shirt was sticking to her back, her face glistened with a fresh layer of sweat. The pizza box was still piping hot.

Gleefully she rang the bell with the most genuine of cheery grins plastered over her face. She heard… something unrepeatable from within. That was a reaction. Seconds passed. There were signs of movement but it was a full minute before the door finally opened, revealing a dishevelled-looking, pink-haired girl doing her utmost to stay upright while offering a wonky grin.

“Hiiiiii!”

She seemed to get lost after that. Adora tried her best not to laugh. This was not her first “It’s 3am and I’m wasted” delivery and it sure wouldn’t be her last.

“Hi!” She waited for a response but none was coming fast. Smoothly she prompted, “Pizza!”

“Pizza!” was the reply, with a nod. Yes, pizza. Pizza good!

“Twelve dollars!” Small sentences. Small sentences worked best at 3am.

“Twelve… dollars!”

Ah, communication was wonderful.

A handful of paper bills were held out her way and Adora exchanged them for the pizza box before counting them out. She paused at the end, smiling.

“This is twenty!”

She got a blank stare. Adora waved the cash in the girl’s face slowly. “Twenty… dollars!”

“Oh! Keep it!”

“Tip? Thank you!”

“Thank you, angel!”

“…Sorry?”

The door slammed shut in her face.

Oh my god I called her an angel.

“Oh my god, she called me an angel.”

Catra’s laughter rang out heartily from the phone speaker.

“Hey Adora, you’re up.”

“No worries, boss- huh. This address is familiar.”

“Bow, that’s a terrible idea!”

“No, it’s a great idea!”

“…It’s an okay idea.”

Glimmer put her hands on her face. “Mermista you are supposed to be on my side with this.”

“What. I’m hungry, okay.”

“Then how about we order literally anything other than pizza from any other place in town.”

“I want pizza.”

Mermista shrugged nonchalantly but the corner of her mouth betrayed the slightest of smirks.

“No no nonononono if it’s her again I will literally die- BOW PUT THE PHONE DOWN.”

“Hiiiii, yeah we’d like three large pizzas, one plain, one seafood specia-AAAA MERMISTA HELP”

Mermista coolly reached over to take the handset as Bow wrestled with an enraged Glimmer now grappling on his front, her height immediately making her all but impervious to a similar attack. Without missing a beat she went on, “Yeah one seafood special and one spicy vegetarian to 120 Brightmoon Hill. Yeah. Uh-huh. Thanks.”

“MERMISTA NO-”

“Sorry Glimmer, this is for lesbian Jesus.” Mermista tossed the handset back to her and reclaimed her seat, legs kicking over the side.

Ten minutes later and Adora was once again glowing, caked in sweat and pulling up to the front of the house. She double checked the address. Double checked the house front. Yep, this was the one alright. She sniggered to herself as she picked up the precious payload, the three boxes stacked on one hand as she rang the doorbell.

She was answered, to her surprise, not by a pink-haired little cutie but by a taller, blue-haired, still definitely pretty girl but more a sort of “Chaotic hot” than a “Chaotic cute”.

The girl said, “Oh.” That was new. Her eyes bulged out and she seemed to trip over her words which immediately broke that cool hot ice-queen aesthetic she had going. Quickly she called back, “Uhh, Glimmer! Pizza’s here.”

Adora waited. The pizza steamed in her hand. She simply put a hand on her hip and smirked.

A minute or so later a familiar face returned, much more sober-looking than before. ‘Glimmer’, huh? Glimmer again stammered, her face flushed up. “Ah- hello! You’re… pizza! Right?”

“Right! You got friends over, huh?”

“Y-yeah, well, it was their idea to get pizza… I mean, not that I didn’t not want pizza! From you, that is, you did… good pizza! Last time.” Adora’s grin widened and the girl balked. “Aaaahhh forget last time! I was, uh, really, you know,”

“Drunk?”

“Yeah! I mean, uh, not that I wasn’t- just because I was drunk, you know, doesn’t…”

Adora waved a hand at her with a grin. God, this was precious. Instead she just tugged out the receipt smoothly and scribbled on it.

“Here you go… three pizzas for twenty bucks! Plus something extra…”

Glimmer returned to the room a minute later, breathing heavily. She dropped the pizzas on the table. She walked over to the couch and crawled onto it. She buried her face into a cushion and screamed.

Mermista spoke up first. “Uh, so, Glimmer? Yeah, you’re like… totally understood, alright? She was, uh… something.”

Bow’s sparkle-eyes had activated and he bounced on his seat. “Awwww, now you both got a crush on her! Huh? What’s that, Glimmer?”

Glimmer was waving the receipt in his face. She screamed again, before slowly looking up at the two of them.

“…She gave me her number.”

#spop #shera #she ra #adora #glimmer #glimmadora #bow #mermista #glimadora week #my writing

[taxesdeathtrouble]

going to be true, if you’ll let me

i really did write another gertchase fic huh

2600 words

medium angst with a happy ending + some good old team bonding

title is from Dinah Washington’s Come Rain or Come Shine

enjoy!

Technically, this is all Alex's fault. When they'd found the safe in Chase's father's office- his parents were out of town for a convention- Alex was determined to get it open that night. 'I'm almost there,' he'd say, 'just a few more minutes,' he'd say. Bullshit, Gert would think.

As much as she wants to know what's in the safe, the biggest rainstorm in months is raging outside, and Gert had wanted to get home before it got so bad she and Molly wouldn't be able to drive home.

Which, of course, is what happens.

So now the six of them are stuck at Chase's house for the night.

She catches his eye from the couch, and immediately looks away. She's not exactly avoiding him, but she is trying her damn hardest to get over him, because she's pretty sure he doesn't like her, and feeling the way Gert does is a waste of everyone's time.

The six of them are sat in the living room, and Alex is fiddling with the safe, Nico looking over his shoulder. She'd already tried using her staff, but it hadn't worked. Gert almost wants to commend Mr. Stein for figuring out how to block literal, actual, magic, but then she remembers he's a ritualistic murderer and mentally backtracks.

Molly is taking up the entire couch and also using Gert's thigh as a pillow, but she can't bring herself to push her off. She'd carried the ridiculously heavy safe all the way from the office on the third floor to the living room two floors down. She runs a hand over Molly's curls, then shivers.

"It's freezing here. Damn, Chase, you live like this?" Nico snorts at her joke, and she lets the small bit of validation distract her from what might basically be another few hours of waiting.

"Hey, my people come from warmth and sunshine. If we had a normal heating system we'd melt."

"And what people is that, gym rats or hair gel top customers?" She really shouldn't be talking to Chase right now. It always devolves into flirting so fast- for her, at least, and that is the opposite of what she should be doing.

"Hey, not all of us can roll out of bed looking like we just walked off a colour shampoo promotional shoot, leave me and my hair alone."

"Oh but you're just so easy to make fun of. How long does it take you to reach perfection before you leave the house? Do you have to get up early or do you get to class late?"

"As if you don't meticulously plan out your outfits every morning to look as cool and unique as possible." His mouth curls around the words with a smirk, and she has to look away, just for a second.

"Pssh, says the boy who wears variations of the same thing every day just because he knows it looks nice on him, wear something other than a Henley or Polo and we can talk." His cheeks are kind of pink and blotchy. it's a good look on him.

