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itsthewritergal · 3 years

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Don’t you ever forget it - D.M x Weasley!Reader - (ODD ONE OUT)

Can’t believe we’re at part 5 already!! I hope everyone is enjoying this story :)

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

“How was dark arts?” Y/N asked Draco the moment he, Pansy and Blaise sat down on one of the plush leather sofas “Fine why?” Pansy asked “Come on!” She wined “I want to know it all, you got to see a Boggart today” She grinned tugging at Draco’s sleeve in an attempt to make him talk

“You’ve got your lesson tomorrow” Blaise said with a chuckle

“Please Draco” She said looking up at him expectantly “I’ll help you with your homework for a week” She asked hoping to sway him

“You’re a year below me darling, not sure you could be much help” He laughed opening his book and shrugging off his robe and tucking it gently around Y/N

“I’ve read all the care for magical creature books already. I bet I know more than you” Y/N said shaking off his robe with a huff “Lovers tiff?” Blaise grinned

“Don’t be stupid” Draco and Y/N snapped at the same time, then bursting into a fit of laughter

“Please Draco” Y/N said leaning into his side so that she could read the page he was on without having to strain her eyes

“What do you want to know?” Draco asked turning the page once Y/N had nodded to say that she was finished with it

“What was everyone’s boggart? What did you do? Was it difficult? Was it really scary or just a little bit? How do you say the spell prop—”She began

“Okay darling, slow down a little. You’re going to give me a headache” Draco laughed, placing his bookmark in gently closing the book. “Well Pansy’s was herself but she had lost all her wealth and clothes and her name,” Draco paused for a second “Blaise’s was Voldemort, and you just hold up your wand and say the spell, no it wasn’t difficult. It wasn’t too scary and it’s riddikulus” Draco answered his fingers finding a way into Y/N’s,

“What was your Boggart?” Y/N asked studying Draco’s face as it contorted into a small frown

“I think we should play some exploding snap?” Blaise suggested butting in

“But—” Y/N started

“Good idea” Draco said, Y/N knew the conversation was over.

Y/N played a few games with the others but then opted instead to curl up next to Draco reading his book, she flicked past the pages as they played on. Draco draped his robe back over Y/N, it had become a habit for him. Y/N knew he only did it because she constantly complained about being cold, yet she couldn’t help but wish there was another reason. Draco winced as his hand crashed down on the table jolting his other arm

“Maybe you should stop?” Y/N suggested “You look like you’re in pain” she said gently

“I’m alright” Draco insisted

“Do you have any of that stuff Madame Pomfrey gave you?” She asked

“Run out” Draco said gruffly

“Come on, it’s not curfew yet. I’ll come with you and get some more” Y/N suggested standing up, wrapping Draco’s robe around her shoulders.

“I can go alone” Draco suggested, looking down at the cozy looking girl

“No way! Who doesn’t love strolling around Hogwarts at night. Anyone would say this place is magical” She laughed heading towards the door as Draco said goodnight to his friends.

— — — —

There was barely anyone around a few older students laughing as they headed back to their dorms from the library, a few first years laughing loudly through the halls, but not many people at all.

“Can we walk the outside way? I know it’s longer but the stars are out tonight!” Y/N asked Draco excitedly

“Definitely” Draco agreed although it was only to see the way Y/N grinned up at the stars as she named all the constellations wrong, Draco had taught her a few but she swore that she knew all of them. She didn’t.

“That one looks like a fish” She laughed pointing up at the sky

“Thats the Bootes constellation darling” Draco said

“I know that one” She exclaimed pointing up to another group of stars “That one is Draco, you showed me that” She said

“You are right about that one” Draco grinned, it was one of his favourite memories of the two of them, it had been one of Y/N’s last nights before christmas and Draco had dragged her up to the Astronomy tower and showed her all the constellations he knew.

Y/N continued walking, they settled into a silence.

“Draco” Y/N started quietly as they reached the end of the courtyard

“Yes Y/N” Draco asked, Y/N turned onto the hallway where the hospital wing was

“What was your Boggart?” She said gently, looking up to Draco with kind eyes “I know Blaise cut in because you didn’t want to tell anyone, and if you don’t want to tell me thats fine but—”

“Maybe another day darling” Draco said quietly “It isn’t something I’m proud of” he admitted

“You don’t have to be ashamed with me” Y/N assured him with a firm smile

“I know, I will tell you one day. But not just yet okay?” Draco said knocking on the hospital wing door “Okay” Y/N smiled

“Mister Malfoy? Is that arm giving you trouble?” Madame Pomfrey asked

“A little” He started

“It’s more than a little, he’s just being stupid” Y/N said giving Draco a warning look for his lie

“Understood Miss Weasley, give me a minute” She said with a chuckle

“You know you shouldn’t lie when it’s hurting you” Y/N Said firmly to Draco

“That’s why I brought you along, you always know what I need to say” Draco grinned

“Does it hurt really bad?” Y/N asked her fingers tracing the sling which had been signed by all his friends. Y/N’s name was in the middle, where Draco had requested it to be.

“I’ve had worse” Draco laughed, Y/N frowned her mouth opening then closing as if she had decided against saying anything. Draco draped his good arm over her shoulder, pulling her into a half hug. Madame Pomfrey appeared again, and placed a vial into Draco’s hand, with a curt nod she turned and Draco and Y/N were left alone again.

“We better get back, we don’t want to get caught past curfew” Y/N said gently.

— — — — — —

“Now as you all already know, today we will be meeting our Boggart’s” Lupin said with a smile, Taylor nudged her elbow, grinning with excitement. Y/N stood towards the back of the class listening intently as Lupin explained the spell and the proper wand movements. Y/N followed along with the tutorial excited to finally find out what her true Boggart really was. She had her suspicions but she wanted to know for sure. Ginny was first the Boggart twisted with a whirling sound and turned into a black diary which lay open with the gruelling face of Voldemort above it, with a shaky voice Ginny spoke the incantation as the Boggart turned into the grinning clown that Y/N recognised from their shared bedroom. Ginny’s friends clapped her on the back, and she smiled proudly as she skipped towards the back of the class. The Boggart turned into spiders, clowns, and voldemort more times than anyone dared to remember, then Y/N stood in front of the black whirling shape.

In an instant the sorting hat sat in front of Y/N.

“You really are a true Slytherin, I never thought I’d see the day a Weasley was a Slytherin. You’re parents must be so disappointed” The hat sneered

“Remember the incantation Y/N” Lupin instructed but the words fell flat inside Y/N’s head

“This is why you don’t go to any family events, they’re ashamed of you. They all hate you. You’re a true Slytherin, destined for evil”

“riddikulus” Y/N said her voice barely above a whisper

“You can do this Y/N” Lupin said gently “Once more”

“Riddikulus” Y/N said stronger this time and the hat spun and turned into the night sky filled with stars, the same one which Y/N and Draco saw last night.

“Well done” Lupin clapped as Y/N moved towards the back of the class, the Gryffindor girls giggled as she stepped towards her sister who turned her back on Y/N.

“Even her boggart knows exactly what she is” One girl snapped, Y/N picked up her books from the desks which had been pushed towards the back of the class and slipped out of the door. Professor Lupin decided against making a bigger deal of what he knew was a sensitive topic.

— — — —

Y/N hadn’t spoke to anyone, not even Draco. She sat picking at her food on the plate in front of her. Draco kept trying to pull conversation out of her but he wasn’t having any luck. Her Boggart had been the topic of conversation on all the house tables, it wasn’t often someone had to live with their worst fear everyday but of course Y/N Weasley was hardly normal.

“Y/N, do you have a minute?” Lupin asked tapping her gently on the shoulder, she nodded and followed him out of the Great Hall. The hallways were practically empty as Lupin lead Y/N down to his office, making small talk which Y/N didn’t feel the need to respond to. She wasn’t trying to be rude, she was just trying to hold her pieces together. Lupin’s office could only be described as comfy, he had two warn down armchairs which he sat himself down in, and gestured to the other one where Y/N sat tucking her legs underneath her and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“I’m sorry” Lupin said,

“What for? I don’t understand Professor” She said

“Having to live your fears every day. That takes some courage and extreme strength” He said with a warm smile, the kind of smile Y/N had seen on her mothers face when she spoke to Y/N’s siblings

“It’s fine, the Boggart got it wrong” Y/N said, she had half convinced herself it was true

“It’s okay, you don’t have to worry about playing part in here. Slytherin isn’t a bad house you know” “How can you say that?” Y/N asked

“You choose your own path, good or bad. A smelly, old hat doesn’t get to tell you whether you are evil or good,” Y/N let out a little laugh “I had a friend when I was at hogwarts, who’s entire family was in Slytherin and he was put into Gryffindor. He did everything he could to trick the teachers, his parents even his friends into thinking that the hat got it wrong, but it never worked. He was one of the greatest wizards I ever knew”

“But he was in Gryffindor, I’d rather it was that way round” She huffed “Everyone thinks I’m evil”

“Come on Y/N do you really think that of yourself? That you’re evil? That you’re destined to turn to voldemort”

“No” She said quietly,

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“How do you do it?” Y/N asked quietly

“do what?” Lupin asked blankly

“I know what you are, how do you cope with the prejudice” She said gently “I know it’s a little different with your condition and mine but how do you do it?” “You have to know exactly who you are and what you stand for” Lupin said with a smile “How did you find out?” He asked curiously

“Charlie gave me a book on werewolves when I was younger, I noticed it after the first full moon. I haven’t told anyone so don’t worry”

“You’re a very smart witch Y/N Weasley. Don’t you ever forget it”

Y/N stood up and left feeling a little bit taller than she had before.

Taglist :)

@whitewineandpizzapuffs

@planet-naptune

@thefandomplace

@sebby-staan

@witch-and-a-half

@nojamsonmytoast

@seanh-boredom

@wanniiieeee

@louweasleymalfoy

@missryerye

Odd one out taglist

@loxbbg

#Draco #draco malfoy fic #draco lucius malfoy #draco angst #Draco Malfoy #odd one out #draco x reader angst #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x weasley #draco x reader

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 4 years

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When the Chips are Down

Chapter 12 - AO3

Marinette had long since accepted that, to prevent akumatization, she needed surefire ways to calm herself down. The risk of Hawkmoth’s victory was too high if she allowed herself to get too panicky, or too angry, or too scared—

But the average person couldn’t keep their cool all the time. It wasn’t feasible. And, Ladybug or not, Marinette was still an average girl.

The best method she found was the one-minute rule. All she had to do was allow herself to experience the full emotion for a minute, doing whatever came to mind to express the emotion—panicking, yelling, throwing her bag across the room—before wrapping the feeling up tight and forcing herself to relax.

So she only gave herself a minute to deal with Adrien Agreste. Fortunately, a minute was all she needed… and all he could handle.

********************************************************

Adrien flinched at her scorching tone, stepping back as she stepped forward to deal with him. “Marinette—”

“First of all, you don’t get to decide if someone has made Ladybug and Chat Noir’s lives harder. Last I checked, you are neither of them! Ladybug and Chat Noir have never complained about civilians, either the akumatized or anyone else; the only person they have on record complained about is Hawkmoth, which they have a solid right to do so.”

“W-Wait, Mari—”

“Secondly, it is never a civilian’s fault that someone got akumatized!” She jabbed a finger in Adrien’s face. She could feel Felix’s shock. “The only person at fault is Hawkmoth, so don’t you ever blame Felix for something that man caused!

“Third, even if people could be blamed for causing an akuma, there are far worse people you could put your blame on. Like, for example, Chloe, your childhood friend who has been involved with nearly all of our classmates akumatizations, and even some of their relatives.” Her grin was sharp. “So, it’s a good thing we don’t blame people for getting others akumatized, right Adrien?”

“Marinette, that’s not—”

“And finally—” She breathed deep and exhaled loudly, forcing out the rage along with it. “I am sick and tired of whatever this—” She gestured between the two boys—“is. You’re cousins, and sure, you don’t get along, I can understand that. I don’t like my cousins that much ether. But this? Your constant snipping, the regular assassination of Felix’s character…” She sighed and blinked away unshed tears. “It’s too much.”

“I haven’t been snipping at him!”

“It’s true, you don’t do it nearly as often as he does.” She glanced at Felix, who tried to look innocent. “And I tell him off for it. But you’re the one who said that if Felix lost something, it means he doesn’t care about it. You’re the one who said he makes Ladybug’s job harder. You start things, Adrien.”

“I don’t!” Adrien denied. “B-Besides, even if I did, you don’t know what he’s like when we’re alone. He’s cruel, Marinette.”

“Are you sure about that?” She challenged. “Because Adrien, Felix has been a lot better about his behavior recently. You haven’t seen it because you don’t bother spending time with him, but there’s no need to constantly defame him.”

“But he caused that akuma on the anniversary—”

“And that was a really mean thing to do, I understand that, Adrien.” She glared. “But whatever happened to the high road?”

He stepped back.

“Because based on your actions, either you think your own cousin isn’t worth the high road approach, or you never thought very highly of it to begin with.” She crossed her arms. “So which is it?”

He shot her a frustrated look. “Marinette, this isn’t about Felix. This is about you two conspiring to humiliate Lila!”

“Would you prefer she humiliate us instead?” Felix asked, mirroring her pose. He nodded at her. “Because that’s what Rossi tries to do. She makes up her little lies, she gets the class worked up into a frenzy, and points them at us. She wants your ‘good friend’ to be miserable, Adrien.”

“She just… wants friends. Hurting her isn’t going to change anything.”

“But coddling her is only going to make things worse.”

“She’s not hurting anyone.”

She shot Adrien a glare. “You can say that when you’re the one who’s losing their friends because of Lila. But I don’t want to hear a word from you until that happens.”

“Marinette, it’s just a misunderstanding!” Adrien said. “Look, Alya has been really worried about you since you started hanging out with Felix—”

“If Alya is worried, she can say it to me herself. Neither of us need you to interfere on our behalf.” If Alya had something to say, she could say it to Marinette’s face instead of ghosting her for the past month. Marinette hadn’t hear anything from her best friend, not even a request to help babysit or an order from the bakery.

“Marinette—” Adrien reached out to touch her, but she stepped away.

“I’m going home. Don’t you have to go home too?” Adrien winced and Marinette tried not to feel terrible about it. She turned away. “Bye, Adrien.”

“Marinette, wait—”

She left, Felix following her out of the school. Adrien tried to go with them, but his bodyguard caught him the moment he stepped out of school and took him back to Agreste mansion. Marinette caught Felix smirking as they watched Adrien drive away. A horrible, unrelenting ache opened up in her chest. “Well, I think you handled that quite well—”

“Felix? No offence, but I don’t really want to hear it right now.”

“Marinette?”

“I know you said something about celebrating before, but I’m not feeling good. I… Can you leave me alone? Just for a little bit?” Dark clouds swirled overhead, the threat of rain looming as Marinette casted her eyes to the heaven, then back down at Felix.

His expression was unreadable, but he nodded. “Very well. Would you like me to inform the school you’re sick? So you can stay home longer.”

“That’s really nice of you, Felix. Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, Marinette.” He smiled, a rare treat on a face used to smirks. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Yeah… I hope so too.”

Marinette went home, bypassing her parents, to her bedroom filled with reminders of Adrien. His photos were pasted to her walls, his schedule hanging from her ceiling, his presents in her chest. A single tear streaked down her cheek as another shard of heartbreak pierced her heart.

She felt a little hand on her arm. “Marinette?”

A sob caught in her throat as she savagely beat the emotion down. “Tikki—” Her voice the barest whisper—“I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

Because Adrien, the one she loved, was… against her. It was the only way she could describe it. He had looked at her side and looked at Lila’s and chosen to support a liar, but he thought she was the one in the wrong for… what? Fighting back? Having Felix on her side? She absently wondered if he would support her if she abandoned Felix, since he hates Felix so much, and cringed at the thought. Another example to add to the pile. How could she even consider abandoning a friend just to get Adrien to like her? Who does that?

Marinette does, apparently.

“I don’t like the person I am when I’m in love with Adrien,” she confessed, looking down at her kwami. “I don’t like how he becomes the center of my world. I don’t like how I compromise my morals to make him happy.” Because that’s why she tried to follow the high road: to make him happy. “I… I don’t want to love him anymore, Tikki.”

The kwami hugged her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to like anyone you don’t want to. You just need to let him go.”

The ache in her heart tripled. “How?” she gasped, crying more freely.

Tikki spent the rest of the afternoon guiding her. First, a meditation session to calm her down. Next, she and Tikki went through every present she planned to one day give Adrien, carefully unwrapped each one, and decided what to do with them. Marinette didn’t want them around the house—the memories of her intentions would still be there—so they planned to give them to a thrift store that weekend. She deleted her collage background on her computer. The schedule was then scrubbed clean, the sharpie coming off the laminated paper with hand sanitizer, and Marinette was forced to remember each and every thing she had done to get that information. She was almost crying again at the end, this time with shame.

Finally, the photos. She remembered the hours she’d spent pouring over magazines and the internet. Outside of the few group shots he was in, every picture she had of him was heavily photoshopped. She pulled them off the walls, one by one. This one has most of his smile, she thought, and this one didn’t change his face, but he looked so tired…

She didn’t know why she had these photos. It seemed rational at the time, but… a lot of things seemed rational when she was trying to make him like her. So she placed them in a prototype of her diary box and let Tikki hide it.

“Goodbye, Adrien.” The words were final, but seemed necessary. She couldn’t like him anymore, not if she wanted to stay alive.

The next morning, she woke up feeling like she’d been wrung out. For once she was on time, her mind too anxious to allow her to sleep long. She met Felix at the door to school.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, leading her inside.

She hesitated. “…A bit. But I’ll get better soon. Tikki smiled encouragingly at her from inside her purse. “Did I miss anything?”

“Just another one of Rossi’s temper tantrums.” He rolled his eyes as they walked into the locker room. “Honestly, I have to wonder about her parents if that’s what she considers acceptable behavior. Anyway, I got your notes and—” His voice caught in his throat, cutting off with an inelegant croak as his eyes widened. Marinette followed his gaze and her mouth dropped open.