"Jeez, would you guys stop flirting? Some of us are trying to sleep!" Molly pokes her in the stomach, and Gert pushes her onto the floor. Gently, though. She's not that mean.

"Ow, just because I called out you and your dumb boyfriend doesn't mean you can push me. Wait, that's rude, sorry Chase," she says, turning to him like the scoundrel she is, "you're not dumb."

He chokes out a, "Thanks, Mols," before getting up and going to the Nico and Alex across the room, both of whom are two seconds from busting out laughing. Karolina, who's been quietly losing her fucking mind in the corner, stops when Gert throws her her best 'if you don't stop right now there will be hell to pay' look. She'd perfected it when Molly turned 11.

Eventually, Alex cracks open the safe. Inside is a tiny usb, which he then plugs into his laptop and before settling on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. He plugs in his earbuds, and it's clear he's not going to move an inch for the next couple hours.

Molly and Chase end up having to carry the safe back upstairs. Molly keeps saying she can do it herself, but there's no way Gert is going to send her sister into a coma when she can send her into a nice nap instead.

~~~~~

"So," Molly says as soon as the safe is put back, kicking the door closed with her foot, "Are you actually into my sister, or am I, like, hallucinating?" Shit, why is everyone calling him out today?

"Um. We're not dating, if that's what you mean. Not that I don't want to date her, because," he looks away, choosing his words carefully, "because she's awesome, and so great, but I feel like I threw away my shot when I all but ignored her for Karolina, which was dumb, especially since she's literally a lesbian, how oblivious can I be, right?"

He hears a thud, and realizes looking away from a girl with power triggered narcolepsy right after using said powers was probably a bad idea.

~~~~~

Chase comes down the stairs holding a sleeping Molly in a bridal carry like it's the easiest thing he's ever done, laying her down on the couch as gently as possible. It really is unfair that he's so hot and so caring all at once. Pick one, right?

The five of them (Alex is trying his damndest to break that firewall tonight) fiddle with their phones for a few minutes, but even that gets boring after a while.

"Hey," Karolina says, hesitantly, "Do you guys want to play never have I ever? Or two truths and a lie? Or something? There's no point in just waiting in silence for Alex to get through the firewall."

"Um," Gert says, "Sure?" she's not wrong, and hey, it could be.....fun?

"Alright, so what are we gonna play? I vote never have I ever," Nico says. Chase agrees, and goes to grab the drinks with the lowest alcohol content for everyone but Molly, who just gets soda.

"I figured no one actually wanted to get drunk tonight, so." They sit in a small circle, Chase on one side of her and Karolina on the other.

"I'll start, I guess?" Nico says, "Never have I ever gotten arrested."

Gert takes a drink, but she's the only one to do so. Nico looks as surprised as she is, clearly she thought that should've gotten more.

"Okaayy," she says, "since I was the only one to drink, I guess I'll go? Never have I ever shown up to school hungover." Chase and Nico both take a drink.

"Never have I ever...." Chase starts, "fallen asleep at a random time." Molly groans and takes a drink.

"That's not fair, but if you want to play that way, fine." she looks around the group, a little devilishly, then says, "Never have I ever had strong feelings for someone in our friend group, and if it's more than one person you finish your glass." Gert is going to fight her sister.

"Molly, I'm going to sic my dinosaur on you," she says, then takes a drink, as does Karolina. Nico looks at her glass indecisively like she can't decide, Karolina watching her without subtlety as she finishes off her drink.

Chase tips back his glass for a long drink, then places it in front of him.

It's empty.

Molly winks at her when she catches her eye before Karolina starts.

"Never have I ever snuck out of the house."

Everyone but Molly drinks, and the next hour devolves from there, even after they switch to two truths and a lie.

"Seriously, though, it is absolutely freezing in here," she says, after they'd decided to stop playing, for fear they'd wake up Molly. She'd fallen asleep a few minutes ago, and the four of them left wanted to let her sleep.

"Do you want my sweater?" Chase asks. Yes yes yes i am so cold yes.

"Uh, I'm good, thanks." She can't, okay. It would only fuel the pros section of why she shouldn't fight her crush on Chase. It's starting to become a big list.

But Chase doesn't have ears, apparently, because he pulls off his sweater, a soft grey hoodie that's big even on him, and tosses it to her.

She immediately pulls it over her head, begrudgingly thanking him and smiling despite herself.

The sweater is as soft as it looks, and worn at the wrists, clearly very old. She burrows into it, smells the scent of his Givenchy cologne that she knows he has, Chase, she saw it on his nightstand- and something else that she hasn't ever been able to place, even when they were younger. She pulls up the hood, because damn, she really is freezing.

~~~~~

Oh.

Oh, shit, why did Chase do this to himself.

~~~~~

She falls asleep in the hoodie.

By 11:30, everyone was tired, so Chase found pillows and blankets, and Nico forced Alex off his laptop to get some sleep. They all mutually agreed Molly should get the couch, and lie down in a circle in almost the same spots as when they were earlier, Alex taking Molly's place. Gert curls into a ball, tucks her legs under the sweater and pulls the blanket up over her ears, knowing that she wont fall asleep but trying anyway. Since they'd learned about their parents, her insomnia had gotten worse, though it was manageable. But on the floor? In someone else's house? No way she'll fall asleep before 4 AM.  

Waking up the next morning, Gert doesn't want to get up. She actually gotten a bit more sleep than expected last night, and she's so warm, and her pillow is so comfortable.

But she cracks an eye open anyways, because her pillow happens to be moving.

She's got her arm thrown across Chase's stomach, her head resting on her chest. Their legs are tangled together, and Chase's arm is wrapped around her, holding her close, almost protectively.

Or, alternatively, he won't let go and Gert is going to die from emotional overload. Right here, right now. Screw getting their parents put in jail, screw solving the mystery; Gert is going to keel over and die right now.

"Chase," she says, poking him, "Wake up."

"Five more minutes, babe," yep, she's going to die. The epitaph on her gravestone is going to read, 'I blame Chase Stein.'

And Chase doesn't even have the decency to loosen his grip, if anything, he pulls her closer.

She sighs, and almost considers just...letting it be. Letting this happen. But as much as she wants to, she cant. She can't keep doing this to herself, you know? Chase doesn't actually like her, and she has to stop fooling herself into thinking he does.

So she reaches up and flicks his cheek, and when he reflexively moves his arm, she pushes away and fucks off to the bathroom for the next half hour.

When, she comes out, everyone is up. The storm still isn't giving up, though it's due to stop around noon. Alex is already tapping away, and the rest of the Scooby gang is in the kitchen while Chase attempts breakfast, though it seems like Molly is doing most of the work- for an overstressed fourteen year old, she has culinary skills.

"......Hey, guys." She says, trying to hide that she's nervous, though she doesn't really know why she is.  Though maybe it has something to do with the way Chase is looking at her, with stars in his eyes and a warm smile that she has to be misinterpreting, right? Right?

"Hey, you showed up. Kind of thought you passed out in there," Molly says, laughing, "Here, try this, would you? I'm trying to make our pancake recipe from memory but...." she holds out the spoon, and Gert leans forward and tastes the batter.

"Hmm," she says, "It needs blueberries, I think. Chase," she won't, can't, look at him, "blueberries?"

He takes them from the fridge and passes them to Molly, clearly trying to make eye contact with Gert, but she looks in the other direction, running her hands up and down the sleeves of Chase's sweater, that she's still wearing, somehow, in discomfort.

The pancakes are ready within the next fifteen minutes, and Nico drags Alex into the kitchen to eat. They sit together at the island and dig in, all drowning the pancakes in syrup because they're teenagers and it's required for teenagers to eat pancakes with too much syrup.

Chase is sat next to her, she couldn't avoid it, and he keeps trying to nudge her into the conversation. Prompting her, making a joke that she's obviously supposed to respond to, actually nudging her with his elbow. Any other day, she'd be able to do this. But right now, she doesn't even want to be here, she just wants to go home, eat ice cream, and wallow.

~~~~~

She won't look at him, she won't even talk to him. Chase knows that this morning was kind of.....weird, but in a good way, right? Maybe? Or maybe he really did fuck it up past repair, and there's no way they'll even be friends anymore.

God, he hopes not.

~~~~~

After they eat, they all start to head back to the living room, basically planning to stare over Alex's shoulder until the storm lets up, but Chase grabs her arm before she can leave.

"Hey, could I.......talk to you?"

"Well, we're already talking right now, but what's up?" ah, sarcasm, a girl's best friend.

He slides the door shut, steps closer, and says, "That's the thing, though, I'm not sure we are? Talking, that is. I feel like I messed up big time and then got amnesia. Gert, I know this morning must've made you uncomfortable, but it wasn't on purpose. Is there some big thing that I've done recently that upset you? If you tell me, I'll apologize, but I can't apologize for something that I don't know I did, you know?," he gestures with hands, the same way he always does when he's trying especially hard to get his point across.

"Listen," she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "It's not anything you did, okay? You're......you're not at fault here, this is my thing, and I just need some time to deal, some time to fucking recuperate, I guess, and, and you don't have be any part of it, so just, just-" she has to pause slow her breathing, because she is not going to freak out right now, she is in control, she's okay.

Chase leans in and softly wipes away a tear making its way down her cheek with his thumb, cupping her cheek. "Not that you have to," he says, "but this would a bit more sense if you actually told me what the problem is." His hand is still on her cheek, and she has to resist the urge to lean into it, chase the warmth of him that she wants so bad.

".......Okay,"  is she actually doing this? What the hell, is she actually doing this? "Okay, okay, okay. I..........I have feelings for you. There. I said it."

And then she actually looks at him, makes eye contact for the first time since last night, notices the shots of green in his hazel eyes. Notices, for the first time, how he looks at her; like she put the stars in the sky and the moon was hung for her pleasure.

"Oh, Gert," he sounds unbearably soft. "Can I kiss you?"

She nods, even though she's a bit in shock, and he leans in. This is totally, absolutely, the opposite of how she thought this would go, but she's not complaining.

The kiss is soft, and kind of odd because neither of them can stop smiling, and really, that's a bigger prohibiter than she thought it would be, but whatever. It's the sweetest kiss she's ever experienced.

His other hand goes to her waist, and she twists her fingers into his shirt, and it's so, so good,-

"Hey, Gert, have you- holy crap!"

Molly is standing in the doorway, looking like she just touched a live wire. Whoops.

"Uh-"

"Um-"

"Nope!" she says, already turning around, "I don't need an explanation! Enjoy yourselves!"

They turn to each other and burst into giggles. Chase wraps one arm around her, pulling her in, and she presses her face into his chest.

Gert finally knows what it is he smells like, now.

He smells like home.

#gertchase #mine #runaways #marvels runaways #gert yorkes #chase stein #molly hernandez #nico minoru #karolina dean #alex wilder #they're....so good i love gertchase so much if u couldn't tell #deanoru #a little

[trustyourpartner]

so a while back i tripped over and then fell in love with @cafecliche‘s yuri on ice fics, and then while i was checking out her tumblr i found out that she co-writes the bridge podcast with @alextriestousetheinternet, and i was like “oceanic eldritch horror alternate history with lesbians? sign me up!” and binge-listened to it all in like two days. and then i started writing this. at this point it’s probably going to waste away in my wips folder because i have so many other projects i’m working on, but i thought i’d let the stuff i have written see the light of day? so. enjoy.

The labels are nearly worn off of the switchboard at this point, by decades of fingers sliding over the words on their lazy way to the keys and buttons and knobs, but Viktor doesn't need the labels to boot up the broadcasting system. He could do this in his sleep by now; undoubtedly has, at some point over the last several years, during one of the periods when the coffeemaker was acting up, or maybe on a particularly gloomy day where the iron gray sky bled into the sea, turning the world outside the window into one huge dome of half-light, broken only by the long line of the highway stretching over the waves.

He waits for the static to clear from his headset, then takes a swig of water from the bottle on the floor and switches the microphone on.

"Good afternoon, travelers," he says. The chipper tone isn't even ironic, at this point; just a reflex. "This is Viktor broadcasting from Watchtower Eight, your halfway marker on the journey across the Transcontinental Bridge. It's just a few minutes until the top of the hour, but I think we can get a head start on our traffic report. Current Bridge conditions are the same as usual, which means—" here he leans forward to glance out the window again, just to be sure "—no traffic near Watchtower Eight. So all of you nonexistent drivers will have a pleasant cruise across this particular bit of the Atlantic."

A bright chime bursts out of the tinny intercom speakers on the console, and the light labeled Inter-Tower Channel flashes green. Viktor flips the switch that connects his personal headset to the public frequency.

"Fucking moron," is Yuri Plisetsky's greeting, somewhat obscured by the normal static from the line. "There is literally never any traffic, Viktor. You don't have to do your annoying-ass reports."

"Good to hear from you too, Yura," Viktor says. "How are things over at Eleven?"

"Dead. There is nothing here. Oh, no, actually, a seagull brained itself on the signal beam this morning, and I got sent up to chuck its body into the sea. It's the most exciting thing that's happened in months."

Which probably isn't true, Viktor thinks, but he'd believe that it's the most exciting thing that can be broadcast on the airwaves. The intercom chimes again, and a new voice chimes in.

"Maybe the seagull was just bored out of its head," the new voice—Viktor has to think for a second to place it as Leo, from Watchtower One, all the way back on the American coast—says. "The ones back here just try to steal my lunch."

"And how is the ground traffic on your end, Leo?" Viktor asks, so that he can at least sort of pretend to be doing his job.

"Two skateboarders practicing their grinds on the guardrail," Leo reports. "For the record, this is inadvisable. It's a long drop, kiddos."

"'Kiddos'," Yuri scoffs. "How old are you again, Iglesia?"

"Older than you!" Leo says.

"Ah well," Viktor says. "I'm afraid that's it for our afternoon traffic report. So, listeners who may or may not exist, I'm afraid I'll take my leave for now. Lunch won't make itself!"

He leaves Yuri and Leo to their bickering and ends his broadcast. The equipment makes a shuddery, wheezy sound when he powers it down, but Viktor's not terribly worried about it. He's fairly sure everything in this Watchtower could survive a war. It might have already. He doesn't know about that, but he does know better than to ask. He's been threatened more than once for snooping in the Archives, and not by his supervisor, but by strange people who called his personal cell phone and whispered reprimands that sent shivers up his spine. Never mind the fact that he hadn't charged his cell phone in years, or that he didn't get reception in the middle of the Atlantic.