There was a small crowd surrounding her locker. Written on it in red spray paint was the word “Skank”. Marinette approached it, her mind disassociating and distant from what she was seeing, and opened it. Everything in it was coated in the same paint, ruining the few textbooks and decorations inside. She reached out and touched it. Stone dry.

“Someone get a teacher!” Felix’s furious voice broke her from her trance. He had never sounded angry before. His emerald eyes glinted as he glared at the crowd. “Which one of you did this!?” he demanded. “This is destruction of private property!” She could feel everyone staring at her. Did they think she deserved this? Did they pity her? Did they—

“M. Graham de Vanily, stop shouting.” Mme. Mendeleive was the teacher summoned. “Now, what exactly is going on here—” She stopped, seeing the damage done. Her lips thinned. “Marinette, are you okay?”

“I…” She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. “I don’t…”

“I think she’s in shock, Mme. Mendeleive,” Felix said.

Mme. Mendeleive nodded, concern clear on her face. “Take her to the nurses office. I’ll figure out what happened here.”

Felix was trying to usher her out of room when something clattered to the ground. A can of red spray paint rolled across the floor and bumped into her foot. Marinette picked it up; it was the same shade as the paint on her locker.

Alya, who at just opened her locker only for the can to fall out, stared at it in dread. “Marinette—” her eyes searched Marinette’s— “Girl, you know I didn’t—”

“Alya…?” Did Alya… did she do it…? Tears flowed. Why would she… And Marinette remembered yesterday, remembered making Alya fail, and gritted her teeth. “Alya, how could you?”

She flinched back, betrayal on her face. “Girl, you know me! I would never—I have never seen that can before in my life!”

And now she was lying to her!? Marinette turned away. “Save it, Alya.” Her voice hitched with a sob. She didn’t want to hear anything Alya had to say. She handed the can to Mme. Mendeleive and ran.

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maibi · 3 years

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Dying

Dabi x reader

Warnings: kinda an open ending, sick!reader (pancreas problems), a little bit of cursing, sad topics T_T Might contain a certain spoiler about Dabi’s past.

Summary: based on the story ‘I want to eat your pancreas’ but with my own twists here and there. You were sick and Dabi was able to manage you just fine. He was not the caring type, but maybe he changed a little because of you. Teenager! Dabi and teenager! Reader. (Honestly I really recommend you read the light novel of I want to eat your pancreas, cuz holy shit that thing made me feel so many emotions at once)

“It’s your fault for finding my diary, I didn’t tell you to pick it up”, you said as you were happily walking behind Touya while he clearly told you to stop following him. “I mean who does that? Opening the diary of a stranger? You must have been pretty curious, hm.”

“I opened it because I had to find to owner, no more to the story. And why are you still following me? It’s been three weeks since that incident, get over it”, Touya said annoyed.

“Because, my dear Dabi”, you said as you quickened your steps so that you were in front of him, walking backwards with your face pointing his way. “You were the one that found my diary AND you’re the only one who doesn’t give a shit that I’m dying.”

“First of all, I told you not to call me Dabi anymore and second of all, why are you happy that I don’t care about your death? Aren’t you like, supposed to be sad about that?”

“Ah dear Dabi”, you said again, to work on his nerves, ”you do not understand the brain of a dying person.”

Ever since you found out he had a nickname for his online games, you decided to call him by that name whenever you tried to annoy him. He told you not to use it, but if he really hated it that much, he could have put effort onto stopping you. But he didn’t.

“I thought you had pancreas problems, not brain damage”, he said. You weren’t sure if he was being serious or not, but you being you, you didn’t really care about that stuff. You just spoke your mind.

“I mean, my brain does hurt ever since I met you, but my pancreas is really the one with issues”, you said.

Your first encounter with Touya was in school. Though both of you never really said anything to each other you did see each other quite often. Your real encounter, the one that made both of you talk to each other, was the one in the hospital. You had left your diary on a seat and Touya had picked it up. Because he wanted to know who it belonged to, he had read a part of your story. A story that was only meant for you to read and for other’s to see after your death. A kind of gift you wanted to leave behind for your loved ones.

Ever since then you just kind of stuck to him, not caring what others might think. You had a bubbly personality anyways, people would just assume it was you being nice again. You realized that he didn’t treat you any different ever since he got to know your truth that you had been hiding, the fact you were slowly dying because of your pancreas. And because of that realization you just knew he would be the perfect person to be around with. He didn’t really liked your company all the time and he wasn’t ashamed to tell you, but he never shut you out meaning he probably didn’t mind your presence that much.

“Funny. You know what would be more fun, if you actually left me alone”, he said as he grabbed you by the shoulders and lightly pushed you aside. He quickened his steps and tried to get rid of you. But you were a dedicated person and you would get what you wanted.

“Do you have plans for Saturday?”, you boldly asked.

“Besides reading, no”, he casually answered as you kept walking behind him. You had noticed that he had started walking faster, so you also spend up .

You took a small sprint so that you were walking in front of him again. You stopped walking and turned around. When you did that he stopped in track, looking confused at you. You raised both eyebrows and laughed. He hadn’t caught on and it was pretty funny to see that. “That means you’re free to hang with me, am I correct?”

You knew he couldn’t lie for his life, and that he couldn’t make up an excuse to not spend a day with you. His face scrunched when he realized he had fallen in your trap. You started laughing loudly. “I’ll meet you at the station at 1 p.m. Be on time, you wouldn’t want to make a girl wait now do you?”

He shook his head while closing his eyes. You could tell he wasn’t the happiest about it, because in the end you had stolen his free day. He was the type of person to not be that active. He didn’t like doing stuff, or going out. He liked to spend his days inside with a book or by playing games. Even while playing his games he wasn’t interested in teaming up with others so he always played solo. You laughed at him for it, but he called it independence.

He let out a sigh as he walked past you. “Don’t forget! You refused to give me your number so I won’t be able to remind you through text!”

He stopped walking and took his bag off of his shoulder. He opened his bag, but you weren’t able to see what he was doing. He zipped his bag closed and threw it over his shoulder. He walked in your direction as you tilted your head to the side, looking questionable. When he was in front of you he stuck a sticky note on your forehead. Without saying another word he turned around and left.

You took the sticky note and read what was on there. It was his number. You knew he wouldn’t forget about the so called date, but he still gave you his number meaning he probably enjoyed your presence. “Dabi Boy so cute!” You screamed to annoy him one last time.

“Don’t call me that!”, he screamed in monotone, not even looking back.

You laughed to yourself as you looked at his phone number. you started jumping around while screaming a little bit, making some people turn their faces in your direction. But you didn’t care, you were happy and the world could know this.

You excitedly saved his number on your phone and directly texted him.

“Sick girl texting, bet this is Dabi Boy!”

“I will end your bloodline if you call me Dabi Boy again.”

“So harsh Touya! That makes me sad.”

You didn’t get a response, but you weren’t really expecting one. He was the type of person to only text back when he really felt the need to, but in this situation it wasn’t really necessary.

You were excited when Saturday arrived. You had texted Touya in the morning telling him you’d wait for him. But you being the problematic teenager that you were, came late on purpose. You could feel it, he would call you out for being late because you had told him to not make you wait.

You happily hopped your way towards Touya, who was sitting on a bench with a book in his hand. You plopped next to him and grabbed his arm to get his attention. “So. What’s the planning?”, you asked.

“First of all, you are 20 minutes late and second of all you are the one that set the date so I was expecting you to make the planning”, he said while trying to pull hiss arm away.

“Aha! The answer I expected, but my dear Dabi, that’s not the way to my heart. Try again next time. As for now, I did make a planning so you’ll have to following me”, you happily said.

Of course this wasn’t a date to you guys. He knew this and so did you, that’s why he didn’t feel the need to answer on your remark. it’s not like he wasn’t your type or that he wasn’t interesting at all, it was just that you couldn’t really attach yourself to someone when death was so near to you. Though it was hard, to not feel anything at all.

You allowed yourselves to enjoy today. From walking in the park to eating at an all you can eat restaurant and filling yourselves until you couldn’t even walk anymore. You did everything to enjoy your day and looking at the fact that Touya wasn’t complaining you were sure he was having at least a little bit fun.

“Hmm, what about love interest? What is your type? Or what kind of girls do you fall for, if your interests are limited to girls”, you smugly said.

“Never thought about it”, he just casually said as the both of you walked on the beach with your shoes in your hands.

“Boring”, you sang. “Is there really no girl in class that you think is cute? Come on there has to be at least one person.

“I don’t really pay attention to people I don’t want to engage with. But if I really have to give you an answer, I do think you look cute”, he said without a pause in his sentence.

You felt your face heat up and even if he got at least a little bit embarrassed, he didn’t show it at all. You acted like it didn’t effect you and casually shook it off. “I mean of course you think I’m cute, I look amazing”, you said as you walked in front of him while cupping your face with your hands while you stared at him.

It wasn’t really the best idea to be walking backwards with your instability. Before you knew it you were stumbling over your own feet, but before you could hit the ground Touya had you in his arms to stop you from falling.

You blinked twice, and again, and again. He did exactly the same, shocked about his fast reflexes. He pulled you up, but removed his hands from around your waist the moment you were stable on your both feet. He started walking without another word and cleared his throat.

“Thank you”, you muttered.

There was a long silence while the both of you walked. The sun was setting and you just silently followed behind him. He didn’t slow down for you and you didn’t speed up for him. You followed the steps he left in the sand and noticed how much bigger his feet were. A small laugh escaped your mouth and he confusingly turned around.

“What are you laughing about”, he said. If a random person had told you that same sentence in that tone you would have taken it offensive, but because it was Touya talking you didn’t take it serious.

“Your big toe really is… big”, you said.

He looked at you with a concerned look on his face and that made you laugh even more.

“I mean, that’s why it’s called the big toe?”, he annoyingly said. “You really search for the smallest details to make fun of me don’t you?”

“Well it’s easy to annoy you and your reactions are always priceless. Plus you’re never really offended when I call you out for stuff, that makes it all the more enjoyable. To put it shortly, you’re just able to keep up with my bullshit.”

“God, why must I have been the chosen one. She is crazy”, he said while looking up.

You were quite shocked to see this reaction. He wasn’t the type to say things like this in a sarcastic way. He wasn’t even a person that used sarcasm. So when he said that he kinda just caught you off guard. “He has chosen the words of sarcasm”, you said as if it was a miracle. “You make me prouder with every passing day.”

He looked you dead in the eye, but failed to keep a straight face. You could tell he showed a lot of emotions to you today. You finally understood how his raising eyebrows and slightly widening eyes meant he was excited about something, or how his face tilted up a bit when he had won an argument with you. You were proud to say that you were the reason behind all those expressions and you were happy to have experienced them with him.

You knew deep down that you actually liked him, but telling him would cause a problem. Besides the fact that it could ruin the friendship you had, it could also ruin the fact that he did not care about your death. It was a treasure you held. He was the only one that wouldn’t get sad when your death was mentioned and he was the only one that didn’t judge you for living this way. You didn’t want to loose that. But yet in a way it felt like he didn’t care at all. It felt like your death would mean absolutely nothing to him

He didn’t say anything on that, because he felt the same. He never knew he needed this. He never knew that opening up would lead to him feelings things that not even his books could give him. He was just clueless to those feelings. Calling you cute, was nothing out of the ordinary for him, because for him it was just a fact that could be know, and a not a secret that should be held.

“Oh, let’s watch the sunset there”, you pointed at a place on a rock that was hidden away from the public. He looked at you once before looking at that place. you started walking that way when you received a not of approval from him. “I bet it’ll look amazing”, you excitedly said. “It’s not everyday I get to watch the sunset with you.”

He didn’t budge on your flirting attempt, but looking at his slight rosy cheeks told you you had succeeded in whatever it was that you were trying to get out of him.

The both of you sat on the rock with your face pointed to the view. It was beautiful and it was a good way to end the day. Reflecting on your day with him was something that made you smile. You were able to get the best out of him. The person that did not like taking pictures, allowed you to take selfies with him. The person that was so called emotionless had rosy cheeks when you failed at a flirting attempt. You had seen him smile and laugh. You seen the confusion on his face whenever he didn’t understand something and it was heartwarming in your opinion, because he felt comfortable enough to show you all these emotions.

But here was something you had noticed. Something you had been thinking about, but never brought up. He didn’t talk about you dying for even a little bit. Whenever you brought up the subject, he tried to shake it off. You were confused, but didn’t question it. You were keeping a lot to yourself too so he probably had his reasons.

You tried to lay down on your back as you looked at the dark blue sky, stars almost visible, but just not yet. “Have you ever had your first kiss?”, you asked.

“Nope”, he replied.

“Pathetic”, you said.

“Did you?”, he asked without looking at you.

“Well I wouldn’t call you pathetic if I hadn’t kissed before”, you shrugged,”so yeah I’ve had my first kiss.”

He didn’t respond to that. “Why do you never talk about me dying”, you said.

He saw him tense up, but he didn’t respond. perhaps he didn’t feel the need to answer this, but you didn’t like it. of course it was good that he wasn’t feeling bad about it, but the least he could do was worry.

“I mean, it’s okey to talk about it from time to time, I don’t really mind. I just hoped that you cared at least a little bit. I know I told you that I didn’t like it when people got sad when they saw me, but I feel comfortable around you so I want you to at least care about me and my condition”, you said, in a soft voice.

You had never spoken this silently or with this many sad emotions. You had felt him turn around, but you didn’t look up. He was squatted down in front of you and he tilted your head up with his fingers. His actions shocked you, but he didn’t seem budged by it.

“I do care about you and I do get sad when I think about your future. But because of that I don’t talk about you dying. Because I don’t want you to be reminded of that while you are with me. I want you to only remember good memories when you are with me. So I rather didn’t want to open that conversation. But if you really thought I didn’t car, you are wrong. I care too much”, he said.

He just looked at you with soft eyes and you didn’t know what to respond. Instead of responding, you did something you hadn’t expected. Something that even left you in shock.

You kissed him. And strangely, he kissed you back as if knowing that this was about to happen.

When the both of you pulled away, you had tears falling down your cheeks. “What if I told you I was actually afraid of dying? What would you say?”

His hands were still resting on your cheeks. “I will stay right here with you until the end. I have no intention of leaving.”

#dabi #dabi todoroki #touya #toua todoroki #todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi mha #dabi bnha #dabi imagine #dabi x y/n #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha

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a-life-lesson-in-submission · 3 years

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Inside a Submissives Soul

Dear Diary -

Our meet this time seemed to fly by. It was short, only a couple of hours or so but time well invested nonetheless, I am certainly not complaining. As long as I get to see Sir M at the very least, I am happy.

He pulls off the smart look very well indeed, he always looks good anyhow. Me, well, not so much, simple figure hugging jeggings and vest top, he doesn't seem to object. I beat him to our Hello greeting, my arms over his shoulders, around his neck, his arms around my middle, pulling eachother in close. He sits and sits me over his lap side on, legs up and teases me with alittle spanking. He's spanked me much harder before, I knew he was being fairly gentle. The led lights above us seemed bright and dazzling, he suggests I reach the switch my toes, we both know I can't reach it so he lifts me to try that way but I cheat and use a finger. Our conversation generally lighthearted with smiles between us both. He really knows how to get on my level and everything feels so natural.

I am to stand, him firmly caressing at my body brings a warmth, not just over her, over my whole body, I am tingling already. Facing away from him, he is behind me, feeling around, he reaches round lowering my top then easing the girls out to begin tweaking and pinching. He makes me twitch and my insides churn over itself. Bringing me around to face him, I am guided to sit, him over me, he doesn't need to assert his strength, I can smell it, I can see it, I can feel it.

He unbuckles himself, I feel myself grin ear to ear thinking, 'oh yes, I get to play with his big boy, yum'. My tongue tickles him alittle, I plant a few kisses along him before I take him between my lips, he slides in towards the back end of my throat. I really enjoy giving, I really enjoy how he fills my mouth and sits nicely in my throat. I can hold my breath for a reasonable time before I need to adjust alittle. More than enjoying every second of feeling him throb against my tongue, knowing he is enjoying himself too. Sometimes gripping my hair, sometimes alittle controlled guidance, mostly leaving me to enjoy him, I'd notice his breathing would change every now and again. He expressed he liked it as much as I thought, at one point I thought he was going relieve himself over my tongue but he had other plans.

It was time to take everything off from the waist down and kneel on the seat infront of him, exposing her and my peach to him. Feeling the cool smooth lubrication between his fingers and my backdoor, my immediate twitch enlightens him. I'm ready for him, he proceeds to ease himself into me. I push back alittle to assist with accommodating his size feeling him fill me. Whichever hole he is in feels wonderful but as yet he had not entered this one with his member. I braced my arms infront of me to give me strength keeping myself steady with his hands wandering, holding, firmly gripping and groping. He felt amazing and I'm pretty certain I heard him say wow. He is impressed with my tightness, I am thrilled he is too, as he also impresses me in many ways. Our pace quickens, it doesn't take long for bodies to become soaked, a few times he says to slow down. Between our fast heated thrusts and our slow taunting strokes he tells me he is going to release, what he actually said was filled with profanities. I return the response with slight giggle, pushing back ready for his load. His release feels powerful, the effect ripples through me, he keeps his rhythm even after he has emptied himself. I will one day return his release with mine too. Coming to a point of us needing to move, he is very calm in his removal, I still twitch, he still finds this amusing.

Turning to share a kiss, we are dripping head to toe, he tells me to stand in the shower, I do and he rinses me over to cool down. Although it was a few minutes, it feels nice to have someone care enough to take the time to freshen up, nurturing throughout. We switched places, I stood watching him with, smiling, he is really something else, I can't help but admire and adore him. Drying off, both bare, he sits and prompts me to sit with him. I straddle him, we are chest to chest, face to face, our embrace soft, kind and alittle romantic. Holding, touching, hugging, kissing whilst sharing conversation. I really feel deeply connected in these moments. Yes I always feel connected to him, this reinforces the chemistry on an emotional level as well as physically.