The spiral staircase that leads down to the main floor is situated in the gap between the broadcasting room and the guest cabins. The steps rattle under Viktor's feet. He passes Georgi on the second floor, tinkering with something in the ceiling—hopefully the vents, because none of the crew cabins have been getting decent air circulation in months. Viktor ignores him and continues down to the first floor, turning into the kitchen. Yakov is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a dour expression.

"Vitya," he says, "how many times do I need to tell you to do your damn job?"

Viktor waves him off with a lazy sweep of his hand. "There's nobody to make traffic," he says, "and nobody to hear the traffic report. Quit being such a fusspot, old man."

Yakov harrumphs into his coffee, but doesn't respond; this is an argument he and Viktor have had dozens of times over the last few years. "As long as you do your other job," he says.

"Yes, calm down, I'm going to feed Makka now," he says. "Where's the bucket?"

"It's outside the containment area," Yakov says. "Georgi filled it earlier. Honestly, Vitya, that stuff reeks."

"Makkachin likes it!" Viktor says. "I'll get going. I'm sure he can smell his food already."

He takes the stairs down two at a time: past the Archives in Submare One, the storage rooms in Submare Two, all the way down to Submare Three. This far below the water, the walls creak and groan with the shifting waves. There are no portholes—best not to think about what's outside, Yakov had said, on Viktor's first day—but even so Viktor's bones ache with the knowledge that the sunlight is dim down here. The rivets hold steady, but Viktor can still imagine them shaking loose, the walls buckling inward, crushing the Watchtower like a tin can.

Viktor shakes it off when he reaches the vault door in Submare Three. He taps in the twelve-digit code on the keypad with one hand and picks up the bucket of severed fish heads with the other. When the lock beeps, he presses his thumb and all of his fingers against the scanner in turn; only then do the hydraulics hiss as the door unlocks with an ominous clunk. Despite the thickness of the steel, the door opens easily at Viktor's touch.

The vault door opens up into the containment area: a huge circular room that takes up nearly all of the lowest level of the Watchtower. Despite this, the only floor is a narrow metal walkway around the edge, just over a foot wide. The rest of the chamber is open water: deep, dark, and washing back and forth in small waves, despite the fact that there are no direct water lines between it and the ocean outside.

"Makkachin!" Viktor trills. "Where's my good boy? Did you miss me?"

He drops the bucket and claps his hands over his ears: just in time, as a hellish SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEE echoes through the chamber. The water boils. Three long, brown tentacles, each nearly as thick as Viktor's thigh and easily long enough to brush the towering ceiling, burst through from below, the suckers pulsing. One of the tentacles begins slithering over the walkway by Viktor's feet, slinking, searching.

"I've got your dinner here, boy," Viktor says, and reaches into the bucket. He picks up a fish head and tosses it, watching as one of the other tentacles snaps down lightning-quick to snatch it out of the air and drag it below the water. "Is it nummies?" Viktor asks. "Nummy fish for the good Makkachin?"

The resulting chainsaw-on-chalkboard noise doesn't make Viktor's ears bleed, thankfully. The seeking tentacle near his feet winds around his leg, slick mottled brown, and Viktor leans down to give it a gentle pat.

"I missed you too, buddy," Viktor says. "Open wide, okay? Food incoming!"

He throws the rest of the bucket's contents out into the water and sits on the edge of the walkway while Makkachin's tentacles pull the fish bits into the depths. He's just tall enough that he can point his toes and tap the surface of the water with the soles of his shoes, so he does. During his first month at the Watchtower he taught himself Morse code in a fit of over-enthusiasm, so he uses it now, tapping and swishing the water, a secret message just for him and Makka: tap-swish-tap-tap-swish-swish-swish-swish-tap-tap.

Makkachin probably doesn't know Morse code. So maybe it's just a message for Viktor. Fitting.

"I'm sorry it's so lonely down here," he says. "I don't mean to stay upstairs so long. I'll come visit more often."

Makkachin gurgles.

"Yeah, just me and you, buddy," Viktor says, and reaches out absently to scratch a passing tentacle.

--

Before he’d been a Watchtower crewman, Viktor Nikiforov had been a legend.

He’d been on the top of the figure skating world for nearly a decade. His undefeated streak spanned five years: five years of gold at the Grand Prix, at Nationals, at Euros, at Worlds. Multiple world records tucked under his belt. Two Olympic titles. Russia’s hero, they called him; a god among men. Undefeated, unattainable, untouchable. His shadow from atop the podium was monstrous in the flashes of the cameras.

He’d just won his fifth Worlds gold in Boston when the kennel called. His dog—Makkachin—had just died. In his sleep, the woman said. Surely he hadn’t been in any pain. A gentle death for a gentle dog.

Viktor hadn’t seen Makkachin for nearly three days before he’d actually left.

So he’d told his coach that he was going to rent a car and drive back to Europe. Time to clear his head, he’d said, and the coach had agreed. The Transcontinental Bridge still had a lingering reputation as a tourist attraction, albeit one that Viktor had experienced before. Even half-abandoned it was a marvel of engineering. There were hotels, restaurants, museums, little Bridge-side towns with kitschy mom-and-pop shops. Viktor had ignored these; for just under a full day of driving it had been only him and the ocean. He’d driven and driven and then stopped for the night at Checkpoint Eight, the Transcontinental Hotel: the pride of the Bridge, a glittering palace over the sea with a glass ballroom, fresh-turned silk sheets on every bed, and a string quartet that turned sea shanties into sweeping waltzes for guests to float along to under the stars.

He’d emailed the Russian Skating Federation his resignation notice the next morning. By that afternoon he’d unpacked his single carry-on in one of the empty crew cabins in Watchtower Eight, his handful of spare shirts and underwear tucked neatly inside the chipboard drawers, the concrete walls bare, the fresh cotton sheets scratching his bare skin.

And…well. Why would Viktor ever leave?

--

“Good afternoon, Bridge travelers,” Viktor says. “It’s another slow day here by Watchtower Eight, and so, your traffic report: there is no traffic. I’m sure if you questionably-extant listeners wait for a few minutes, one of my colleagues from elsewhere on the Bridge will chime in with commentary.”

Viktor waits for a beat, then repeats himself in Russian and in French, just because he can.

The intercom beeps, and Christophe’s voice comes through, amused and slurred—likely hungover, or maybe just being Chris. “Your accent is horrendous,” he says by way of greeting.

“Good afternoon, Christophe,” Viktor says. “How are things?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” Chris says. “Light traffic down here at Fifteen, come stop by the Gold Doubloon casino for a fun night of games and revelry, gamble responsibly: don’t wager anything you aren’t willing to lose, don’t play for anything you aren’t willing to live with, et cetera. Word on the wire is that there’s a big closure down by Checkpoint Nine—do you know anything about that?”

“Hmm? No.” Viktor absently shuffles the stack of letters from mainland headquarters. He should probably read them at some point.

“Ah, there’s a little Bridge-side town that’s closed its access road. The Travel Agency sent out a notice that the road won’t reopen, so drivers should plan their stops around it, what’s it called…Hatsetsu?”

Viktor frowns. The name tickles at the edge of his memory, but nothing concrete comes to mind. Possibly he just remembers driving past the sign, if it’s really so close to his own domain. “Any idea how the residents are going to get around?”

“Well, that’s just the thing,” Chris says. His voice is low, now, conspiratorial, as though they weren’t having this discussion over public airwaves. They could be huddled around a campfire, sharing ghost stories. “You didn’t hear this from me, but a little birdy”—meaning, Viktor thinks, Phichit—“says the town’s abandoned. Everyone vanished overnight. Poof.”

Before he can respond, someone else on the Inter-Tower line squeaks out a small “Ah.” This is followed by a gust of air and a smacking sound. Viktor thinks, suddenly, of a small child clapping a hand over their own mouth, afraid to be caught listening.

“Hello?” he says.

“Oh,” the new voice says, strangely muffled, and then clearer: “Oh. Uh. This is Watchtower Nine—sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Nine!” Chris says. “I don’t recognize your voice.”

“Oh, yes,” the man says. “I’m new. I just started here.”

Viktor smiles. It’s been a while since any of the towers have gotten new crewmen. “What’s your name?” he asks, propping his chin on the desk.

“I’m…I’m Yuuri Katsuki,” the voice says. “It’s nice to, uh, meet you?”

“Welcome to the Bridge, Yuuri,” Viktor says.

Yuuri—laughs? It’s hard to tell over the crackling line. “I’ve lived here all my life,” he says, “but thank you.”

“Your whole life, huh?” Chris says. “Very interesting. Not many Bridge natives come to work at the Watchtowers. What brought you to us?”

Yuuri is silent for a few heartbeats too many. “…change of scenery,” he says finally.

“Well, we’re a good bunch,” Viktor says, over Chris’s questioning noise. “And Chris will only bite if you ask nicely.”

“It takes more than a bite to scare me away,” Yuuri says.

Despite the static noises, Chris’s purr of “Is that so?” comes through crystal clear.

And Viktor makes possibly the most disgusting noise he has ever made in his life, like a pig with a cold, directly into the microphone. He hears another few sets of tinny laughter, probably other Watchtower radio hosts lurking on the line, and over that Yuuri sputtering, “No! I didn’t—not like that!”

“Welcome!” Sara says through the ruckus. “Once Chris has hit on you, you’re really part of the family.”

Viktor’s own laughter trails off a bit at that. He doesn’t know Sara well—mostly snippets of information passed from Mila or Yuri in conversation—but he knows enough to think about the reason she’s on the Bridge at all, running from home and a brother who refused to let her out of his sight. She’d come because she’d had nowhere else, and then she’d stayed.

Family might be too strong a word for what they are, a collection of outcasts strung across thousands of miles. Viktor already knows he will never see most of these peoples’ faces. But after all, it’s not as though he has anyone else.

“Vitya!” Yakov’s shout echoes up the stairs.

“Oh, dear,” Viktor says. “My supervisor’s calling—I have to go. It’s been a pleasure, Yuuri.”

“Ah—likewise, Viktor,” Yuuri says. Viktor indulges himself in a lazy smile as he powers down the equipment.

It’s not until after he’s fed Makkachin that he realizes nobody ever told Yuuri his name.

--

Here was a secret that Viktor had sworn he would take to his grave long before he came to the Bridge: the podium was his least favorite place to be.

The rest of it had a certain thrill to it. The routines, of course; the costumes, extravagant and beautiful and designed to make him irresistible and ever-so-slightly inhuman; the plane rides to faraway countries, the sponsors and the fancy dinners. The hotels with silk sheets and crystal chandeliers that glinted like little chips of stolen starlight.

The podium, though—somewhere along the way it became a pedestal, or a display shelf. He looked good and he worked hard to stay there until he thought maybe his feet would fuse to the top spot and he’d be frozen there forever, the rest of the skating world clawing at his ankles, tearing at each other for a chance to send him crashing down.

He was Viktor Nikiforov, the legend. The singular. There was no room at the top for anyone else.

Perhaps the move to sea level did some good. But now here he was, sitting at the top of the Watchtower, just him and the radio and the empty road.

#callie writes #the bridge #yuri on ice #CUT BC I WROTE...WAY MORE THAN I THOUGHT I DID #oh well

[5hfanfiction]

running out of choices

Camila wants to date. She does. Who wouldn’t when aside from her two dogs at home, she’s seriously been considering getting a cat. And a cat, in her vocabulary, is synonymous to dying alone at her house with no one to look out for her and show at least a little sadness from her passing, aside maybe a few barks and meows from her pets, assuming she wouldn’t outlive all of them, which is sort of impossible unless she dies early from an accident. But she wouldn’t think about that. It’s horrible.

So when her social butterfly of a friend named Dinah offers to set her up with a few people her friend knows, she doesn’t decline.

But see, it is from Dinah’s good intentions that she ends up having the worst nights she’s had in a long time.

Camila doesn’t mind a long hair,  a goatee, stubble marks, and tattoos all over a man. But when he consistently makes that aweful snorting noise whenever he will start replying to whatever Camila is saying, or whenever he will laugh at whatever she is saying, not that she tries to because she only tries hard when she likes somebody and she obviously doesn’t like him, it’s like pulling the plug out for her.

“No, Dinah.” Camila says stubbornly to her friend over the phone.

“But Michael’s been pestering me all week. Try and give him another date then tell him in person you’re not interested.”

“I don’t know how you’re friends with him when he obviously doesn’t know when to quit bothering a girl who doesn’t reciprocate her feelings.” She replies huffing out a breath.

“Actually he’s a friend of a friend who’s been crushing on you for a long time.”

“I’m sorry, Dinah. I don’t want to waste both of our time. And if he wanted any answer from me, me not replying his texts should be enough.”

Camila hangs up the phone after that.

The next date night, it is pretty okay. Kelly is obviously so taken by her. But she’s kind of used to it by now, having had a lot of people grovel at her feet since she entered the age of puberty and her ass decided to grow bigger than any other parts of her body, so no big deal. And he’s a gentleman enough. He pulls up her chair when she comes in, asks her first what she wants to have for dinner and not make the wrong move of getting their orders for both of them in an unattractive way of masculine display. But by the end of the night, she decides he goes out of the way for her too much.

“Are we finished with dinner now? Should we go home? Can I see you again? Can I call you?” Camila shares to Dinah Monday morning in her office cubicle. “I swear Dinah, it’s like he can’t make a decision on his own.”

Dinah laughs at her exaggerated reaction but defends Kelly. “You’re too harsh on him. It’s actually cute. Not a lot of guys will do that for a girl nowadays.”

Camila rolls up her eyes. “You think that’s cute but we talked about books and I asked him if he liked To Kill a Mockingbird because he said he’s read it but his answer was should he like it? Because, he said, if I liked it then he’ll like it, too.”

Dinah lets out a loud laugh at that. “He’s probably too nervous around you.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being harsh but I cannot date a pussy.”

Many date nights come around after that but all are first dates and there is still no one she considered having another one with. Dinah says she’s running out of ideas, which Camila only half believes because, duh, how can she if Camila swings both ways and basically all single people can fit in on her category, maybe except for those who are not between the age of twenty and thirty and of course doesn’t belong to the crazy asylums.

One night looks more promising than the others. Ariana is a pleasant girl. She says the right things at the right time. Sort of laughs at her jokes. Shares most of her hobbies and seem nice enough. But when she’s about to ask her out on another date, Ariana bursts out crying, saying she comes from a strict Catholic family and going out on a lesbian date is already making her feel awfully guilty, so yes she has to say no.