We check the time, it's getting close to reality again. I am turned around so we can adjust ourselves, he massages my spine, I struggle with pain at times and he is very attentive to keeping me free from it. Very caring, such a gentleman. He pulls me back into him, wrapping his arms around me, I feel so safe. I can't help but smile with my fingers tracing his skin. He teases alittle here and there, he seemed mindful that I have not released but I am ok with it, he was more than helpful a couple of days prior even though I could feel my excitement below.

Our talks continue further, awaiting the alarm to notify us that reality awaits. The conversation felt honest and deep for me, I wanted to understand his concept around 'love', I know, dangerous territory to cover. Talking about intimacy, how meaningful it is and that it is easily lost. Our shared intimacy feels secure, true and special. His views are interestingly informative, I am grateful he was open to discuss it alittle, he gives alot to people and to the world, he is quite selfless and intellectual. He seems to carry a lot of weight on his shoulders but not the type that wears you down in time, he is good at whatever he does, you don't find many people like him in the world and I'm extrenely privileged to have him in my life. Our times together are important and I want to have these moments for as long as we can.

I am telling myself... Do Not Fall... A question that lingers that I do not yet know how to ask him is how can I give my submission if I feel I need certain emotions to be present on both sides? It is not something I have mentioned before, it's context can be rather vein, vague and complicated at the best of times. Also, it's been like 5 minutes and I already feel like I've known him a lifetime. I am foolish in believing it is possible to feel so strongly pretty much immediately. I am not good at judging or gaging people, never have been and usually thats how I end up getting hurt in some way. I can't listen to my mind and I can't follow my heart, my gut is usually the one thing I can count on and it isn't exactly helping my thought process stay level headed at the moment. I know he cares, he may not say what I sometimes feel I need to hear or in the way I expect to hear but his actions do speak loudly and they prove so much, that's got to be enough surely?

I don't know how he does it, he can just look at me and I feel myself surrender to him completely. Sir M makes me incredibly happy, not just as Sir, we've barely scratched the surface in the play world, him as an individual, his pure being. He said to me once via email he wants to know the very depth of my soul. I want to know the very depth of his soul too.

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

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The Pretender Next Door Part 2 Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Warning: Swearing. Summary: Lying is despicable, but nothing beats the humiliation of pretending you have a lovely boyfriend when, in fact, you have none. Could your handsome neighbor help you, though? Words: 2138. Part 1 _____________________________________ It went better you thought it would. Your colleagues were mostly friendly and open, your work environment seemed both interesting and challenging enough, and living in the new apartment was comfortable and pretty peaceful. Well, that man from the 5th floor was singing songs from Bridget Jones Diary on Friday mornings really loudly, but you were an early bird, so you didn’t care, truly. You hadn’t seen Steve much, though it was more an advantage rather than not. He wasn’t bringing any girls into his apartment, and it really bothered you. Worse, he wasn’t bringing any boys either. Your last hope was that Steve belonged to some kind of swingers club or something and had orgies in a different place.

Swingers club? Damn, girl. This man was making you crazy.

You did your best to forget about that perfection of a man living next door. You needed to build your life from scratch in this mad city of New York, and having relationships now was not on your list. In fact, it had never been.

One busy month had already passed when you got a chance to talk to Steve again. You were stepping inside the elevator, tired after work. Next week you were organizing a big holiday party for employees, and things were going more and more stressful with each day. It turned out that way more people had allergies they didn’t state previously, most of them new employees like you, and you had to adjust the menu; then that band your VP of Marketing wanted to have suddenly asked more money than you discussed before, and…

Well, event planning was always like that. Why complaining now when you spend all those years in college and then decided to move to NY? It was predictable. What was unpredictable was you lying to your married colleagues that you had a boyfriend. Why on Earth did you say that? Yes, it was a bit embarrassing to be the only woman who wasn’t in a relationship, but did you ultimately have to lie about it? It was so stupid and childish. Surely, there were more than one single woman in New York.

Anyway, you had a bottle of white wine and Netflix movies waiting for you at home. You would deal with everything else later, including your imaginary boyfriend.

“Wait, please!”

You snapped out of your thoughts and immediately pressed a button to leave the doors open, and the next second Steve almost flew inside the elevator. Oh, was he just in front of you and you hadn’t seen him again? Seriously, you needed to put yourself together.

“Hello.” You smiled a bit shyly and pressed another button to get the elevator moving.

He looked as handsome as always in his dark blue jacket and… oh God, he could wear nothing at all and still looked like a prince. No clothes at all would be far more preferable…

“Hello.” His glowing smile made it hard to keep your eyes off his face.

Nonono, just stop staring and keep your eyes down. You had enough things on your plate already, there was no place left for a giant sun named Steve Rogers who would indeed burn you to ashes the same second you decide to come closer.

“So, are we going the same floor?” He suddenly asked. Wait, did he forget you literally lived next door?

“Um, yes.”

Steve scratched the back of his head; for a few seconds he seemed lost in thought. You decided to drop it. Maybe he had a bad memory or something.

“Oh, I get it, you probably visiting my new neighbor.” He just grinned through those perfectly white teeth.

What? Did he already forget he spent at least half an hour in your hallway repairing your bookshelf? Just how bad was his memory if he didn’t recognize your face, for God’s sake? Well, anyway, if you wanted him to have a flaw, you had to be happy he got one. Better than being a secret swinger, wasn’t it?

“Actually, I am your new neighbor.” You let out an awkward laugh and stared at your pretty kitten heels shoes you bought before leaving Key West. Why were you upset? You just thought about not getting into relationship with anyone. Besides, you doubted you had a chance to date Steve Rogers even if New York’s female population would be five times smaller its actual size.

Lost in your thoughts again, you missed his immediate change of expression, his face completely red with embarrassment and shame.

“God, I’m an idiot with a fish’s memory span.” He groaned and looked somewhere up, shutting his eyes for a few seconds. “I’m so sorry! I mean, of course I remember you, Y/N, it just, ugh, you know… you just look a bit different and… Jesus Christ, I’m gonna say something stupid again, aren’t I?.. Just, ugh, sorry.”

With the guilt all over his pretty face he reminded you of a puppy who ate someone’s shoe, and you chuckled. It wasn’t as bad as you though, he still remembered your name. It was true you were different comparing to the day he met you – you were wearing way more makeup, including bright lipstick, to look older for your colleagues who were in their 40s and 50s. You also had a nice New Look black dress, and your hair were curled. Although you did not expect to look so different to others, maybe Steve simply didn’t take a closer look at your face that time?

And you could still take it as his flaw. Not bad enough, but still something!

“Don’t worry, you only saw me two times in your life.” You laughed it off and stepped out of the elevator once the doors were open. “Now if you see here a grumpy old woman with Ikea bags please remember the way I looked today.”

Steve followed you into a narrow corridor and burst out laughing, his face slowly losing its funny redness. You suspected he still felt kind of guilty, but he tried to keep it cool when you bid him goodbye and entered your apartment.

Thinking of any other possible flaws he might have, you took off your shoes and threw you bag on the comfy grey sofa in the middle of the room. You were finally home. Now you could change into your favorite blue pyjamas and fluffy slippers, take off your makeup and have some good time watching your favorite romcoms. Although you didn’t have anything for dinner, you could easily order something like a nice pizza or lasagna from that family-owned pizzeria around the corner.

The next hour you spent in a tub, washing away your worries. One was still there though: what were you supposed to do with your imaginary boyfriend? Your biggest issue was that your colleagues asked you to bring him to the party. Of course, they thought it was a nice gesture since they often brought their own husbands and boyfriends, but now they just made your life way more difficult. Even if you could say your boyfriend got sick or something at the day of the event, what then? Thankfully, no one demanded to see your photos yet, but they could. And they might ask you to bring him to dinners they had altogether sometimes, and God knows what else.

You were stupid enough to make up some super romantic story about a perfect guy any girl would like to date. It was embarrassing to think of it now, but you definitely got affected by the marriage stories of your colleagues who spent the whole lunch hour talking about their lovely husbands. Your problem was you tried to fit in too much.

Well, you probably had to come up with something about breaking up once you moved to NY. Funny, because your “boyfriend” was living here and waiting for you for a year to come over and transform your long-distance relationships into something bigger. Hell, you even said you might marry him. Why were you so careless? Why did your colleagues’ opinions matter so much?

You sighed, putting on an old black hoodie. You were hopeless.

Then you heard the doorbell rang and frowned. You were not expecting anyone since you didn’t order your pizza yet.

You hurried to the door in your slippers and put your hair into a ponytail on the way. It was around 8 pm. Who could it be? Did someone just mistake your apartment for someone’s else? You knew your aunt wasn’t coming without telling you first, and no one else knew where you moved to.

But you opened the door, and you found glowing Steve there with a plate in his hands. You were so stunned you just kept standing there until you heard him snicker. Wait, what? Steve? Did he need to borrow anything? Why was he here?

“H-hi Steve. Please, come in.” You stepped back awkwardly to let him go inside and saw him smiling even wider once he spotted your fluffy blue slippers. Could it get even more humiliating than that?

“Hi there. I’ve actually come to apologize properly for the… well, you know.” He almost looked like he was blushing a bit. “And I brought you a lemon pie. Although I baked it myself, I swear it’s not poisonous!”

Great, your absolutely perfect blue-eyed neighbor with blond hair and a winning smile was so nice he brought you a homemade pie. Girl, you were losing it. Maybe he was a serial killer instead of a swinger? It would make sense, indeed. Maybe it wasn’t wise touching this pie? Damn, you hoped he tried to kill you instead of just being nice, because Steve was clearly out of this world.

“I mean… not like baked it the way my mother did… more like googling an easy recipe online and putting everything I found into an instant pot…”

You were ready to slap yourself when you saw Steve fidgeting nervously in the hallway. You had to keep your lovely neighbor out of your mind.

“Thank you so much.” Taking the plate from his huge warm hands you felt your body temperature rising. “But you didn’t have to do that. There’s nothing to be sorry about!”

“No, I was being stupid and…”

“Well, whatever. Just come here and share this pie with me so I can check if it’s poisonous or not.” You tried your best to make a joke out of it and laughed, nodding towards the kitchen. “I can make either tea or coffee. What would you prefer? Um, if you’d like to stay, of course.”

“Only if you don’t mind the guy who couldn’t recognise his own neighbor.”

You spent the next hour chatting about anything and everything. Even though you had never been talkative with people you barely knew, Steve had seemed so trustworthy and friendly you were not able to stop. He talked a lot too, telling you more about himself, claiming he was “just a kid from Brooklyn.” He didn’t finish his university degree because of some financial issues and was now working in an auto repair shop. He still wanted to return to engineering, though, but the only jobs he was offered were some unpaid internships and things like that. And he also played guitar. And he had just finished renovating his own apartment.

The only flaw you found was his issue with keeping the rooms clean as he was overly impressed with your place and how tidy it was. Well, it was something.

Then you had somehow told him about your work, new company, colleagues, the event, and… and that imaginary boyfriend of yours. When you realized you complained about your silly lies, it was already late. Steve was biting his lips not to laugh. Oh, great. Now he was thinking how pitiful you were, pretending to have someone in order to gain some respect from your new coworkers. What kind of girl would say these things to a man like him? You were clearly out of your mind. The only good thing about it was that Steve would probably walk out of your apartment and never come back again.

“Please don’t think I’m laughing at you. It’s… a bit funny, I mean, that you think there’s nothing you could do with your issue.” He grinned at you, almost pouting like a little baby. “Think of it, you just need to ask some guy you know to pretend he’s your boyfriend. Ask him to come with you to this holiday event, and then some time later you can say you broke up with him.”

For a minute you fell silent, staring at the guy in front of you with wide eyes.

“Wait, but I don’t know anyone here. I can’t merely go to anyone on the street and ask him to do this for me, right?”

“Well, for starters, you know me.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve x reader #romcom au #captain america

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dropsofletters · 4 years

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if it is written in the stars

title: if it is written in the stars pairing: liu yangyang/reader genre: best friends!au/college!au/soulmate!au (ish) summary: another text, another laugh, another break-up in the line. the knowledge she has of her best friend, yangyang, is palpable in the deep connection that they have with each other. however, college is the start of their end, ripping at the rugged edges of their friendship. suddenly, they become too much for each other, much too separated to ever come back together, only to turn their backs and long after their past. some people are soulmates, some people you pick, some people are just meant to be. type: fluff/angst/romance word count: 9,860 ⚠️ disclaimer: this is part of the love diaries, my valentine’s day project with wayv, if you want to read the rest of the members’ stories, you can click here and find the masterlist for it.

Interesting is the concept of a déjà vu, for people are too ignorant to stop for a moment and think that life is telling them to pay attention to the details of that moment. To this day, she still wondered what she had to learn again—what the lesson was in that damned day of September, but the repetition of events from the past, back when she was in high school, never reached her brain as a bigger mass of knowledge.

One of the numerous things she would never want to live again, even if a sword was pressed to her chest and the only choice would be to re-live a part of her life, is to go back to high school. Everything feels far too cramped, awkward, like one word from her teenage years will come haunt her for the rest of her life; cringe-worthy, hypothetically speaking her worst mindset in her life, and that is such a big statement. Everyone told her she’d miss the youthful years, the days in which pimples would pop up on her face out of nowhere thanks to the simplistic touch of sweat, or the ones in which she had to go to a new school because, once again, she is unable to stay in the last one. She would definitely miss having to introduce herself to every person that crosses path with her and of course, she’d miss the pretentious stares of the teachers when hearing that she comes from a public school, and not a private one like the rest of the population in that classroom.

She’d miss the pre-period stress that accumulates with frustration and anger, her mind praying that no one would dare to get close to her to establish a conversation. Damn her, because the first class included the overly charismatic people that wanted to talk to her as if they had known each other for years.

Would she regret this in the future, too? She wondered at the time, far too entranced in spending the one free period after a teacher said they would be going to a reunion and left the class alone to see it turn to an utmost disaster.

The past she recalled perfectly; the nervousness she portrayed in her gaze when she looked around the room and the quickness she had to look down at her notebook once again, scribbling down the lyrics of a song she could not get out of her head. It relaxed her in the middle of the noise, grounded her in the reality of life—that this, too, shall be knowledge for the future her, and it was. One day, she would earn something important from such a hard time in her life, going from one school to the other, but now, in the place she sat down, distress took over her. For now, all her body desired was to sit through some classes, get back home and forget about the pompous people in that classroom—not all, but she felt like generalizing, for she was young and far too judgmental at the time, scared of a new friend getting too close—.

It did not felt like she would ever fit in, with seats too tiny or too big, with too much knowledge on a subject or none at all, either too raw in her words or completely silent. It did not felt like this moment she had lived a handful of times before would ever teach her something new. These people she will forget in the future, she was certain of at that moment, merged in the masses of people she already got to know.

Her day was changed that morning of September when she felt his patella digging to her back, thanks to the slightly open seats of this high school. Someone with rather harsh bones leaned over her seat, spying eyes scanning the handwriting in her notebook and when she heard the sound of this guy’s voice, she felt at ease—strangely enough, he sounded so relaxed, so youthful in his approach that she felt like he was one of the people she wouldn’t mind talking to.

“You like that band, too?” When she turned around, she was met with the smiling face of Liu Yangyang—at the time, she did not even know if that was his name, so she avoided saying it at any coast until she heard someone else calling him such—. After all, she did not pay attention when everyone introduced themselves.

His black hair was messy, something some teacher would probably end up complaining about in the long run, a little bit too long for the protocol. His smile was bright, mischievous, framing his straight nose nicely. His eyes did not hold the stars, they were rather void for her at the time—black and pointless, nothing to be too interested about, but his conversation starter captured her attention immediately. “I do. I have always wanted to go to a concert of theirs.”

“Dude, so do I!” His elbows rested upon his desk. “What’s your favorite song?”

At the time, she did not realize Yangyang was supposed to teach her something, and he was her little gift after a déjà vu.

🌌

Some people make a home out of you, and some you make a home out of. Yangyang’s home, her best friend’s soul, could only be described as a mess—he babblers a lot, always rambling when a moment of silence settles in between them, always laughing with his heart’s content, it is so disorganized like his train of thought, sometimes in one point and then in the other, something that she realized long before their high school graduation, before he started college, heck, she may have even known it the moment they started to talk. But, he is her home. The house she has decorated with all her secrets, the only person who has the key of her brain, knows her ideas like the palm of his hand—the guy who introduced her to his group of friends and welcomed her as if she had never been a newbie in their pretentious school.

But they are not there. The last time she saw Yangyang was three weeks ago, a complete blasphemy compared to their daily encounters when they were in high school. At the time, she thought that seeing Yangyang’s sleepy face every morning was a curse, or that sitting beside him during lunchtime to see him have the blandest sandwich in the world was surely not what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, but the comfort of it is missed when she steps inside his college campus. In a place like this, she is alone, a dot in the middle of the alphabet, incomparable in every given way and not for a good reason. People like the ones here have enough money to fulfill education or are so outstanding in a part of their lives that they can manage the benefit of college. They carry their books like an armor, smell thickly like cheap perfume and too much caffeine, they talk too loudly and seem too sluggish, like different people from her world of failed college applications, miserable jobs and of course, the lost feeling of not knowing what to do next.

Yangyang would not understand—one of the stage kids in theatre, far more interesting in essence with the musical part of him that gained him a spot in that college, much less would their other two friends capture the essence of her nervousness. Elena is one of them, missing in the stereotype of being unique, too much of a party-goer to even understand the importance of the tests that lay on her desk whenever she goes to class, and of course, how could she forget of the jokester journalism student that is her friend? Cheng is his name, pride to the family of rich individuals, all in love with his immaculate words that hide the small size of his brain. Though funny, those two people could never mimic the warmth that Yangyang brings to her with simple conversation.

There is a difference: Elena and Cheng talked to her because Yangyang basically pushed her inside their lives, bringing her to the table at every given lunchtime, and while she is used to them and knows a handful of facts about the two of them, she can only see how much they have changed. Once the misfits in school, they are thriving with the equality system of college.

The real question would be if she is friends with Elena and Cheng now, as the pompous jokesters that take their words a little too far, because she naturally enjoys the fun side of life they bring to her, completely different to her point of view or because she is doing it because she is scared of being alone, of losing Yangyang and the duo simply because she doesn’t want anyone to point out her failed attempt at adulating.