“Dinah, I’m not sure if you’re really trying to help me out. Next time you pair me up with a girl, make sure she’s really into girls and proud of me. I’m starting to believe you’re out here trying to give me heartbreak instead of fixing my problem.”

“I’m sorry. She seemed so eager, I didn’t think she had that deep emotional burden in her.” Her friend apologizes.

The next weekend, Camila decides it’s a date with her couch and Netflix. Not even fifteen minutes into the movie, though, a scruffling noise comes and a weight is falling on the seat beside her, hand scooping up a few pieces of popcorn from her bowl.

“Can’t you at least knock?” Camila blurts out, annoyed at the surprising intrusion.

“Why? I still have your keys remember?”

Camila huffs out a breath. “You’re annoying.”

“Awww. Is that your sweet way of welcoming me back?”

Camila slaps the hand that’s taking another handful of popcorn and answers. “No, it’s me telling you you’re annoying.”

“Oh, Camz. Didn’t you miss me?”

Camila pushes the girl away from her who’s been trying to snuggle up on her as she looks to Camila’s brown eyes. “Stop it, Laur. Stay on that side.”

The green-eyed just pouts her lips in a cute way that Camila tries her best to ignore. Thankfully, the other girl stops being all touchy and sits comfortably on the couch a feet away from her.

“So when have you been back?” Camila decides to ask once the movie is finished.

Lauren munches on the pizza they ordered before answering. “Just this morning.”

Camila squints her eyes. “Aren’t you jet lagged?”

“A little. But it’s nothing that wouldn’t be erased by a few hours of sleep.”

“You should go sleep now.”

Lauren makes that cute pout again.

“I’m serious.”

“But I want to stay here.”

“You can’t. Besides your apartment is just across the floor.”

“But I want to be with you.”

Camila sighs. Sometimes she’s not sure if Lauren is just a sweet girl or simply a victim of amnesia. But either way, she relents. “Alright go to sleep now then you can come back tomorrow.”

The green eyes of the girl in front of her light up at that, and a second after that, Lauren is hugging her, smiling widely. “I missed you, Camz.”

Lauren is sweet but Camila doesn’t reply back.

The following Monday morning, Dinah notices her head is somewhere else. “What is it?”

“What?”

“You’re going out in space, Mila.”

“I’m not.”

Dinah just looks her in the eyes. Apparently well versed with her already that she doesn’t believe what Camila just said.

“Lauren is back.”

As if those three words are enough to make sense of how Camila is acting, Dinah opens her mouth in an O, muttering nothing.

Camila goes out to another couple of dates after that, not changing her schedule even if Lauren is back. It’s not like, well, whatever. It’s in the past, she should focus on her present.

A few hours after one though, she comes home fuming, very much annoyed at the man who tried to grope her as he was trying to kiss her. That’s it, she’ll tell Dinah to give them the guy or girl’s resume or whatever first before she goes out on a date with them.

“Bad date?”

Camila almost jumps at the sound of the voice. In her preoccupied mind, she didn’t see the figure standing by the door near hers.

“You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Lauren takes the keys from her and opens her door. In her fuming, Camila doesn’t notice her hands are shaking in anger and she has a hard time inserting her key on the knob.

Lauren gets in after her and sits on her couch, eyes on the floor, seemingly deep in thought.

“I saw the guy drop you off from my window. He deserves the slap you gave him. Are you alright?”

Camila is a little surprised the raven-haired saw that but mutters a yes, she’s okay.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Okay.”

“Since when have you been going out on dates?”

“A couple of months ago.”

Lauren nods, a little more solemn than she usually is. “Okay.”

Camila watches her walk out of her apartment, wondering what that was about.

Two more dates and Camila thinks she’s met a man she might actually really like. His name is Nick, polite, very manly looking, she bets he has a great set of abs underneath his coat and tie, a gentleman, and just absolutely anything a girl would want in a man. So she goes out with him for a second and a third date and it’s on the third date, when he walks her up to her apartment that Camila decides they should have their first kiss.

It was a perfect moment, actually. The lights are dim since it’s already past eleven and the dinner was exquisite. But as they are both leaning in, the sound of a door banging and someone walking inside to their apartment are heard and the trance is gone.

Nick just coughs smoothly, taking a step from her, and mutters, “As always, it was a great night tonight being with you.”

Camila gives her a bright smile. “I enjoyed it as well.”

“So I, uh, I’ll call you?”

“Yeah.” Camila gives him a kiss on the cheek.

Inside her apartment, Camila looks at her phone and sees the first text Lauren has sent her in months after Camila told her to stop bothering her.

I bet he’s a bad kisser anyway.

The next afternoon, a knock comes at her door right after she has just woken up, showered and done eating lunch.

Camila opens the door to Lauren, hand carrying a set of DVDs she hasn’t seen yet.

“Movie night!!” The raven-haired exclaims excitedly, bringing up the DVDs.

Camila furrows her brow. “I didn’t know we talked about that.”

“No we didn’t. But it’s a wonderful idea and we should do it.” Lauren answers, walking straight to her couch.

Now, it maybe just because Camila is a sour person when she’s just woken up, or she is just too surprised or she’s too confused by the way Lauren has been acting but there is no way she can stop what comes out from her mouth in the following moments.

“I don’t understand it. You break up with me, leave for five months, then come back acting like this is normal.”

“What’s not normal, Camz? We used to have a lot of movie nights before.”

“Yeah, we did. I remember that. But do you really not remember that kiss we had during that one movie night? Or that time when you asked me to be your girlfriend and I said yes? Do you honestly not remember that huge fight when we broke up? Or that time when you left for Paris even if I didn’t want you to and we still weren’t in good terms?”

“I’m not sure what you expected to find here when you left and came back but we’re not even friends, Lauren. Not anymore.”

Lauren visibly deflates at her words and Camila thinks for a few seconds to apologize at her outburst but before she could, Lauren is already walking out of her door, head bowed down, shoulders slumping.

On their fourth date, Camila kisses Nick. She doesn’t let him walk her up to her apartment thinking her bipolar neighbor, Lauren, might make another move to interrupt them but she let’s him walk her until the main door.

It feels nice, just as everything with Nick feels nice. It doesn’t give her butterflies or fireworks but she’s learning to be realistic and knows that’s hard to find and she’s found Nick and he’s nice and good to her, she can start with that.

She walks up to her home, thinking she can have a future with Nick when someone from her past comes wading through her thoughts.

“Does he make you blissfully happy?” Lauren asks her, propped on the wall beside the green-eyed’s door, hands on her front pants pockets.

Camila doesn’t answer and opens her door, intent in ignoring Lauren.

“I’m not acting as I was before because I don’t care about what happened. I came back like that because I thought if I did, maybe I could get you back.”

“Let’s not do this right now, Laur.”

“Just hear me out, first. I promise I’ll leave you alone after this.”

Camila turns to Lauren at that, noticing everything from the way the raven-haired stands to what she can see in her eyes screams sadness so she listens.

“I left for Paris even when we were arguing and you threatened to pull out the plug on us because it was my dream. I’ve been a struggling photographer for the longest time and it’s just exactly the break I needed to somehow get somewhere in the career I’ve chosen. I was scared, I didn’t want to lose you but I was also scared that if I stayed, I’d lose you as well. You were very supportive at first, I thought I’ll just let you cool down while I’m away and everything will be okay.

"I went away trying to fulfill my dreams because at the situation I was in, all I can be is a struggling photographer and that’s not good for you. I left because I wanted to give you everything you deserve and I couldn’t do that while it was hard enough trying to make ends meet on my own. Fuck, even this apartment I can’t even call mine because my parents gave it to me.

"I said just five months and I’ll be able to finally give you what you deserve little by little only to find out the greatest dream I left for, I cannot go back to anymore.”

Now, Camila thinks the greatest heartbreak she felt was when they ended their relationship and she ended up crying days after Lauren left for Paris, but right there, she feels her heart shattering into a million pieces.

“I love you, Camz. I hope he gives you even just a fifth of what I feel for you and tries his best to make you happy.”

The next morning, Camila finds herself confiding to Dinah. “I really fucked up, Dinah, didn’t I?”

“Uhm, no?”

“Please be honest with me.”

“Okay. Yes, you did. Big time.”

Camila put her head down on her arms, propped at the table by her elbows in frustration. “Argh! Why does it have to be so complicated?”

“If you would ask me it’s actually not that complicated. All you had to do was let her explain her side before she left but you never let her. And honestly, she never really needed any explaining to do. It’s normal to want to get somebody’s dream. You’re both young and hopeful.”

“But-”

“But what?”

“I was scared she’ll find someone else. She’ll be so far away and I don’t know what can happen there.”

“Has she ever cheated on you or make you feel even in the slightest that she would?”

“No.”

“Then what really is the problem, Mila?”

The problem is her. Camila can admit that now. So she’ll make it up to Lauren, say she is sorry, and hopefully she’ll forgive her.

She knocks on Lauren’s door and when no one answers a couple of minutes later, she uses the key the raven-haired has given her before.

She sits at the couch as she waits. It is another hour when the door opens up revealing Lauren and a beautiful brunette Camila is not familiar with following her.

“Your apartment is cozy, babe.” The brunette says.

“Thank you. Go sit on the couch while I get us something to drink.” Lauren says going to the kitchen, not looking inside the living room just yet.

“Oh, hi. Lauren you didn’t tell me you have another guest.”

Lauren immediately appears after that, finally seeing the brown-eyed girl. “Camila. Uh, yeah Alexa, this is Camila, my neighbor.”

Camila mutters a quiet hi and excuses herself. “I was going to talk to you but let’s - maybe some other time.”

Now, it’s Camila’s turn to walk out the door with shoulders slumping.

Is that Lauren’s date? But she just gave Camila that heartfelt confession last night.

Camila heads straight to her bedroom, deep in thought. She doesn’t notice she is crying until later when her front door opens and hears Lauren calling out her name.

She sits up from her bed and wipes her tear-stained cheeks.

“Camz?” Lauren is now standing by the side of her bed.

“Are you crying? What did that guy do?” Lauren sits in front of her, hand reaching out to her cheek.

“It’s nothing. It’s just the book I’m reading that made me cry.”

It’s a lame excuse, Camila knows that since there’s no book nearby to back up her statement.

Lauren, of course, being the sensitive person that she is when it comes to Camila easily catches on with the lie. “What’s the real reason you are crying?”

Camila doesn’t answer, eyes going down.

Lauren sighs and tilts Camila’s head up with her finger. “What is it? You know I can read you so well.”

“Who is that girl you were with?”

At that, screws and all start working in Lauren’s head and she understands completely why the brunette is upset.

Lauren chuckles. “Are you jealous?”

“It’s not funny!” Camila exclaims, offended, tears threatening to fall from her eyes again.

They do fall down and Lauren stops laughing immediately and hugs her, rubbing her back when she sees it. “Oh, baby, baby, shhh stop crying. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I hate you.” Camila says, sniffling.

“And I love you.”

“There you go telling me you love me then the night after you go on a date with someone else.”

Lauren chuckles again. “She’s not my date. And she’s straight as a rod and getting married to her fiance next month.”

Camila quiets down at that. Getting out of Lauren’s embrace to look at her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.” Lauren says, smiling.

“I’m sorry for everything. I thought about it and I realized I was the one in the wrong and I should’ve been-”

“Shhh,” Lauren brings up a finger to Camila’s mouth to silence her. “It’s all in the past now. Let’s forget about that and move on in the present, alright?”

Camila nods.

“So, does this mean we-?”

Camila nods even before Lauren finishes the question and hugs her tight.

“I missed you so much, babe.”

“I missed you, too.” Camila replies.

“One more thing. Tell that guy, what’s his name?”

“Nick?”

“Tell Nick that the only one you’ll be dating from now on is me, okay?”

“Okay,” Camila answers before going to kiss the lips she’s missed so much.

*** A/N: I was about to go to sleep but then I had this idea so decided to write instead. So sorry for any errors, I didn’t bother correcting them because I’m too sleepy. xx wattpad: litaddict02

#UPDATE #one shot #AU #camren #angst drama #romance fluff #submission #running out of choices

[dragonroyaly]

So you've talked about this numbers thing in the tags before but I don't think you've ever explained it in depth? Care to tell more?

Ah! Never thought I’d actually get asked about that!

It’s a story I’m writing, I woke up a couple months ago with the idea that there are ten kids with the numbers One through Ten as names due to supernatural forces or something like that pretty much mind-controlling their parents to name them that.

I actually haven’t worked out much of the plot or anything, I wrote some of it after I had the idea and then I burned that candle out real quick and then I haven’t worked on it much since but I’ve still been coming up with ideas and such for it.

The Number Squad as I’m calling them all have powers becuase of course they do.

I’m putting the rest under a read more becuase this turned out a lot longer than I expected it to.

One has Water Manipulation,

Two has Air Manipulation, she’s based mainly off of my younger sister due to multiple reasons (Birthday being on 22, zodiac element being air, also Two and her look alike),

Three has Mind Reading,

Four has Mind Control, she‘s famous becuase she said so,

Five has Time Pausing,

Six has Shapeshifting, them and Five are twins,

Seven has Metal Manipulation, she’s the youngest out of all of them,

Eight has Electricity, she’s Seven’s best friend,

Nine has Invisibility, he’s the Mom Friend of the group and very shy,

and Ten has Blood and Bone control.

I’m not exactly sure which I came up with first, but the last one came from me asking the group chat for suggestions.

Additional characters are:

Emily, previously named Eleven due to the same reasons the other ten are named that way, except she changed her name to something normal to fit in better. She can tell the future.

Joshie, Three’s best friend. Due to a recent post I’ve seen he’s now going to be basically a modern-day Jesus. He does have powers but those are due to unrelated reasons to The Numbers Squad (One through Emily). Has a giant fucking crush on One. One also has a crush on him. Everyone knows this. Both of them know it. Neither will act on it becuase they’re disasters.

Elle, Emily’s girlfriend. I haven’t worked out much of her yet, but she’s transgender, she likes bright colors, and Emily’s endless support was the only thing that encouraged her to come out at all in the first place.

Gabriel, Elle’s older brother. Was originally a giant asshole but in light of recent events (Cough Cough Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Ten, and Emily threatening his life Cough Cough) he’s trying his best to do better. Is actually pretty nice but still generally un-trusted around them due to being an asshole being and Elle being more important to them.