Taking one second glance at the guy whose body is leaning against the wall near classroom A3, she realizes the culprit she had been looking for in the entire campus is right in front of her. Texting Yangyang’s roommate, Dejun, would have been an easier option if she had done it sooner and the ache of her legs wouldn’t be half as intolerable if she had thought about this decision twice. God forbid him from discovering clothing layering, because the heat of the day is enough to have her sweating in her t-shirt, but he has layered a red long sleeved shirt underneath his t-shirt, following those trends he sees on social media. His dark hair moves slightly with the wind, though his fingers come up to fix it every once in a while, concentrating on his phone, her own vibrating with new messages in their friends’ group-chat.

That is how she came to visit him, given that his professor was not coming to class.

Physical touch is not easy for her, repulsed by the idea of trusting someone enough of nearing her, more often than not denying the hugs that anyone would offer her, but with Yangyang…it comes as easy as finishing a glass of lemonade in a warm day. The swift motion she does brings her arms to wrap around his tiny waist, the fabrics over his body folding slightly at the action. Her chin rests on his back, feeling his body jump under her touch, turning around to look at the supposed stranger that had hugged him out of the sudden. Surprised is his expression when he realizes who it is, caging her in a hug and lifting her up the ground slightly, his habit ever since the first year of their friendships. A lot of time later, he still does it, like it is his habit to make her feel like he would never let her go.

“Dude, what are you doing here?”

Expanding her hands on his back, ribs becoming one in the touch, a smile on her face erasing every thought of worry. The battery inside her seems to be filled with energy, electrifying bits coming from his mere touch when she pulls away to look at him. “I was reading your texts and I happened to be around.” A shrug is delivered after the statement, looking up and down his body before smiling. “Aren’t you hot?”

The extends of his lungs release a big sigh. “So hot. I thought looking cool would not make me feel bad, but I am sweating buckets underneath this shirt. These shirts, actually, they are two.” Plucking the fabric on his body with two fingers, his index and thumb to be exact, she scrunches up her nose at his words. Grossed out she should be about her best friend, but she knows Yangyang is naturally appealing—an extrovert, charismatic, talkative and overall, very interesting, as well as mischievous and youthful. “But my ex’s new boyfriend is in this class and I need to show the world I’m the best choice.”

“Are we talking about that church girl you dated like…a year ago?” She remembers the days in between Yangyang’s senior year of high school and summer break before college, when Yangyang used to be absolutely in love with the cutest, smallest black haired girl. Much to his fearful ways, though, the girl asked for a forever after the first month of dating and added a diamond emoticon in every description in her social media, along with his name, which was enough to have Yangyang fleeting away like the breeze. “You’re talking as if you really liked her that much.”

His fingers reach up to pinch her cheeks, his relaxation method as well as his way of teasing her. “I did like her—”

“Yangyang, you broke up with her in the first place.”

Widening his eyes comically, enough to make him look like he is taken out of a TV show, he pinches on her skin a little bit too hard to hear her hiss. “You’re, like, always outing me with that kind of stuff.” He starts. “What was I supposed to do? I was eighteen! Eighteen.” Repeating the word, he tries to emphasize the meaning of youth. Marriage is one of his biggest fears, if not the biggest, always a reminder of how weird it is to grow older and to have set expectations from society. “And she was already introducing me to her mom as her future husband. Like, I freaked out.”

She takes her backpack off, unzipping it to take out a bag of chips she had bought for herself, but maybe, the tired-looking college student that is a little bit out of his mind needed it the most. Yangyang takes it in his hands, opening it and plopping one of the salty treats inside his mouth. “In typical Yangyang nature. You date people that are so different from you, it’s like you’re in a game of NEXT.”

“As in the MTV show?”

“You’re saying ‘next’ to all of them because none of them are…your type.” Attraction is very difficult to differentiate from love when you are young, and Yangyang is the epitome of a try-hard, the ride or die type of guy that would do anything and everything to live a new experience. “I told you church girl wasn’t right for you. She was far too into you and you were just attracted to her.” What he does next is surprising, his fingers dusting off the salt and chip crumbs on her hair. “Yangyang—!”

“Don’t tell me what I already know.” His thumb plops inside his mouth, a popping sound coming after he sucks the remaining salt on the digit. Utterly disgusting. “Like, I just don’t know how you do it. You are in, like, this meditation state of mind whenever someone talks to you about dating. You’re truly picky or just really patient.”

A smile tugs at the edges of her mouth as she speaks. “Look at all the people in our high school and you’ll realize why I never dated.”

He laughs loudly, closing his eyes before giving half of the small bag of chips to her, which she declines with a polite hand-motion. “Wow, roasted.”

“It’s true!”

“I can’t argue with that.” Their conversation is briefly cut short when Yangyang hears the sound of someone shouting his name, coming from the tables near the classroom. A group of guys sit there, one taking the time to exclaim something along the lines of ‘is that your new girl?’ to which the young man can only shake his head, denying all allegations. This is the reality of youth, though presented in a freer manner nowadays, there are still idiots with closed-down mindsets. They think youth is about dating or about getting a degree, dismissing anyone who dares not to drink or smoke. What has youth turned into if a person has to choose sides between both extremes? “I don’t get it. People always think we’re dating.”

The recurring ‘guy-and-girl-friendship’ syndrome, she likes to call it, in which people simply can’t see two people having that connection or bond of friendship without disregarding it as love. Sometimes, she finds herself thinking if they are the exception of the rule—her agenda includes thinking of Yangyang as her annoyingly comforting best friend, the one guy she would talk to for hours to no end, whose smile beams and shines and clings to her the nights or days they are together. Clearly not blind to Yangyang’s charms, she knows falling for him would almost never be possible.

Though, she does admit it is very difficult she could have this level of comfort with anyone else.

“Sorry?” She utters, tugging on his arm before biting down on her bottom lip. “Show me around the campus. I want to live the college fantasy for once.”

Yangyang silently understands her, hooking his arm with hers before starting to walk. Most people seemed like poison to her, but Yangyang was the sweetest of juices—maybe orange, with a hint of a wake-up call if you have it after a night out drinking or early in the mornings before your schedule. Whenever she gets another mail telling her that yet another college does not want to have her, Yangyang always sees the positive. To him, there is an even bigger fate for her, a lesson to be learned, memories to make in the blur of the moment to live and recall when she is older. Instead of letting her bask in her disappointment, he takes her in a ride of indulging conversation. Inside her mind, Yangyang screams to have fun.

And fun is approachable with him.

“Let me lead the way,” He giggles, exactly what he does when he has an idea for a joke inside his head. “Forty for the college tour.”

“What a scam.” She retorts, voice earning a heartfelt laugh from Yangyang, who tosses the now empty bag of chips in the nearest trashcan before shrugging.

“I had to try.”

That is exactly like him. His mind is ripped and divided in millions of hobbies, thoughts and ideas needing to make the best out of every situation. Is it a curse or is it a blessing? She probably would ask herself, but everything about Yangyang was a blessing to her. The only best friend she had in her life, the one person that had seen her heart inside and out, torn and back together.

🌌

There are parallels in life. In October of the previous year, she had found herself inside Yangyang’s old room, coating his face in some cheap foundation three times lighter than his face—or even more, sincerely—and looking up Joker makeup tutorials on the internet, trying to keep the man from moving too much in his seat or from speaking when she was supposed to master the craft of the smiley red lipstick. Either way, the hair was the worst part at the time; Yangyang had claimed that he could just get it dyed, but the thought of bleaching his hair and dying it green simply to go to a Halloween party was too farfetched. Instead, some green hairspray had to do the trick, leaving a pout on Yangyang’s face until he saw the results. That day was a nightmare for her, tremendously harsh on her back thanks to her never-ending standing state, but seeing the smile on his face was enough.

Now, in the movie theater, with his hands clutching on to the tickets enough to make the tips of his fingers a little white, she envies that childlike excitement he owns. There was not a single wave that would ever be enough to wipe the smile off his face and if it ever were to happen, she would shelter him with her arms, afraid of Yangyang losing that spark that makes him so strongly himself. Natural, spontaneous, just her best friend.

Though, they are not alone. Lately, she can barely see him around people, let alone when he’s in solitude.

“What if we divide our money and pay for the biggest popcorn box?” Absolutely unexcused, she is thinking with her stomach in this getaway. The lights of the golden and red movie theater cast down on Yangyang’s golden skin, adorably and naturally outlined lips licked at the idea of the biggest, buttery box of popcorn, with its red and white stripes barely seen when their hands wrap around it. Yangyang reads her mind and maybe, he had thought of this, too, because he is taking out his wallet by the time she finishes the sentence, turning to her whilst grinning.

“I take your popcorn box and I double it with two big sodas because…it’s needed.” He contributes, typical of Yangyang to say something outrageous like that. His motto in life is to live in the moment and if stuffing their stomachs with popcorn and soda is what he wants to do, he will. He doesn’t care if later in the night, the guttural sounds of his stomach match the ache inside it, intestines and organs working hard to process the amount of food he ate, small in size and too little for his appetite.

Taking her money out, she smiles. “You’re right,” She says, moving forward in the line for the food in the Joker premiere at their local movie theater. “I can’t believe we’re watching this movie together.”

“I should be studying right now but like, I wouldn’t watch this without you.” Yangyang concludes, fumbling with his feet and balancing back and forth, too hyperactive to ever stay still.

“Don’t sugarcoat me—”

“I mean it! My roommate, Dejun, told me to watch it with his friends but I said no!” Moving one step ahead, he continues speaking. “You were the one that pushed through with my Joker addiction throughout high school.”

“You were…not cool as the Joker, let me tell you.” She tells him, raising her eyebrows to wiggle them in a teasing manner. “You looked like those kids that get their mom’s lipsticks all over their faces when they first try makeup.”

“…Blame the makeup artist, not the canvas.”

“What do you mean? I did what the YouTube tutorial told me to!”

“You didn’t do it justice, though!”

The feeling of a pair of arms hooking around their shoulders weighted their words down, someone’s strong arms pushing her body down slightly, sharing a glance with Yangyang who is in the same position. Elena is the one to hug them, tan skin gorgeous even with the thin layer of sweat over it, a big smile on her face when she ruffles their hairs. Cheng is somewhere, speaking to his own group of friends, college sweethearts that didn’t even spare her much of their times—a person who couldn’t even get in college is not of their interest, as it seems. The amount of people accompanying them is impressive, though extremely uncomfortable, leaving her silent unless Yangyang approached her. Charismatic enough he is to talk to the new people in their group of friends, but he opts to stay by her side, like a fish that never leaves the pond that watched him grow.

“Buy us some, will you? You’re the only one who works out of us, you should be the one inviting tonight.” Elena laughs, because in her words being borderline mean is what is considered to be a joking manner. Nonetheless, Yangyang spares her a glance, looks at her way her face hardens when she speaks.

“Elena, I need to save some money for rent. I’m not sure I am able to buy food for all of us—” She argues, something that has Elena sighing.

“Don’t be such a sap. You can earn that money back.”

Yangyang is the first one to move away from the grasp, shaking his head with a faint smile on his features. “We’ll be buying popcorn for us. I think it’s better if each of us pairs up with someone and buys popcorn for the two.” Not that their friend pays much attention, far different from the person she had met in high school, who used to hide in fear of being rejected by others. Elena had been once helpful, innocent, somewhat lost in the world, and her newfound popularity in college came out to be a surprise for everyone. Her eyes are fixated on the people behind her, Cheng talking excitedly to the rest of youthful individuals.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll ask Cheng.” She finishes, giving her friend a smile behind her bitten lip. “I have one friend I want to introduce to you, though.”

She points at her chest, in awe of the flirty undertone in Elena’s voice. “…Introduce someone to me?”

“He’s so your type.” Elena, always touchy even when someone is just simply not having it, wraps her arm around her shoulder even tighter before turning her away from Yangyang, pointing at the tallest of the group. “He has a beard and goes to the gym. He’s an engineering student, too, like, he goes to one of my classes and he’s just so hot. Yangyang knows him, too!”

She turns to her friend, questioning him in his spot, but he simply gives her an innocent look. “I didn’t know he was coming today, I swear.”

“I don’t want you to pair me up with someone, I’ve told you already.” The conversation always comes afloat whenever she reunites with her old high school group of friends. Relationships in the bloom of youth, when everyone is simply looking to have fun, necessary for the growth of a person—until it wasn’t. It isn’t, in any way, shape or form, the first thing on her mind. Growth as an individual, in the shape of intelligence and wisdom, is far more important than any connection with another person. “Much less with Viking guy over there.”

Yangyang muffles his laughter, though it comes out in high spurts before he takes her by the arm, dragging her away from Elena’s prying ways. “We’re going to buy some popcorn, just let her be. Not everyone has to have someone.”

Though, sitting beside Yangyang during the movie they had awaited the most as a group of friends is not equally as enjoyable when she has two of her oldest friends constantly having the ‘Viking Guy’, as she likes to call him, try to spark conversation up with her. It’s awkward, clearly noticeable in the way they end up in silence that neither of them are interested, simply trying to get by that movie and leave. At some point, she finds herself more tranced in the cinematography of the film, the raw and heavy storyline, the scrupulous acting. Honorable, really, and way more desirable to watch when Yangyang is constantly talking about the infamous laugh of the character to her, proactive in every single way.

In some point of her life, she went back to stage one—the part of her knowing that she is stuck in the past, in the days when Yangyang would take up most of her time and Elena would be much more of a supportive friend than she is now, thankful and giving her the bracelet that hangs around her wrist, reminder of Elena’s first guitar gig when she was younger. Cheng, though silent, was the first person whom had ever contacted her through the phone, back at the time of high school practically glued to Yangyang’s hip, twins in heart and soul until they grew to be different. What had changed, if she had not at all? It feels wrong to be the type of person that sits in between a group of people who has individuals she swore to know, only to hear them speak differently, holding inside jokes with others, simply leaving her out as the one that has never moved on. The Peter Pan, who never grows up, who starts to sound childish in her task of never moving towards college and simply, never living that youthful love affair that everyone talks about.

The soda inside her system turns bitter, the constant looks from Cheng pointing at her to talk to someone, but she simply shrugs it off, finding whatever excuse there is—like putting her phone up her ear and pretending to get a call, to get out of there.

The night engulfs her in nostalgia, wishing to go back to the days she could go to sleep knowing when she would see her friends next. Instead, she is left with nothingness, wondering if at the end, she’ll be alone again. Why are the people she adored so insufferable to her now? Is she wrong? All those questions are clouded with the image of Yangyang, bringing her back the type of people that had always welcomed her in. He was one of the exceptions, the young man whom had also never changed. Though, deep in her heart, she knew that one day he would have to cut ties with his high school days…

Seated on the staircase that welcomes the movie theater, she waits for her taxi to pick her up, leggings-cladded legs pushing her knees up her chest, resting her chin in between them. To the people passing by, she must look pathetic, but she can’t bring herself to care when she felt so utterly uncomfortable with anyone else that she had once loved, with the exception of Yangyang, whose friendly ways had brought her back to enjoy the movie.

The sound of footsteps makes her look up, watching a pair of legs before someone sits down beside her, Yangyang’s recently dyed brown hair moving with the wind when he turns to look at her. His eyes are filled with that empathy that he lacks in his youthful ways, the epitome of a summer boy in all its expanse, and she basks in the familiar feeling that they have. “I am sorry Elena mad eyou uncomfortable. I told Cheng and Elena that bringing their college friends is not a good idea.”

She rolls her eyes, puckering up her lips out of disgust. Maybe, towards herself. “I should be able to get accustomed to this.” She starts, voice filled with frustration. “But it’s difficult to be the one left out. Everyone is talking about college and how college sucks and I’m here thinking that wow, everyone at this table just got in and got it over with. Everyone at that table do not think about love as this sacred, eventful thing. They just live their lives and…” Her voice cuts short, biting down on her bottom lip when she pulls her gaze away from him, scared that he will be able to look through her insecurity. “I don’t.”

“Your life should not consist of college and love.” Yangyang says, shrugging his shoulders soon after. He is uncomfortable in these situations, not able to give proper advice. “I’m proud of you. You do very good at your job.”

“I didn’t think I’d be just working at this point. I thought I would get a scholarship and—” She scoffs. “Then, there’s Elena. How many times have I told her that I don’t like her pairing me up with people? It’s annoying.”

“I told her not to bring him over.”

“…Thank you.” She whispers, resting her head against his shoulders to seek that comfort his bony structure brings. Something about him is not exactly warm, but it leaves a fluttering feeling to rest on her heart, as if everything is going to be okay as long as he exists in the same timeline as her. “Why did you come out?”

“It’s dangerous for you to be out this late,” Yangyang starts before pressing his finger down on her cheek. “And the only person I really like teasing is you, so…I came here.”

“You picked me over the frat-people?” She asks, the joke lingering on her voice when she speaks.

“I already get enough frat-dosage in college.” He tells her, holding her shoulder with his hand before sighing. “You asked someone to pick you up?”

“A taxi.”

“Let’s wait and then, I’ll go back.”

Once inside the taxi, a smile on her face practically glued there thanks to Yangyang’s voice, she watches him turn his back and enter the movie theater and it’s so representative in such a way. Even when they are together, he’ll always have to go back to the real world, one in which she feels like she won’t be part of for long. Once he closes the door behind him, she rests her head against the window.

Hopefully, the time to leave her behind doesn’t come soon, like a toy he is too grown up to hold in his arms.

🌌

Sitting on the old, flowery couch of the house of Cheng’s parents, she feels like an outcast, sipping on her glass of water as everyone holds a bottle of beer, enjoying their lives when they don’t have to wake up early to go to work…perhaps, for a class they can skip and they won’t even be kicked out of college for that, something that would happen if she were to do that in her workplace. There, with the sound of the buttons of a PS4 controller being pushed down repeatedly, some match of Germany against Spain being played in the FIFA game, she feels like she truly isn’t cut for this type of life. Everyone seems to be pretending, music loud and yet, everyone is talking about what they have, what they do, what they don’t do and how easy it comes to them. People fight to seem effortless, clothes tight and fashionable and yet, they pretend they didn’t take a few bits of their day to think about it. Some are making out, not afraid of people watching them, others are blowing clouds of smoke into the hair, cigarettes merging with weed, and then, there is one person who simply can’t seem to talk to anyone.