Layla, One’s older sister. Not much to say about her, honestly. She tries her best at everything she does and still fails a lot. Tries out for cheer squad every chance she gets and hasn’t gotten accepted once. Good at managing other people but not herself. Very much a lesbian. Does not realize she’s a lesbian.

Deana, Two’s younger sister. She likes being spun around nd lifted up with Two’s powers.

Two has another sibling but they’re based on a group chat friend I have and I haven’t told them about this so I can’t actually say anything about them, sorry.

Two’s aunt Lilie. Constantly afraid Two is going to out herself to everyone else. She lives with Two and her mother and her siblings.

Five and Six’s sister Wendy. She likes pink and blue and purple and black and white stripes. She’s dyslexic.

Five and Six also have two more siblings, Arella and Callum. They’re three years older than them and they don’t do anything but stay at home.

Five and Six have six siblings, actually, but Arella, Callum, and Wendy are the only ones who have names right now.

Fay, Three and Joshie’s friend. She’s really quiet, sorta shy, and Three and Joshie are quite possibly her only friends. She likes reading and swimming.

Jacey, One and Layla’s neighbor. Has taken it upon himself to look after these kids while their parents aren’t home and while their parents are home if need be. He makes them lunch and drives them to school.

Red, has a reputation for being like the ‘Bad girl’ of the school but she’s like really really nice and she bakes treats for her friends and helps them with their problems and is a big mom friend. She had enough of her ex and expectations for her so she decided “Y’know fucking what? I’m move out of my house and get my own apartment and dye my hair and start wearing fucking punk clothes and get a tattoo and-” and then she ended up like this. She’s actually really happy like this too.

Nico, Red’s ex boyfriend. He means well but he is, in all honesty, an idiot. He wants to be Red’s friend again, Red wants nothing to do with him, he doesn’t understand that, Red won’t tell him to fuck off to his face, it just keeps going. He has purple streaks in his hair. This doesn’t really have anything to do with Red he just wanted purple streaks in his hair.

Amelia, Red’s girlfriend. You know that line between punk-goth and preppy? Amelia does gymnastics on that line. She likes the color purple a lot. She has told Nico fuck off to his face. He assumed this meant she didn’t like him so he tries to avoid her. She doesn’t like him all that much but it’s becuase Red doesn’t like him much.

Hera, one of the girls in Red’s gang. About what you’d expect from someone who shares a name with a major Greek goddess. Almost everyone else in her family was named after someone from Greek mythology. No one actually remembers what that’s about. She has tattoos all over her back. She is not legally supposed to have tattoos. Red’s the only one who knows where she got them and even that’s only vaguely. She breaks the law on a regular basis.

Hades, Hera’s twin sibling, also in Red’s gang. Yes the twins are aware their names don’t match up much. No they will not ask their parents what that’s about. No they do not care. Recognized as a non-binary icon throughout the school. Also what you’d expect from someone with their name. They have one single tattoo and it’s a matching one they got with Hera. They like to draw.

~

The bits of the story I already have figured out other than basic character backstories and identities is that they get thrown into the same school together.

They can’t use their powers on eachother (Kinda, One, Two, Seven, and Eight all have physical abilities and they don’t just disable when something being moved by the ability comes close to the others. Six, Nine, and Emily can’t use their powers on anyone else but themselves in the first place. Five can drag other people into paused time with some effort including the rest of The Number Squad.), so it was this realization of “I can’t read their thoughts???” from Three, “I can’t control them???” from Four, “I can touch them??? Without hurting them???” From Ten.

Three and Four ended up hating eachothers guts for a bit but also like Frenemies to Lovers trope is Good (I say frenemies and not straight up enemies becuase they were just sort of annoyed that their powers didn’t work on eachother because they relied on those Way Too Much. Also Three is like envious of Four becuase they don’t have parents or money and Four has loving parents and is rich becuase she said so).

Eight works at a cafe with her mother, and is Co Mom Friend of the group.

Eight has a bunch of scars everywhere and it’s obvious most weren’t caused by her. Seven is the only one who gets a backstory for this, and that’s becuase they’re Best Friends. This is also becuase I have not entirely worked out said backstory myself so until I do it’s a secret between Seven and Eight that not even I get to know.

Four’s really good at singing, at first Three thought that was just more mind control shit but after a while they just realized she’s really good at singing.

Five has insomnia and likes the cold. Has been found asleep on the roof before. Has been found violently zoned-out to the point of near unconsciousness but not quite there on the roof before. She’s on the roof a lot.

Six is genderfluid and has every genderqueer person’s dream of shapeshifting. Will change their hair to bright colors when even lightly emotionally troubled. They also have ADHD. I’m self projecting onto characters again. Then again Six was based after me. So was Five. And Two’s based off of my sister.

Six hangs out around Red and her friends a lot. They’re a nervous disaster and scared they aren’t fitting the right requirements becuase they don’t match the aesthetic. Red and Co’ points to Hera, who dresses mainly in gold and white. Six points out that that’s still different and bright and they just dress very plainly. Red and Co’ point out that they can fucking shapeshift. This happens one or twice a week.

Five does theater. She’s very good at it. Have exactly one minute to change costumes? Nah, she’s gonna sit down to breathe, go over her lines, get a snack, get another snack, realize she’s wasted about an hours time and that she should probably actually change and get on with the play soon, eats another snack, unpauses time in her new outfit and gets on with the play, repeats the next time she gets off stage and needs a break.

The entire theater club or whatever at the school is aware of her powers, so if she seems to teleport but differently, she paused time.

She also does this for tests and things. Pauses time, go gets the answers, comes back, aces the test. It’s a very useful power to have.

Seven has several bones replaced with metal replicas of them. She hurt herself and couldn’t move that part of herself anymore so she was like “Just put some metal in there it’ll work” and it did.

Seven messes up microwaves so fucking often and no one’s actually sure why. I mean it’s obvious her metal powers but beyond that.

Three and Joshie will often have conversations where Three’s the one talking and Joshie’s just thinking at them. Three has to pretend they’re on the phone.

Joshie is Tall and Very strong. He could pick up Three and Fay at the same time before. Actually, he has. Multiple times.

Please do not let this give you the illusion he actually looks very strong or threatening or anything he looks very soft both in personality and clothing choice.

Joshie picked One up once and that was the day One realized he had a crush on him.

“Layla he picked me up like I weighed nothing Layla I think I’m in love”

“One please calm down doesn’t he do that to everyone?”

“YEAH HE DOES LAYLA, WHAT’S YOUR FUCKING POINT?”

The school they go to is called ‘Meadow Creek’ becuase I wanted something generic and my brain spit generic at me.

Four days into the schoolyear Four throws a party. Drama happens. What drama, you may be asking? I dunno, that’s all I’ve gotten so far, there’s a party and Drama happens.

Oh actually I do know one thing, Five somehow ends up sitting in the chandelier. That was the day Four stopped wondering if it could actually hold someone’s weight.

That’s literally all I have for the story so far, like, I’m trying to scrape more stuff off the top of my head, but there’s nothing. I’ve used it all up. That’s all I have for Numbers and Co’ right now.

I still haven’t decided what to call the story, right now the document is called ‘Ten’ because guess why, but also I don’t want it to seem like it’s all about Ten herself becuase they’re all the main characters.

‘Count to Ten’ maybe? I’m just sticking with calling it ‘Numbers’ for now though.

#I Was Asked Shit #Numbers