It is not a complex of perfection, much less does she think she is better than anyone else, but she finds herself fidgeting with the edge of her cup, roaming her gaze around the place as she wonders where the eventful nights of talking had gone to when they graduated, if Cheng and Elena were even the same people that she had once known. The thought dries her throat, wanting to leave by the time she takes a sip of her drink, the liquid almost getting out of her lips when she feels someone wrapping their arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to her temple that barely resonates through the music.

“Sorry, I’m late as usual.” As usual, who would have thought a phrase would bring so much joy? She thinks her usual days consist of a text from him or a reminder that somewhere in this world, Yangyang is always there for her. In the small seat, he manages to fit his hips, snugly pressed to the sides of hers while he takes a sip of his soda. “I had to take a bus here because I couldn’t find a taxi and…whatever, I got here, didn’t I?”

“You did.” She utters, fixing the messy strands of soft hair that swipe the air in spikey bits. “Reminds me of the times you would get twenty minutes late to the first period in high school. All day, every day.” The flushed sight of his cheeks marks a memory in her brain, seated at the back of the class beside Cheng and Elena, the latter probably looking over her shoulder to see what homework she had missed out on and Cheng mumbling something behind her ear in the form of a joke. Yangyang sat far away from her, in her line of sight however, looking for yet another excuse when he had none.

“I just love my sleep.”

“You really do.” She comments, pressing her phone back in her pocket before biting down on her bottom lip. “I’m glad you got here, though. Cheng is talking to his girl and Elena is smoking and getting her makeup done.”

Scrunching up his nose, Yangyang continues the conversation. “Elena hates getting makeup on, though.” That goes to show how much their lives had changed in over two years. Makeup is not necessarily the biggest of worries for her, but the sharpness of their texts, the unbearable state of knowing the end is near, that their personalities and lives don’t collide anymore. To certain extent, she feels like she continues to establish this bothersome friendship because she is scared of losing the warmth Yangyang brings her, missing him when he is not there, adoring him when he is by her side. “I won’t ask, though.” His eyes trail over the groups of people before he stands up from his spot, lending her his hand while he speaks. “Let’s go outside. It smells less like I’m about to lose my lungs.”

She chuckles at his words, wrapping her palm around his until she is up her feet. While moving through the seas of people, she gets to look at Yangyang. “I thought you’d be more into the party life.” Yangyang’s hair is moved away from his face, something unusual given to his laziness when treating with self-care. His outfit was fashionable, though, black and white striped shirt tucked inside a pair of black jeans.

“I don’t mind it,” Opening the door of the entrance of Cheng’s house, they are welcomed by his front yard, stars casting down on the beautiful garden, the faux butterflies the adoration of Cheng’s mother, one with nature and peacefulness. Quite the contrary from the explosion Cheng is once someone gets to know him past his quiet exterior. “But…you know, I just like spending time with you better.” He takes the cup from her hands, giving it a sip before humming. His eyes train on the stars, coating his eyes with the dreamiest of glares when she nudges his side with her elbow.

As always, she teases him, eager to bring laughter away from his lips. “You like me.” She sing-songs, something that has Yangyang widening his eyes comically before shaking his head.

“I don’t!”

“Yangyang, really, accept it, bro.” She huffs, looking up at the sky before she remembers this one pick up line battle they used to have in high school, starter of her blushed state in a way for Yangyang to make her more open to speaking. It had worked, just only that they made them even closer. “Ask me which Hogwarts house I want to be in.” She says, something that has Yangyang frowning before turning to look at her.

“What Hogwarts house do you want to be in?” He is amused, given to the tone of his voice, only to grin when he sees the fake smug smirk on her face.

“Not a Hogwarts house, but I would love to be in yours.” The horrid pick up line has him frowning and scrunching up his nose in disgust, pinching her lips with his fingers before swinging her head from side to side.

“Wash your mouth with Clorox, that’s the worst thing you’ve told me—”

But it is a conversation starter, in which she can finally get to hear the news of Yangyang’s week as a college student and she can ramble about this one client that doesn’t understand the importance of collectives, working with collections that are decades and decades old definitely has its fabric to cut and people who are not so glad with her job. The lights of the stars serve to give a hearty feeling, like what is being said in between them is only going to stay there, something that she lacks in her friendships nowadays. The only person that makes her feel like there are still people to trust in this world is Yangyang, and no one could take that spot.

With those faintly and naturally outlined lips of his, those mischievous eyes and that sweet but crazy nature of his, she thinks it would hurt her if he ever takes their friendship for granted, like how Elena and Cheng do, looking at the brighter people, the fun that comes with them. One day, the two of them are going to change…but growing up leaves her fearful, wanting time to stop and give her a break from the worries of tomorrow.

Their conversation is cut short when someone opens the door and asks Yangyang to go dance with them, something that he tries to deny until she tells him that it is okay, that he should go have fun. He looks over his shoulder, pondering if she is even in her right mind, but then he is out of sight, leaving her alone with the stars.

He deserves to grow away from her.

🌌

I saw Sai from high school at the train station today. He kept asking me about my boyfriend and I was so confused. Turns out everyone believes you’re my boyfriend…still.

That text was written earlier in the morning, when her shoulder blades were uncomfortably pressed to the seat of her train, wanting to get to work as soon as possible, but the response was only welcomed when she got her lunch break, back hunched when she checks her phone with one hand and the other takes her food out of the microwave. Wrong decision in the life of an adult, it seems, because the heat seeps through her skin and has her hissing quickly. The plate bumps the table in front of her, making her roll her eyes at her stupid decision before returning her gaze to the answer Yangyang gave over an hour ago.

She remembers the confusion the young and actually innocent version of herself had felt when she realized that people had always thought she was dating Yangyang. Her first real friend, the same guy who spoke about everyone he liked to her, and the person she spent every single moment with. As it turns out, walking beside someone in school is enough to create a rumor and that rumor gets out of hand when Yangyang simply decides to post a picture of his best friend in social media. Granted, sometimes she wondered what could happen if only she held Yangyang’s hand once, or if their little pick-up fight at the time was a way to blow on the tension between themselves—

Their situation is weird when this topic comes to their hands.

Ha-ha, time to confess!

Her eyes widen when she reads those words, the food she had pushed inside her mouth suddenly feeling like it could escape her mouth. She imagines Yangyang’s mocking tone, but the sentence reads weirdly, scrolling down until she sees the rest of the texts:

I may have liked you the first few months of our friendship, but like…I thought it was not mutual and never really did anything. Got over it, though, I realized you’re a dumbass.

The thought of Yangyang crushing on her like he had done on the endless list of girls simply has her dumbfounded. Yangyang, acting like a complete fool to get her attention and using his stupid pick-up lines to get to her heart. The base of the first joke they had as friends was a way for him to flirt with her, and that is nonsensical enough. In reality, she wonders if she would have ever liked Yangyang or if she has liked him, for the matter, if the fluttering inside her stomach is simply a way her body reacts to her feelings for him, if this comfort he brings her and this fear of losing him comes with romantic feelings. Is this why men are never enough…because they are not Yangyang?

This is not how she wants her day to go, though, too confused to even think if Yangyang feels like her real friendship because she had jumbled a crush with such a thing…or simply because this doesn’t feel real. She tries pinching her cheeks, watching the conversation before her and soon after, she replies.

I don’t think I have liked you, dumbass.

The reply is short, but Yangyang’s message comes faster than she expected it to go through.

Come on, I know you liked me the first time we met, too.

Frowning, she tries to think of her first thoughts when she met him…but they were all average. After that, the developmental phase of their friendship is what makes her confused. What had people seen that she had completely missed?

Also, you said I don’t think!

I didn’t like you, Yangyang.

So, you like me now?

You’re asking as if we were really going to end up together.

I don’t think so, but everyone has been wanting us to get together since year nine. I think it’s fair to say…we’re a match.

To think of Yangyang in such a light doesn’t seem impossible and while closing her eyes, she tries to think of kissing him…to see what kind of reaction spurts from her. She imagines the smile he would give her before leaning in, his soft hands holding her neck before he dives in, taking his time to tease her with a few inexperienced bits here and there, those lips that capture her attention suddenly turning into the reason why she opens her eyes and shakes her head. She couldn’t confess that somewhere deep within her she has always wanted this, the romantic reaction she could get out of him.

Thus, she responds:

If we’re alone by the time we’re forty, we need to reproduce and the Earth is about to die if we don’t create a baby, then we’ll be a match.

🌌

One day, the building she had tried to keep together with effort, deep breaths and the hope of getting her friends back tumbles down on her, reminds her of how different things are from the past and leaves her with yet another wound in her heart.

It has been quite a while since someone has hurt her that deep. She may have been thirteen or fourteen the last time it happened, far younger and more naïve, definitely looking to get her heart broken with the way she acted and it was expected, but she had never wished for her friendship with Elena to end. Though their beginning was rough, with her gut telling her there was something wrong with the overly excited young woman that wanted to push herself into every group of friends, she always believed in Elena and she was the person that pushed her to be the best version of herself. The pencil-written notes at the edges of her notebook, short explanations of the subjects she didn’t understand for when she was studying; the person who would write to her in her worst times, telling her that she is never going to be worth what people say about her; the same person who left all her prejudices behind to create something beautiful out of them. Then, came Cheng, an exact copy to Elena once they hung out more with each other, both her friends along with Yangyang.

Somewhere in between, Elena had forgotten about the importance of the lessons she learned with her friend. What had been done to her, she did to everyone else. No longer was she enough for the slightly older woman, barely a few months older than her, poking fun at the most miniscule parts of her, the torn sides of her personality that she got to see after so many years of friendship, taking them as weapons to go through her heart. Pushing her to be someone whom she is not, introducing her to a new man at every chance she gets, giving her number out like hot bread in a bakery, as if her matchmaking skills will save her from turmoil. The opportunity to have education and paid by her single mother at that is enough to make her feel like more.

The person who was once equal to her now feels like she owes her the time they spend together.

Cheng is the same, the conversation they had through the phone as they simply push her to ‘go out on a fucking date for once in her life’ is the last thing she needed after three months of wanting to see them, realizing that everyone had been right all along. Her mind, most of all, knowing they had changed. Perhaps, they are not bad people…but they are not the people for her, wanting a cookie-cutter versions of themselves, pushing their insecurities down in someone who is living her life differently.

It hurts to sit on the floor, head laying on her sofa when she reads over the texts, sees the blocked contacts and realizes how many pictures of them she has in her phone. Pictures of Elena hugging her when they shared their first birthday together. Pictures of Cheng with her during graduation, when he almost fell down the set of stairs out of nervousness. Those people who had been once her soul feel like they are suffocating her and when she looks at a picture of the four of them, Yangyang included by her side, she wonders when the time is that he is going to change and make her leave him, too, for her emotional health is far more important than any friendship.

The level of difficulty elevated after she realized she liked Yangyang.

It wasn’t rocket science to put the pieces together, fantasizing about seeing him and dreaming about him in a romantic light became more and more common for her. She knows she likes Yangyang, but she doesn’t know when the feeling developed. Maybe, after he had pointed it out or perhaps, it had always been there. Nonetheless, seeing his name pop up in the screen almost makes her feel like life is mocking her, pushing the green button on the screen down before bringing the phone up her ear.

“I read the group-chat texts.” He goes straight to the point, voice filled with rage and breath quickened with fear. This is the same voice she heard from Yangyang when he once thought he was going to get robbed, but thankfully nothing had happened. For one of the few times in his life, Yangyang is petrified. “…I was in class, just know I have nothing to do with this. I don’t agree with what they are saying.”

Sighing, she looks up at the ceiling, closing her eyes tightly when she feels the sudden need to cry. “Yangyang, do you think our friendship is going to end, too?”

“What? No, fuck no.”

“Why?” She asks, far too lost in the feeling of loss, grieving the friendships she had loved to bits.

“Because you’re my friend.”

“But you’re bound to grow up, Yangyang. I’m still stuck in the high school days.” The words that had been once told to her engrave in her brain, becoming one with her insecurities, all cause of hanging around with the wrong people in such an important moment of her life. “Well fuck, sorry.” She is defensive by now, frowning when she feels a lump on her throat, trying to battle the tears escaping her eyes. “Sorry you guys think of me as less for not going to college, or for not having enough money to pay for it. Sorry I don’t want to date around or that I never talk about who I like. Sorry I don’t drink or smoke or whatever. I just…I want to be happy, is that something I should be apologizing about? I can’t keep up with their friendship—”

“And you shouldn’t.” Yangyang says, voice filled with the emotions he hides, most often than not speaking in a lively manner. “You shouldn’t be friends with people who want to change you.”

“…They’re your friends, too—”

“They are not my friends if they hurt you.” The confession has her opening her eyes, chest shaking and limbs trembling, gripping on to the nearest cushion when a sob finally leaves her lips, immediately alarming Yangyang, though his voice remains levelled. “I’m picking you, again and again. You’re my best friend and I love you.” She can’t help but shake her head, in disbelief that even when his life had moved so fast and he had found a good set of new friends, he had always remembered his roots, the person whose days had always been filled with him and vice versa. “I love you and I’m coming over, okay? Don’t cry. I’ll be there in…thirty, maybe.”

It feels wrong to drag Yangyang down with her, along with the remaining pieces of the building that had been destroyed, but something she had not realized at the time that bad endings sometimes lead to good beginnings, that the lessons she had learned along with Yangyang could work for their individual lives. Nostalgia could never fight wisdom and it’ll never be more worthy than it, so she waits for the punchline from life when she opens the door to welcome Yangyang in, thirty-five minutes later only to receive a hug from him.

If his hugs could speak, warm and candid with the way his arms wrap around her shoulders securely, they would say it will be alright, that there is nothing that makes her any more or less than the people who have dragged her down.

Life is telling, both Yangyang and her, that the decisions they made that night are the most certain. They only need each other for now.

🌌

Truly, the aftermath a few months later leads her to believe finding friends is even more difficult once you become an adult. Opening up to people is a talent, actually, and younglings take it for granted. A heart can only take so many wounds from someone they love before it fights against the pain…and she learns that rather quickly, takes it and makes it something better.

Birthdays want to be spent alone, same with events that her coworkers invite her to—they seem to be too much hassle, like someone is nearing her to an extent she is fearful of, but as there is always told in every story, there is an exception. The exception of the rule, the positive answer that comes out of two negatives multiplied, and that name goes to Yangyang. The best friend that even though had grown apart from her, had always found a place in the most recondite of his heart to have her in there, that had never forgotten the importance of friendship, had memorized the days they dreamed about being older and the nights they dreaded the day to ever come by.

Meeting new people becomes easier with him; slowly, at her pace and how she wants it to happen, though. Yangyang never pushes her to do anything out of the extraordinary, standing by her side and bringing a smile to her face when he takes the time to pick her up from work or when he sees her entering the college grounds, carrying a container with heated food for him to have. The smallest things, tried even through their endless tiredness, keep them together. The fluttering feeling remains there, his arms always finding solace in her shoulders, her nose home in his collarbones, sniffing the cologne that sometimes he forgets to wear. Yangyang, though he continues to grow up and change, still feels like the best person she ever met. Her only friend.

And after a while, she came to the realization that she had grown, as well.

Grown away from bad friendships, became responsible with her job and had started to grow some passion for it. Dreams are dangling from the branches of the tree that is her, picking them up slowly, taking its time in developing herself, taking the gleams of the sun in as a way of growing. She was not the same, but it is okay, she, too, deserved to grow up.

The lung is kicked out of her lungs when she realizes that her little walk back home alongside Yangyang is coming to an end, that feeling she had as a kid of wanting to stay and play clinging to her, her hands deeply placed inside the pockets of his coat, standing behind him and dragging herself with his every movement. This is the closeness they have, the one that makes her heart race more and more with the passage of time—

One day, she’ll be grown enough to tell him she likes him.

“We’re here.” Yangyang announces, a pout on his face when he turns around, blowing on her slightly frozen hands. Her fingers could barely move, having forgotten her gloves somewhere in her apartment. “Take a hot shower once you get there, okay? I don’t want you to become an Elsa.”

“…Of Frozen, you mean?” She asks, earning a sharp nod from Yangyang.

“The blue dress isn’t your style. Neither is it singing.”

“Ah, shut up.” She says, resting both of her hands on each side of his face, hearing him take a short breath in when the cold skin of hers connects to his. “Work on that homework today, Yangyang. You can’t be leaving things for the last minute. You don’t know what could happen and then, you could completely forget about it.”

“I never will.” The confidence that radiates from him, one that only comes with the blank mindset of a young adult, thinking that they are able to do it all, is exactly what keeps bringing her back to him, because on the long run, Yangyang has taught her that she can do it all.

“I like you.” The mumble is only given in between the two and it escapes her like a kiss would in between two lovers that miss each other. Yangyang’s eyes don’t widen, he doesn’t give a surprised reaction, neither does he do anything impressive other than asking her:

“Are you joking?”

“I’m not.” She promises. “You know I never joke around with stuff like this.”

With a sigh of relief, Yangyang clasps her hands together, kissing her knuckles before bringing a big smile on his face. “I know,” He says. “I just…I don’t know; I feel like we were always meant to end up liking each other.”

That must be a positive answer, the one that she expected. She shrugs her shoulders, leaning forward until their chests were pressed together. “Maybe, we’re soulmates.”

“You say ‘maybe’ as if we aren’t already.” The dumb tone of voice he uses to imitate the word has her laughing, shaking her head when her head takes its spot over his collarbone.

“Well, let me correct myself. We are soulmates.”

The soft gush of air that leaves his lips paints in the sky romantically when he finally says something serious, unlike Yangyang in every possible way. “We are.”

And the starts twinkle, indicators that every dot of theirs connected to create their own constellation. If it is written in the stars, it is meant to happen.

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acemeaskipper · 4 years

Text

The Other Woman

Stuck in a universe that isn’t her own, Kochanski contemplates the past existence of the other Kochanski (au where they're on Red Dwarf when they go through that whole alternate dimension Kochanski thing and the crew doesn’t come back before i wrote this before i remembered that happened)

She thought about the other Kristine a lot. More than she perhaps should.

It wasn't intentional, she didn't want to go around thinking about the other her that was now long dead and gone. But she did.

Lister never said anything, bless his heart. He just took her as she was now; the only giveaway was the occasional tightness of his smile or a strange look in his eye as if he couldn't quite understand what he was looking at.

She might have never even thought about the other Kristine if it weren't for Holly, in that bland voice of theirs, suggesting that she raid the other Kristine's wardrobe for clothes.

Two days was as long as she could hold out.

It was unsettling from the moment she opened the door, like someone had taken the world of its axis and left it spinning and confused. Everything was almost right, but not quite.

The bed was the same, and the table had been pushed against the far wall, the chairs all tucked in neat. But it still so strange.

Where she would have had her horse show rosettes, this Kristine had a Scottish rugby scarf and a plain black hat. Where she preferred red, this Kristine's wardrobe was made up of black and beige and browns. Where she found have had her books, this Kristine had Blondie albums. Strangest of all was the photograph on the wall.

It looked like a birthday party of sorts. A rather pathetic one where the banners were all crumbled and the balloons were already starting to deflate, but it seemed a well-meaning attempt. It might have happened right after a shift as everyone there was dressed in uniform. Well, almost everyone.

There was Lister, because of course they was Lister, dressed bright and obnoxious, wearing a million-dollar smile. Todhunter, or so she thought, was next to him, his hair a bit straighter and his grin a bit awkward. On the other side was... well that had to be McGruder. The eye colour was wrong, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen McGruder with her hair down, but that had to be her. She was smiling too, wide and blinding, and Kristine couldn't help but smile back. McGruder just had that effect on people. And if she wasn't mistaken, there was even Rimmer, hiding in the background, probably waiting for the photo to be finished so he could drag Lister away to get in his daily yelling.

And then, there was the woman in the middle. The woman with the, in Lister's words, 'pinball smile'.

She was smaller, rather dainty looking, and yet somehow, you got the feeling that she was far more rough and tumble than her size would suggest. She wasn't outrageously beautiful, but she looking charming, cheek, fun.

It seemed impossible, but the patch on her shirt said it all: Kristine Kochanski.

She hadn't been able to sleep the night she'd found that photo. Had spent the night staring up at the ceiling, the creaks and groans of the ship echoing in her ear as she thought about that photo.

It didn't make sense. A jumble of similar features - same hair, same skin, same gender - rearranged and organised to create two unrecognisable things.

She could imagine this Kristine bumming cigarettes off Lister after a tough shift, going out to drink with McGruder on the weekends and getting wasted for fun. She could imagine this Kristine grinning as she elbowed Todhunter in the side, teasing him about his crush, watching the rugby with Tim and yelling loudly for her team.

She could have never done that herself.

She'd resisted asking for a day, but then gave in. Holly gave her everything they knew about this Kristine, with the promise that Lister didn't need to know about this.

This Kristine had a different father.

Kristine knew him, he was her mum's best friend, but in this universe... well, they were apparently more.

She'd tried not to think about it, just as she tried not to think about the other Kristine, but it didn't work. She wondered and wondered and wondered. While she ate, while Kryten complained at her, while she read, while she ran for her life- it was always in the back of her mind. What had changed, what was the catalyst? Why him and not the man who was her father?

That, Holly didn't know.

A week after her first venture in, she visited The Room again.

She found a familiar well-worn diary filed with unfamiliar scrawling and events. She found a dusty teddy bear wearing a graduation hat congratulating her for surviving university. And she found, hidden behind a mirror on the desk, a picture of her and Lister.

It had obviously been taken at the same birthday the other picture had, but a few moments before everyone else had joined in. It was a strangely platonic picture.

Lister had always worn his heart on his grubby sleeve, and after they'd first broken up, it'd been painful to see photographs of them together, of how much he clearly cared. He always had an eye on her, a softness to his smile and a tight arm around her waist.

This Lister, looked straight at the camera, smile big and wide, an arm over her shoulder.

Maybe they had been friends before they dated, unlike her and Dave. And that lead to other thoughts.

Would this Kristine ever been able to love her Lister? Would this Kristine been able to handle being possibly the last human alive? Would this Kristine have wanted to be a mother, ever get into this whole mess in the first place? Would this Kristine have ever saved the cat?

"Wondered how long it'd take you to come 'ere."

Lister could be a surprisingly quiet man when he wanted to be. Her Dave didn’t often want to be; he liked to walk loud and talk louder, to make up for every silent step he’d ever taken.

Kristine didn't look away from the photograph in her hands, not even when Lister stopped beside her and sighed.

"Hope you're not too mad I didn' tell you 'bout my Kochanski. Thought it'd jus' make you feel weird."

"...Well, you were right about that. I can't believe how different we are. Why did you even believe me when I said I was her?"

Lister shrugged, and she finally looked away from the photo. She wondered if Lister had felt like this when he saw Dave.

"Weirder things have been true. 'Sides, the other me seemed to think you were, so I guessed it was jus' some weird parallel universe thing."

"...I suppose weirder things have happened."

Lister leaned over her shoulder, and let out a breathy laugh.

"God, I didn' know she kept tha' one. Thought she threw it out after Tim."

"She hid it behind her mirror."

It was strange talking about someone who was technically yourself in the third person.

He gently took it out of her hands and smiled down at the photo. There was silence in the room for a while, not an awkward one, but not an easy one either.

Eventually, the smile left and Lister ran his thumb over the frame.

"...Sorry I'm not more like your Lister."

She blinked, frowning ever so slightly. She knew that look; her Dave wore it well. He’d worn it a lot before he’d been given his hard-light body.

"Don't apologise, please. You shouldn't be sorry for that, just like I'm not sorry for not being your Kristine... I'm sorry you didn't get anything like us though, me and Dave."

He shrugged, a half-smile on his face.

"I'll get somethin'."

"With who? This Kristine is dead."

Again, he shrugged.

"Weirder things have happened."

There was something missing here, a blacked-out sentence in a banned book, but she didn't push it. This wasn’t her Dave to push and prod. Just like she wasn’t his Kristine to love. Perhaps they could be something though, something like that Kristine and Lister in the picture.

She put a hand on his back and leaned against his arm. He kept his eyes on the photograph.

In the end, she took from McGruder's wardrobe. The clothes there were a better fit.

#it's a bit messy i like wrote half of it last night before bed asdf #Kristine Kochanski #Red Dwarf #fanfiction #David Lister

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iawv · 4 years

Text

She Called Him Fen’Harel

For those who are interested, I would suggest re-read first chapter since it was re-written from scratch. Chapter 12 is still WIP.

Chapter 1 - “Falherna”

She came to the world on a bright morning, flooded with the orange light of the sunrise. Surrounded by the forest, the smell of trees and moss.

She came with ease, calmness, and silence.

She came to the world with death by her side and death took the first toll - her mother.

She came to the world with hope. Hope to be loved, caressed, nourished.

She came to the world into the warm hands, holding her, lulling her.

She came with sadness, with tears touching her cheeks. Tears of loss and pain.

She came to the world with curious, wide-open eyes, bright blue like the sky, red hair and delicately pointed ears.

She came to the world with innocence, pure heart, and goodness, like every new-born.

She came with a name — Celia — the name of someone already forgotten, someone who was lost to her before she knew it.

She came with no expectations of the world, of the people.

She came to the world which destroyed her, hardened her heart and toughen her skin.

* * *

She came to the world with all that was good, pure and all of that was gone.

The world offered her trials, tribulations, doubts, and frustrations.

The world she came to was violent, merciless, full of joy and sorrow, anguish and pain.

Nonetheless, the world gave her a man, her father, a promise of another tomorrow. The greatest gift of all that's what he was.

In the world without a home, he was her rock, her solitude, her teacher and her guardian.

The world is not dangerous because of those who do harm but because of those who look at it without doing anything, he reminded her.

Barefaced like her he had no home, no past, no clan. He belonged nowhere and everywhere.

Curious, bright blue eyes observed him and belonged with him — throughout the hands that held her when she was born, the warm voice calming her, his magic which he was wielding proudly, his dreams he described beautifully and his love which he shared endlessly with her.

The world destroyed her so she could be saved.

* * *

The world gave her magic — frightening, tingling sensation on the tips of her fingers. The power she knew but couldn't control, couldn't comprehend.

Her mind felt too tight, her body too small to contain it.

I will teach you to control it, my daughter.

That he did.

* * *

Her father kept secrets. Secrets he shared only with his diary — a thick, leather notebook.

It will be yours once I am gone, Celia. Be patient.

So she was.

Her father taught her patience.

He gave her travels — through forests, meadows, mountains, old ruins.

He gave her knowledge of reading and writing, of cities, villages, and clans. Knowledge of the history of the world, the language of ancient elves and skills to survive.

He gave her wolves, terrifying animals which she befriended.

He gave her Fen'Harel — the legend, the tale, the statues seen in many parts of the land and the man who once lived.

He gave her love — the fairytale she never knew and never felt.

You can't hurry love, force it. When you love you just do, and you enjoy every second spent with them. Appreciate it cause loved one comes and go.

So she listened and believed him.

He gave her everything he could but still, he kept his secrets.

* * *

He took her to towns, taught how to stay hidden, how to speak with humans and trade with them. He taught her when to lie when, to tell the truth.

He taught her the mastery of cleverness — to lie with the truth.

He taught her when to speak and when to spare the words. He took her to city elves and Dalish.

He took her to many places that taught her the truth she already knew — she did not belong anywhere and everywhere.

He taught her the taste of blood and murder. He gave her a comparison between killing and surviving.

He did whatever he could to prepare her for the world.

He did not fail.

* * *

Dalish. Elves. People.

They gave her forced vallaslin to ground her to convince her she belongs, to release her from the influence of Fen'Harel.

They gave her a new name — Falherna. The anagram of the name of her beloved god.

He caught your scent a long time ago. You are doomed, they said.

Dalish taught her how to pitty them and avoid them, how to lie to them. They showed her their stubbornness, their fears, and superstitions.

They called her mad, abomination. To them she was dangerous.

Still, they violated her carnality. Act against her will. Once more the world destroyed her, so she could be saved.

* * *

Humans. Shemlens.

They killed her father, left her brokenhearted, burning with hatred. They stained her hands with blood, woke something dark and grim inside her - she took pleasure in killing them.

For the last time, the world destroyed her.

This time she could not be saved.

* * *

A blank page in her life history. A void no one and nothing could fill.

Her father's secrets stayed out of her reach. The only token of his was locked by a spell. She had left with nothing.

The dark time came. Weeks, months full of anger, guilt, hate.

Self-destruction was her desire. Loneliness reminded her every day about her loss.

Alienation was her choice. Longing after what was lost did not want to leave her.

She just was. Existing, breathing, observing, absorbing, functioning without interacting.

* * *

Fen. The wolf.

He came to her life in a forest on a day when life seemed senseless.

He gave her a second chance. A chance for redemption.

When they found each other, they were both wounded and alone.

He gave her her smile back, her heart and a purpose in life.

He saved her when the world did not care.

* * *

New life.

The world allowed her to start fresh.

She preferred forests, sleeping among the stars, but she traveled from one city to another. Making contacts, making deals which could be advantageous in the future.

She had two lives — one with Fen, one without him.

Necessity.

That's what kept her in cities and clans.

She was the outsider, one who showed up and then disappeared when the necessities were fulfilled.

* * *

The world gave her loneliness.

Life without a companion. She accepted it, learn to live with it.

Still, she loved with all her heart. She loved her wolf, loved nature, loved living. She loved the man who once lived — Fen'Harel. Dreams of him she kept close to her heart and the Fade sometimes responded to her unfulfilled desires. Responded with grey fur and steel-blue eyes. Lonely dreams were her companion. She knew she could go with life alone.

* * *

Faron. City elf. Assassin.

He occasionally drifted through her life. He seemed so young with his impatience, impulsivity, and temper.

Still, she liked him. His fierceness, laughter, his honesty.

He gave her friendship, new abilities, and companions.

A new profession. A group of men.

Men who did not blindly follow something that others defined as the truth.

Individuals who were not limited by morality or laws.

Their lives were brief and unimportant. The world cared nothing for them.

Her new friends allowed her to seek redemption, not revenge. Gave her a new weapon and new clothes. They opened her eyes to the cruelty she only heard of before.

They made her a part of something important and big. She felt important, strong.

The world seemed a better place for once. It almost felt like she belonged.

She felt saved.

* * *

Sabrae clan.

The light in the darkness.

She hunted for them, traded for them. Another necessity in her life but different from others.

Marethari. Keeper.

Woman of knowledge, open-minded, understanding.

She gave her a small flicker of hope. Hope for dialogue, respect, and connection between her and Dalish.

Yet the world had another plan — for some she still was a dangerous, mad outsider.

The world offered no peace, not even a short break.

She fought and endured. She was just a means to an end.

She accomplished her missions and left again. * * *

Kirkwall.

The city of chains — metaphorically and literally.

It gave her desperate need to run back to Fen, forests, mountains, and seas.

Necessity and Faron made her stay, and so she did.

Days seemed long and dirty. Nights were too loud and uncomfortable.

She did not complain. It was more she ever had — a bed, an armor, friends, and food.

The world gave her a break, peace of mind. For a time there was only a job, evenings with her crew and nights filled with dreams.

Yet, Kirkwall made her anxious.

Something was in the air. Something unsettling.

She blessed the world when she left it behind.

* * *

Now. The conclave.

Standing on a hill near the forest, she looked at the horizon thinking on Anders's actions, Merrill, The Keeper, and the people she left behind.

She shook her head at the thought. The world was about to change. The Conclave was near and the fate of all people depended on the negotiations, which were soon to begin.

She felt the upcoming danger, the air smelled of electricity as though before a storm, ozone was palatable in the growing wind and the sky had taken on a strange sea like color, neither blue nor green.

Templars and Mages were approaching from either side of the world, entrusting their hope in the Most Holy Divine Justinia, and in her idea to stop the conflict which had been growing more and more dangerous for months.

Fen howled loudly and his fur ruffled.

She patted his head, speaking quietly "I can feel it too, my friend".

Grey eyes lingered on her face for what felt like the longest time and her hand stayed on his back, petting and comforting the animal.

"You must go now. I'll find you, ma Fen" she kneeled beside him.

The wolf howled again touching her hand with his wet nose "Fen'Harel will guide you. We will meet again".

She petted him, delighted by the warmth of his body and roughness of his fur. She rose slowly, moving her gaze back to the horizon and to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

"Go now" her voice was unyielding.

Goodbyes to the ones you love had to be made quickly, without unnecessary words.

The animal stayed at her side for another moment, then with a flick of his tail, he made his way slowly into the forest.

There was no need to watch over him.

The wolf knew how to find a way back to her.

In a few hours, she would meet him again, in the forest near Haven.

Her lips stretched into a smile when she thought about spending more time with her wolf.

The last mission was short ahead, and then she would be saved from the world for good.

#She Called Him Fen'Harel fic #She Called Him FenHarel #Solas #Falherna #fanfic #DAI fic #solavellan fic #solavellan

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shannaraisles · 4 years

Text

Comfort & Ploy - Chapter 5

Carver Hawke needs a girlfriend for the festive season. Filipa Trevelyan needs an excuse not to spend Satinalia with her parents. Best friends pretending to be lovers … what could possibly go wrong?

[Read on AO3]

*****

"Auntie Pip?"

"Hmm?"

Filipa turned toward the curious little voice just in time to get a face full of snow, thrown by the most mischievous child she had ever known. Spluttering, she batted the stuff out of her mouth, eyes narrowing at the giggling Alys.

"Oh, you're for it now, Nuglet!"

She bent to scoop up a handful of snow herself, ducking as Alys tossed another snowball her way. It hit her shoulder, scattering soft crystals everywhere, but Filipa was already straightening up with her own snowball, taking aim as Alys squealed and ran for it over the snow. The ball hit the redhead square in the back, making her shout with laughter again as she grabbed for more herself. Babysitting unexpectedly for an afternoon was turning out to be fun.

"Carver?" she called back toward the house.

There was a pause before the kitchen window opened and the tall man leaned out, tilting his head toward her as another snowball smashed against her hip.

"This might take a while," Filipa informed him with a grin and a wink, chuckling as he laughed and ducked back inside out of the cold.

Alys' own grin faltered a little when she saw the size of the snowball her aunt then started to put together.

"Nooo! Uncle Carver, you havta save me!"

Filipa took off running after the little girl, already breathless with laughter at the squealing that erupted from her sister's little girl in the face of being thoroughly beaten in a snowball fight. It seemed as though Alys wasn't used to people fighting back for real. She certainly screamed loudly enough when her aunt brought the big snowball down on her head, cackling along with Filipa at the ridiculous playtime she had initiated.

"No fair!" Alys complained through her grin. "You've got longer legs than me!"

"You started it!" Filipa countered, scooping more into her gloved hands.

She grunted as Alys barrelled into her, knocking her off her feet and into the snow on her back, her half-made missile disintegrating in the fall. As Alys scuttled off, she sat up, patting the snow out of her hair.

"Who's cheating now?" she demanded, only just getting her hands up in time to fend off another attack aimed straight for her face again.

"It's not cheating when it's me, because I am cute!" was the counter.

Filipa laughed as she rose onto her feet, swiping packed snow off her backside.

"That is not a good enough excuse," she argued in amusement. "I'm at least as cute as you!"

"Betcha my Daddy doesn't think so!"

Alys ducked as Filipa tossed more snow her way, snickering happily. None of them had been expecting Cullen and Mila to be called back to the zoo, but then, no one could accurately predict the birthing habits of Antivan tigers, it seemed. It was a pretty huge compliment to be trusted with Alys and their home, and with Carver busy in the kitchen, no one was going to go hungry. Filipa was well aware that she was a hopeless cook - left to her, Alys would have been eating take-out tonight while her parents hovered over a laboring tigress.

Game over was called, however, when Alys managed to get a handful of snow up and underneath Filipa's coat, leaving droplets of freezing water to trickle down her back and soak into her shirt.

"Fine, you win," she conceded, catching her niece about the waist to swing her around to face the house. "And your lips are going blue, so we're going inside, Nuglet."

"That was fun!" the little redhead exclaimed as they tramped over the porch, kicking the snow from their boots before stepping inside to divest themselves of said boots, coats, hats and gloves. "Daddy says Mama liked to play in the snow, but when him and Mum play, they always let me win. I like winning for real."

"I still maintain that you cheat," Filipa assured her, smiling warmly.

It felt strange when Alys referred to her birth mother, Rory, but it was getting easier to deal with. Rory's death had left a hole in Cullen and Alys' lives that Mila was adamant she would not even attempt to fill, instead making her own space alongside the memory of the woman who had made them both so happy to begin with. Still, it was a good thing that both mothers were so precious to Alys. Filipa could not be happier for her sister to have found so warm and loving a home to be a part of.

"Maker's breath, look at the state of you two," Carver said, peering at them from the kitchen door. "Just as well I made cocoa, isn't it?"

Alys' eyes went round with hopeful excitement.

"Real cocoa?" she asked. "With real chocolate and marshmallows?"

Carver grinned at her.

"What do you take me for?" he replied. "I'll have you know that I refuse to drink cocoa made with powder, thank you so very much."

"Go wash your hands," Filipa told her niece before Alys could pounce on Carver and give him one of those hugs that seemed to completely flummox him. "I'm going to steal one of your mum's tops, since mine is mysteriously soaking wet."

Snickering cheerfully, Alys obediently disappeared upstairs in the direction of the bathroom, leaving Filipa usher Carver back into the kitchen so she could reach the laundry room. Mila was hardly going to begrudge her a spare top after an emergency babysitting afternoon.

"So cocoa before dinner?" she asked, ducking into the laundry room to grab the first clean top that came to hand.

Carver was already back at the stove, stirring the contents of the saucepan. She had to admit, it smelled delicious. He had almost certainly added spice to it as well as using real chocolate.

"It's going to be at least an hour before dinner's ready," he said absently, glancing over as she came back into the kitchen.

"Oh, I guess that's not so bad, then," she agreed, pulling her shirt off over her head.

She missed the sudden catch of breath in his throat, dropping her wet shirt onto the table so she could pull Mila's dry one on instead. It wasn't as though they hadn't changed clothes in front of each other before; it happened all the time in the firehouse, and she was determined not to act as though anything had changed between them. After all, she was the one with the emotions making themselves known. He didn't deserve to have her feelings sloshed all over him.

Pulling her hair out of the collar of the shirt, she turned back toward Carver, only to find him staring at her. And ... is he blushing? He was. Carver, her best friend who never seemed to have noticed she was female before, was blushing at the sight of her changing her top in front of him. Despite her best intentions, Filipa felt herself grin.

"Enjoying the view there?" she asked innocently.

Carver cleared his throat, jerking his gaze away from her to the cocoa on the stove-top. Even his ears were pink. Blessed Andraste ... he likes me, she realized, feeling happy warmth blossoming in her chest. He actually fancies me! How in the Void did I miss that?

"You don't need to be embarrassed," she added, moving closer to gently nudge her shoulder to his arm. "I generally enjoy the view from here, too."

All right, so maybe it wasn't the best way to broach the subject of mutual pining, but it was worth it to see his mouth drop open in genuine surprise. She had rendered Carver Hawke speechless. If she wasn't so delighted about the actual cause of it, she would definitely have made a show of marking the date in her diary.

"Are you going to smooch?"

Alys' interruption might have been perfectly timed. Filipa was pretty sure neither she nor Carver were quite ready for this conversation, nor was it something they should talk about in her sister's house when Mila and Cullen could walk in at any moment, not to mention be overheard by a nosy little girl. She smiled at Carver, winking at him, and turned to Alys as he reached for the mugs.

"No, Nuglet, we are not going to smooch," she informed her niece, wrapping an arm about the girl's shoulders. "You and me are going to choose a movie for everyone to watch while we have cocoa and wait for dinner to be ready. Sound good?"

Alys nodded, tucking her shorter arm around her aunt's waist easily. Filipa was pretty sure the kid was tired from playing outside in the cold, but was at that age where she would never admit to needing a quick nap to recover from having fun. A movie and a warm drink should sort that right out. Carver seemed to have recovered as well; he turned to follow them, three mugs clasped securely in his large hands.

"Let's get to it then, shall we?" he suggested, gesturing with the mugs for the two ladies to go ahead of him.

Predictably enough, Alys was fairly insistent on watching "A Muppet Satinalia Carol", a movie that Mila also loved and apparently Cullen was very good at appearing to tolerate with good grace. He was subjected to it multiple times every year, after all. Filipa, however, had no objection to the silly movie, settling down onto the couch with Alys curled up under her arm. Carver hesitated only a moment before easing his long frame down onto the couch beside Filipa, comfortably settling his own arm about her shoulders.

She glanced up at him, absolutely certain she was blushing but stubborn enough to smile through it and brazen it out. He smiled back down at her, and turned his attention to the screen, lifting his cup to his lips. Grinning to herself, she turned her own attention to the movie, relaxing into the couch and the nonchalant cuddling on either side of her.

They might have started this as a means to an end, but that end had definitely altered now. Now all she had to do was work out exactly how to break it to Carver that this relationship of theirs was real.

That might take some planning.

#comfort & ploy #dragon age #modern au #dear friend universe #carver hawke #filipa trevelyan #alys rutherford #babysitting #snowball fight #cocoa #festive movies #mutual pining #fake dating #friends to lovers

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wildcard47 · 5 years

Text

green pastures (pg); fitzier

prompt: James proposes to Francis; Francis misunderstands and thinks he’s being officially asked to marry James to someone else a la that scene in The Vicar of Dibley.

I promised @full-of-terrors this adorable little prompt fill ages ago and finally get to post it! Hope you enjoy!

When the knock sounded at his front door just after three bells, Francis could find no reason to avoid answering it, even if he had meant to go to bed within the next few minutes.

He’d been so damn dispirited since James’s stupid bloody boyfriend came into town. Not that he would have admitted this to another soul.

Not as if Le Vesconte was actually James’s boyfriend, either. By all accounts they were only mates; Henry never seemed like the type to go bi all of the sudden, given how much harping on he’d done about his on-again, off-again girlfriend.

But James did keep mentioning all these hot bumbly dates he’d had while he was down in London – whatever that meant – and since Francis did not drink anymore, the only way anyone could find out he was depressed about this turn in events was if they came to his living room and stopped him eating bagfuls of crisps while watching a bunch of old Frasier episodes.

What did it matter if his ex-boyfriend was going on other dates? They’d only gone out six and a half times, more than three years ago. And now he’d moved back to town all of the sudden. The man was free to go anywhere he liked.

Expecting it was Jane Franklin come to complain about Neptune, Francis was startled to see James standing there when he opened the door.

“Hi.”

James smiled at him; it looked strained and unnatural. “Hello.”

“So, er.” Francis’s mind was full of questions it was probably rude to voice, especially to someone you’d been avoiding for nearly a week. “How – how are things?”

“Actually,” James did not even hang up his coat, just turned by the rack, one hand now tracing over the spine of a closed umbrella. “Can I – I’ve something important to ask you, if you don’t mind. Well. Obviously I can ask you questions without you minding them, only this pertains to the type of question rather than the principle of the thing.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Not here to give a lecture on forms of the interrogative.”

“Er. Yeah, obviously. You can talk to me about whatever you like.” Francis narrowed his eyes. “Are you all right?”

You seem…. anxious, he wanted to point out.

“Me? Fine. A bit jumpy, you know, but had a lot of caffeine today, so that’s understandable. Four flat whites. Can you believe – sorry. I’m rambling now. Suppose I may as well ask this right out. Francis, have you ever thought about, er, marrying anyone?”

“Oh.” Francis could not have said why this question left him so disappointed. He didn’t think topics as boring as Naval protocol would bring James to his front door at eleven thirty at night. “Well, yeah. I mean, strictly hypothetical, mind. Not had reason to yet.”

Most of the people he’d served with so far were already married or far too young to try. And barring that, none of them had wanted to be married on the ship. Or by Francis.

“Yes. Not as if you’re imagining it daily. You’ve always been a practical sort. Aren’t given to flights of fancy.”

“No,” agreed Francis.

“No.” James swallowed hard, bit his lip. “Anyway, you’ll remember from – I mean, the conversations we had – that I have always admired marriage. As an institution. Even before I actually aspired to be part of it. You know? It’s a, ah, very good thing to my mind. Or it should be, given the many benefits.”

“Time can change even the most stubborn man, I suppose.” Francis tried to smile. “So, you’re, ah, ready to take the plunge at last, hm?”

“Yeah. Yes.” James seemed to steel himself. “I mean. Not just for the sake of it. I want to. Have wanted to, really. For a long time.”

“Makes sense,” said Francis, in an attempt at being neutral.

“Does to me, as well.” That brief, strained smile was back.

“Well, that’s – great news.”

He had not decided what the rest of his sentence would be, but it apparently didn’t matter, because James blurted out something very loudly.

“Francis, would you – do me the honor of marrying me?”

Francis’s heart sped up, and his stomach twisted with distress, but he tried not to showcase any of these feelings to James. Can’t hurt him.

“You… want me to marry you?”

Christ, he could picture it now: James blindingly handsome in his dress blues, in the local church or outside in the park or even aboard Battalion, standing hand-in-hand on the quarterdeck with some stupid blonde blockhead while Francis stood between them, a borrowed, well-worn Bible in his hands, thumbing through the chaplain’s notes on love and honour and duty and wanting to pitch himself off the crow’s nest instead.

“Can’t imagine asking anyone else,” said James, voice hitching slightly.

Oh. Damn it.

“Well, ah – I don’t mean to make you wait for an answer, obviously, it’s just – I’m a bit – surprised, is all. No one’s ever – asked me before.”

“Really?”

Why was James looking at him like that, as if he were afraid taking his eyes off of Francis for even a second meant he might disappear? The man seemed to be one sentence away from a total nervous breakdown.

“And it’s been a long time since we’ve. Er. I mean, of course it would be – wonderful – ”

“Yeah.”

“Let me just have a look at my diary,” Francis said, by way of stalling, hoping against hope that James had his heart set on a specific date and time and that he was going to be out of the country on that blessed morning. Or perhaps dead. Dying would get you out of marrying your ex-boyfriend to his new boyfriend, wouldn’t it? “Knowing you, you’ve already got your heart set on a specific month.”

“God, no,” answered James in a rush. “Honestly, Francis, if it helps, you can pick any day of the year you damn well please.”

“Right.” Francis turned another page, then another, with no clue as to what he was bloody reading. “Well. Er. That’s….a lot to choose from. Plenty of options.”

He meant to say something about how most people liked summer weddings, or that all the good reception places would be booked years in advance so James shouldn’t get his heart set on having it done anytime soon – the sort of vapid, oddly-prophetic comments Sophia used to say to him all the time when she was turning him down. Course, Francis was actually asking her to be his wife, then, so it was different.

When James spoke again, after a long, agonizing silence, it was in the quietest voice Francis had ever heard. As if he might weep.

“You don’t want to do it, do you?”

“What?” At James’s raised eyebrow, Francis deflated. “James, it isn’t – obviously, I don’t want to rush into an answer if it’s the wrong one. You – well, you’re important to me.”

“I know that.”

“And I’m really touched that you’d ask me after all this time. Truly I am. But I – should probably think about it, before I answer one way or the other.”

James’s expression slammed closed, then, almost as suddenly as it used to whenever Admiral Franklin walked aboard.

“Don’t tiptoe around it. Not with me.” He cleared his throat, gave Francis a jerky nod. “It – if that’s what you feel, then your answer’s already no. Which is all right. Erm. Silly of me to have thought…”

It was as if Francis were reliving the day they broke up, three years before; he could not understand why saying I’ll think about it would provoke such a fierce reaction.

“I should go,” murmured James.

Oh, god, why was he going so soon? Was he angry? James couldn’t be angry when the words he was saying were so kind and understanding.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do. I really do.”

They had reached the door; James opened it, clearly ready to step out without another word. He’d leave forever and it would be all Francis’s fault. Fucking hell, why could he not agree to put his own bloody pride aside when it came right down to it?

“Stop – bloody walking, damn it!” Francis squeezed his eyes closed, summoned every last ounce of strength. “I’ll do it, all right? James, I’ll – if you want me to perform a ceremony, I can do. For you. I – owe you that much. I want you to have that.”

A terrible silence settled over the room as James turned away from the open door.

“Perform the ceremony?”

“Yeah.” Francis opened his eyes, tried to tamp down the avalanche of curse words that were building in the back of his mind. He would not stutter. He would not weep. “Ship’s captain, powers that be, whatever. I’ll do it, you’ll be married, and then you’ll – well. Be happy.”

Without me.

“Francis, no.” James opened and closed his mouth, threaded the distance between them before taking Francis’s hand in both of his. “No, no, no. That’s not what I meant at all. I – good god, man. Who the bloody hell else am I in love with? I’m saying I want to marry you. I’m asking for your hand, Francis.”

“Mine,” was all Francis whispered.

James peered closely at his baffled expression. “I – you know how I feel about you. Don’t you?”

Francis was now so shocked he couldn’t speak.

“Why d’you think I’d come here in the middle of the night and ramble on about marriage if I didn’t want to propose? For Christ’s sake, I’ve not stopped thinking about us for three years. Every day I wanted to call you. Write to you. Just – see you getting coffee on the way to work. And then we end up living in the same town again, going to all the same events, and it – I mean, you’ve no idea how terrified I was, to think you’d moved on with your life. And now….Francis, I honestly can’t imagine being anywhere without you at my side. I want to marry you. I want us to get – old and fat and weird together. Think we’d be rather good at that last bit, actually.”

“So you,” Francis could hardly draw air into his lungs. “You mean you’re – ”

“Marry me, Francis.” James squeezed his fingers, encouraging. “Please.”

Unable to say anything else, Francis sat right down on the carpet, because his knees would no longer hold him up, and covered his mouth with a shaking hand to suppress the high-pitched squeak trying to claw its way from his throat.

“I’m all right,” he kept whispering, although he was not: he was swiping big fat tears from his face with the back of one hand, and James was hovering at his side, still babbling away although Francis couldn’t hear any of the words; meanwhile, Neptune was barking like a bloody demon dog, rushing in and out of the open door in obvious confusion, wagging his tail and licking Francis’s salt-damp fingers every so often, and Jesus bloody Christ.

James wanted to marry him.

“Francis.”

Glancing up with a very unromantic snort, trying to swallow the knot of tears in his throat, Francis met James’s concerned gaze and finally – finally – managed to say something.

“Okay.”

James’s face brightened. His grip on Francis’s shoulders tightened. “Oh my god. Really?”

“Yeah.” Francis was grinning now. “I’ll marry you, James.”

Squealing in delight, now peppering Francis’s face with kisses and hugging him tightly, James eventually pulled away and let out a victorious howl of a cheer. Hearing this, Neptune decided to join in, baying joyously at the open front door before trotting forward to see what was going on on the front stoop.

James had already jumped to his feet to join him, calling out to the entire neighborhood with his hands cupped around his mouth. “Francis is gonna marry me!”

“Jesus Christ. I have neighbors!”

“Francis is gonna marry m – oh, Neptune, no!” A black blur darted out of the doorway, running pell mell toward the street. Cursing, James took off after him, now sounding much less cheerful. “Come back here this instant – no! Right – now!”

Judging by how fast James was now sprinting down the driveway and toward the curb, as well as the yowling, Neptune was probably after Mrs. Franklin’s tomcat again.

Laughing hysterically as James tried and failed to capture a boisterous Newfie with nothing more than his bare hands, Francis watched with faint pride as his fiancé – a romantic, dashing hero of a man – stumbled and fell into the side of next door’s recycling bin, knocking it backwards onto the lawn. A delighted Neptune stopped his mischief to come back and run circles around James and all the now-visible rubbish, occasionally stopping to look back at Francis and bark loudly.

“Well, he’s killed me,” James called theatrically from his prone position, as a very happy dog decided the best thing to do was sit in James’s lap. With a huff, Neptune sat down, then flopped sideways, draping his chest directly over James’s ribs. Four enormous paws splayed out around James’s middle. James groaned and winced as he absorbed the full weight of this gift. “I might die before we get to celebrate.”

“Yeah, you’re stuck now,” offered Francis as he walked closer. On an impulse, he tossed the jacket in his hand onto the damp ground and lay down next to them.

“Nnngh,” whined James, but he was grinning.

Francis leaned over, pressed a kiss to James’ forehead. “See? Completely stuck.”

#prompt fill #full-of-terrors #fitzier #francis crozier/james fitzjames #this is the small-town vicar of dibley AU of our dreams

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ramimami-blog · 5 years

Text

...and it’s all on camera. (Eternally Yours pt. 1)

This is my very first piece of writing involving my original character Miyuki. She is an Until Dawn/Diary of a Wimpy Kid OC (because clearly they take place in the same universe, i’m dead serious). I intend to release an xfem!reader version of this fic, but for tonight this what I’m releasing.

A/n: condoms break, use plan b lmao. Warnings: smut, breaking condoms, noise. Seriously, always have back up birth control and if your condom breaks get tested a month after, please. Also slight coercion at the beginning, which can make some people uncomfy. Minor race play.

Word Count: 3,687k (I WENT OVERBOARD I KNOW)

If anyone wants to know more about this OC before/after reading, here is my RP post for her.

“This is not what I agreed to, Washington!” she scolded her boyfriend, gently pushing the camera out of her pale face as he smirked down at her, that genuine smirk that always drove the shorter female wild.

“Yes you did, you said it, you said I could record it!” “No! I was kidding!” “That’s not how it would look in a court transcript!”

Miyuki groaned loudly, her hands moving to cover her breasts in embarrassment. This was humiliating for her, but at the same time she wondered if she could ever say no to him. To those eyes, to those lips, to that nose.

She thought about it for another moment, pouting hard while crossing her arms over her breasts. Josh still had the camera focused on her face as it pouted, admiring her through the viewfinder for a moment.

“Hot Asian babe thoroughly dicked down by white boyfriend,” Josh said with a smile. Miyuki tilted her head. “What?!” “Thinkin’ about titles for it...”

The tiny woman’s eyes widened hard, hands reaching for the camera as she stepped forward swiftly, closing the gap between the two of them as Josh cackled almost wildly.

“You are NOT uploading this ANYWHERE, Washington!” “It’s gotta be illegal for me to keep such primo porn to myself, sweetie!” “... No!”

Josh sighed in defeat for a moment, lowering the camera as he took the woman’s chin in his hand gently. He towered over her, she was so tiny, barely standing over five feet tall. So thin, so faelike, the love of his life.

His thumb raked across her bottom lip, his fingers tilting her head up gently. Of course some part of him wanted to respect that she was saying no, but how could he? Miyuki was a goddess of lust and beauty in his eyes, she was a being near worthy of worship and having her at her most primal, most lustful on camera was just too gorgeous a thought to let go of.

He smiled at her, leaning in a little closer and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Please?”

Please... The word echoed in her head for a moment as she stood there, looking up into his eyes and silently weighing the pros and cons of being filmed at her most vulnerable. She loved Josh with all of her heart, and truthfully had wanted to explore their sex life further. Miyuki just didn’t know how to approach it without sounding like what they had wasn’t enough for her.

“Fine.”

Josh pressed another kiss to her cheek, harder this time as he turned the floor lamp on, lightly illuminating the room as he began to look through the view finder again.

“And what’s this pretty little porn star’s name?” Josh asked with a smirk, watching as Miyuki removed her arms from her breasts with a smile.

“Miyuki...” “God what a hot ass name... gonna... do something special?” Josh was clearly referring to something Miyuki did with a condom, one of his favorite parts of being intimate with her.

Josh reached into his back pocket, withdrawing a thin condom and handing it to her. Once she took a hold of it, Miyuki instantly ripped it open with her pearly white teeth.

As the young Asian sank down to her knees, Josh began to remove his pants, unzipping them and watching his girlfriend through the view finder with lustful eyes. His erection was already starting to grow, he was so eager to be inside of her, and so eager to hear her whimper.

The young woman hooked her fingers in the waist band of his black boxers, pulling them down and allowing his semi-hard cock to flop out in front of her. Her smile widened a bit, her eyes locked on the camera as she began peppering his cock with kisses, her lipstick leaving a trail of marks up and down the pale flesh.

To Miyuki, Josh’s cock was always worthy of worship. Often times if she had it her way, she would just suck on his cock like a lollipop until he blew up in her mouth, putting her own pleasure behind of her just to watch him squirm.

But not tonight. She had a delicious show to put on.

Joshua groaned lowly as his cock hardened quickly from the mixture of the kisses, and the fact he was getting it all on camera. He loved knowing he would be able to jerk himself off to this video when she couldn’t be reacted for a trip to the bone zone, and part of him liked thinking that if he uploaded it somewhere, other men would lust after a woman that only he could plow.

His cock was near full erection status when Miyuki shoved him into her mouth, stopping half way down and swirling her tongue around the sensitive flesh. Josh tossed his head back, letting out a very pleased groan. The young, tiny woman kept her eyes on the camera as she bounced her head back and forth along the length of his shaft.

Josh, always being a gentleman, reached down, bundling her hair up and holding it on the back of her head, gently pushing her head down over more of his cock, groaning lowly as his gorgeous girlfriend slurped on his cock.

After a few moments, Josh released her hair, giving a soft slap to her cheek and winking.

Miyuki unlatched her mouth from his cock slowly, carefully, a small line of spit attaching her lips to his manhood for a moment before she took the condom, and placed it into her mouth.

She looked up into the camera for a moment, showing it off in her mouth before taking a firm hold of Josh’s cock, and pushing her mouth back down over it. It was a hard technique to master, but she had mastered it for him, she loved the way it drove him crazy, loved the way he looked at her while she did it.

Her fingers wrapped around the edge of the condom, holding it steady as she slowly pulled her mouth backwards, dragging it almost cutely over his shaft and wiggling her rear end. When Josh’s member came out of her lips it was with a cute pop and a giggle, she was just asking to be fucked stupid when she acted like that, and Josh knew it.

Josh kept an eye on her through the viewfinder as she admired her work. Miyuki had a filthy little mouth and it was something he loved the most about her. The way she gladly took his cock into her mouth was one of the most erotic things he had ever witnessed, she loved the taste of it as much as he loved tasting himself upon her tongue.

Miyuki purred as she pushed herself back up onto her feet, Josh pulled her into a kiss. The couple began flicking their tongues together as the male began to push the smaller female towards his bed. Once the back of her legs hit the fabric of his blanket, he stopped the kiss and pushed her backwards, hard. Miyuki giggled as she fell back onto the bed, leaning up on her elbows and eyeing him anxiously.

The young girl was apprehensive at first, but now she needed to feel him inside of her, wanted to cry and squeal and cum all over his cock until the sun came up. The need in her eyes was undeniable, Josh could see it but he had to make sure she was ready first.

Crawling onto the bed, Josh pushed her legs wide open and sat the camera down. Miyuki grabbed it, blowing a kiss to the lens before turning it so it had a view of Josh’s head between her legs.

Her cunt was soft, pink, and waxed. A thin gloss of her own juices was layered over the sensitive flesh that Josh quickly licked up, his thick tongue raking up her slit from her tight hole to the edge of her clit, giving a smirk to the camera once he swallowed.

“You look sexy down there...” Miyuki mused as his tongue quickly went to work. Josh’s arms wrapped around her thighs. A giggle came from her mouth, one hand letting go of the camera to reach down and rake through those chocolate locks. Her toes twitched softly from the friction his tongue was giving her clit, her eyes fluttered for a moment. Josh was extremely talented with his mouth and it always took her by surprise.

Keeping the camera angled downward, Miyuki allowed herself to relax against the bed. Her moans were soft, mingling with the licks and slopping noses from between her legs. The room was quickly filling up with the scent and sound of a couple being intimate, the camera in her manicured hands capturing every moment.

Josh groaned softly, pulling his mouth away from her cunt, prompting a different, more irritated groan from the small Asian girl. “What the fuck...” but before she could complain anymore, she felt that all too familiar sensation of Josh’s middle and ring fingers jamming into her hole.

Her jaw dropped, the camera focusing on his grin before she moved it back on his fingers as they twisted upward, craning inside of her as he started to move them back and forth, slipping in and out of her soaked little snatch eagerly, as if fucking her with his hand was the only thing that mattered at the moment.

“Mine...” Joshua growled out, and for a second she was unsure if he was talking about the camera or her body... or both? He gently took the camera from her hands, and turned it onto her, slowly showing a view of his fingers ramming in and out of her wetness, before bringing it back up to her cute little moaning face.

“Tell everyone who’s cunt this is?”

Those brown eyes rolled softly, her moans stopping for a moment. “Yours, who else would it belong to?” “Sweet...”

Josh’s hand sped up immediately, clapping against the flesh around her hole. Those moans got louder, her legs began to twitch lightly against his body between them, toes curling into the blankets beneath her.

“G... gonna...” her elbows dug into the bed as she sat up slightly, her eyes desperate for a glimpse of what Josh’s fingers looked like, seeing them gleaming with her juices before disappearing back inside of her. The sight sent her right back down, her hands moving to yank at her ebony locks in desperation.

Her first orgasm was drawing closer, and Josh knew it... and his smirk deepened.

“Not yet, not yet, nope,” he panted out, thrusting his fingers in deep for a moment before pulling them out with a grunt. Miyuki felt so empty without him inside of her, she craved the friction, craved a release that only that idiot could give her.

Licking his fingers, he stood up for a moment, letting her juices linger on his tongue for a moment as he dragged the tripod closer to the bed, not swallowing her delicious arousal fluids until the camera clicked in place. The young man loved the clean, yet dirtily feminine taste of her cunt in his mouth. The way she tasted was almost addictive to him. As he watched her body laying there on his bed through the viewfinder, a moment of almost clarity came to his mind.

Josh was in love with that dirty girl. Miyuki was his clarity, she was a good part of his stability and she was unbelievably gorgeous. Something about her radiated pure perfection to him, even as he stood there with a rock-hard cock ready to plow the young woman into the next century, there was still love outweighing the lust.

But the lust. The lust was there as well, and he was ready to completely ravage her tiny frame as his grin returned.

The young man lunged himself back onto the bed, peppering Miyuki’s face with kisses as she straightened one of her legs out, allowing him to roll right back between her legs while his kisses attacked her neck.

Her giggles echoed in Josh’s ears beautifully, her hands moving to rest upon his shoulders as she began to speak.

“I want you to fuck me, really, really, really hard.” “You want me to fuck that pussy hard, pornstar?” “Mmph, yes, please?” “You don’t hafta beg... gonna give it to you.”

A purr came from her pink lips, curling into a smile as Josh held himself up over her, grabbing his condom-covered cock and slowly raking it up and down her lips for a moment before he started to slowly slip it in... right before grunting, letting go of his cock and grabbing her wrist, pinning it to the bed and pushing his cock deeper inside of the velvet confines. His thighs clapped against her skin loudly. The couple groaned in unison, Miyuki’s head arching back, his head hanging down to watch his cock disappear inside of her.

“Fuck... so fucking tight...” Josh began to thrust hard against her body, each movement making her perky breasts bounce on her chest vigorously. His eyes landed on her face as it contorted in pleasure, her nails starting to scratch at his shoulder, he lamented leaving one of her hands free.

The pain mixed with the pleasure, a boundary the two of them crossed time and time again. Josh secretly liked it when those manicured nails dug into his flesh, marked him up and let their friends know who his dumbass belonged to.

Those tough, calloused hands roamed over Miyuki’s body, releasing her wrist to let his hands absorb every inch of her body. A goddess, she was a goddess to him as he pushed his cock in and out of her. His eyes scanned over her bouncing breasts before he grabbed them rolling her nipples between his fingers eagerly as he breathlessly panted above her.

Miyuki’s cunt felt like it was on fire, Josh had brought her close to her brink and pulled away earlier which left her nothing more than a filthy slut in need of a big cock to cum on. The tight, almost vice-like walls held onto his cock for dear life, prompting low, guttural groans from Josh’s throat with each powerful, bed-shaking thrust.

“Baby I’m close...” Miyuki purred out, those hands moving to Josh’s biceps where the nails began to dig and scratch harder. “Please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!”

And Josh had no intention of stopping. His own peak wasn’t as close as hers, but he knew her, knew her body, and knew he was gonna make her quake a few times before he was done with her. That was the kind of sex life they had, Miyuki was a fountain of cumming ecstasy and Josh had enough stamina to handle it. A match made in heaven

The bed began to rock against the wall, Josh’s hands moving to stroke her hair as his arms lay on the bed, Miyuki’s hands promptly went for his back as his head buried in her neck, as she clawed at the sun-kissed flesh he started biting at her neck and moaning into it, knowing her to set her off.

Flesh-on-flesh hit the camera’s mic furiously as her moans got louder, higher, until they stopped, replaced with gasps and whimpers.

Josh’s thrusts kept their relentless pace as Miyuki’s pussy began to convulse, muscles in her uterus and abdomen having tensed up and finally releasing, the walls of her vice throbbing against his cock, his groans growing louder. The flesh sounds became much more wet, almost like someone slapping a pond with their palm.

“Fuck... fucking cum... little pornstar...” Josh mused at her, his head still in the crook of her neck, tongue flicking over the hickey his bites and suckles had left her with. Tomorrow everyone would know he rocked her pussy properly, from the marks and the limp he was determine to put in her step.

Once the harsh throbbing of her nether-region slowed down, Josh sat up on his knees, his hands gently dragging down her body as his thrusts stopped, his cock pulling out.

“Bend it over,” he demanded with a grunt, grabbing her ankles and tossing them to the side. Miyuki giggled hard, obeying his command and rolling onto her stomach. Carefully pushing herself up and onto her already wobbly knees. Josh grabbed onto her hips, pulling her into place as she grabbed one of his pillows, and began to hold onto it underneath of her lithe form.

As he looked down at his rubber-coated cock inches away from her slippery entrance, a shiver ran down his body, instinctively his right hand raised, and swatted at her perky rear end.

“Who’s ass is this?” “It’s yours, baby...” “Who’s? Didn’t hear that,” he said with another slap. “Ah! Baby that’s your ass! That’s your pussy!” “All mine?” “All yours!”

With a sharp grunt Josh pushed himself back into her cavern, Miyuki moaning lowly against the bed, keeping her ass perked up for him, making sure he had a great angle to fuck her in.

Soon, his thrusts began to pick up once more, back at the same pace, filling the room with the sounds of his skin banging against hers, and her sweet, desperate moan.

Josh tossed his head back, groaning loudly. It felt so much better all of a sudden, in an instant her walls felt warmer, felt tighter. Perhaps a normal boy would have known what it meant, but Josh damn sure didn’t and kept going. His nails dug into her hips each time he slung her backwards, impaling her on his cock as he thrusted forward into her. A passionate rhythm that was bringing him closer and closer to his own orgasm faster than usual.

And apparently, Miyuki felt the same. Her hands moved, one planting into the bed, the either grasping onto his hand as it dug into her hip, her nails clawing at it in desperation. The camera caught her face as it was contorting in delight, her mouth agape and her moans high.

“Fuck... fuck... fuck...” Josh cried out, keeping his head tossed back and his eyes lidded tightly. Her tiny little cunt was milking the life out of him, it was driving him insane in the best of ways. His jaw hung open, gasping and grunting right along with his girlfriend as he drilled his cock in and out of her.

“Cum for me, Josh! I want you to fucking cum...” she pleaded, still digging her manicure into his hand for dear life. His cock pistoned in and out of her hole, the angle was purely divine, every single sweet spot was being hit, his balls slapping hard, furiously against her clit, a punishment her button was more than willing to take.

It wasn’t until Miyuki hit her second peak, the muscles contracting, releasing and sending her walls vibrating against his cock until he finally found his. As the young woman squealed and held herself up, Josh gave a few more powerful thrusts, shaking the young woman to her core as his cock began to twitch and throb.

Usually, Josh’s thick cum would fill up the condom, it would be discarded and everything would be okay... but at some point, the condom ripped, leaving the head of his cock and a few more inches exposed, and sending his cum shooting right against her cervix, painting her walls white for the very first time.

The warmth felt abnormal to Miyuki as she removed her hand from his, it felt hot and wet inside of her, a feeling she wasn’t used to. Still panting and trying to calm down from the amazing sex she had with Josh, she wanted to ask but her mouth was at a loss for words. Instead, she laid her body down on the pillow nd tried to catch her breath.

“Oh... fuck...” Josh slowly began to pull out of her when he realized what had happened. His unprotected seed began to leak out, and once he finally withdrew his shrinking member, he finally saw the mangled remains of the condom.

“What’s wrong?” Immediately the worst ran through her mind. Warmth, perhaps she had started her cycle while he was in her? Miyuki had always been quite irregular. She had started once while sleeping in his bed, even, and had struggled to clean it up before he woke up, and that was immediately where her mind had went.

But that wasn’t it, it was just a bit worse. Josh swallowed, smirking just a bit, taking it more lightly than he should have. “Broke the condom. You’re too tight, pornstar.”

Miyuki froze for a moment. The main reason they used condoms had been pregnancy prevention, she was confident neither of them had an STD after being together for a year and a half after all. It made her a bit scared, hearing they had busted the rubber and Josh’s hard load had went right inside of her.

However, the more she thought about it, the less she cared.

“It’s fine.” “It’s fine?” “We should stop using them, anyway... I think we deserve to feel each other with nothing in between.”

Josh was a bit floored by her reaction, staring at her body bend over the pillow as he pulled the torn rubber bits off of his shaft. His heart began to beat fast, there was so much love in her words... he barely knew how to react to such a sweet gesture from someone he loved more than anything. Someone that was the sun to his moon, the stars in his sky. His eyes gazed over her, from her ebony locks to her perky behind... yeah. He was in love.

Hopping off the bed, Josh tossed the busted condom into the trash can by his desk, walking to the tripod and giving a smirk and a wave before turning the camera off. Him being passionate and romantic with the love of his life was not jerk-off material

At least... he hoped it wasn’t.

#rami malek smut #josh washington x oc #josh washington #until dawn fanfiction #until dawn fanfic #joshua washington #eternally yours by ramimami

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geometragic · 5 years

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Notes on Gakuen Basara (Katsuie-only version)

(( Warning: Extremely long post beneath the read-more ! ))

Episode 5

Last week, Sakon and Katsuie skipped a grade to become Year 1 students at Basara Academy. Katsuie is rumored to be a reformed delinquent.

Yukimura introduces himself to Katsuie, but Katsuie asks him, “What assistance could you give to someone who is already no better than a ghost?” Katsuie wants to be left alone by other people.

Katsuie initially dismisses the Mr. Basara Hottest of Men Contest. Sakon suddenly shows up and declares that he wants to enter so that he can make his perfect high school debut, and it turns out that Ieyasu already entered Katsuie so that he could strengthen his bonds with the students. Katsuie tries to argue that he doesn’t deserve to be in the contest, but Ieyasu tells him he does. Sakon glares at Ieyasu.

Mitsunari brings Sakon to Hideyoshi and Hanbei’s underground hideout. Hideyoshi glares at Sakon when Sakon says that he thought that Hideyoshi and Hanbei were suspended, and Sakons quickly covers his mouth and shuts up. Hanbei tells Sakon that he wants him to win because, if Katsuie loses, Ieyasu’s reputation will plummet because he forced him to enter. Sakon says that they’re putting a lot of pressure on him, but Mitsunari tells him that the arrangements have already been made.

Katsuie has many admirers among the girls.

Ieyasu asks Katsuie where the fire in his heart has gone. Ieyasu mentions how Katsuie once challenged Headmaster Nobunaga, which gives Katsuie traumatic flashbacks of that day and makes him faint on his desk. Ieyasu requests for Katsuie to be put on the baseball team. Kojuro protests, but Masamune allows Katsuie to join the baseball team. Masamune puts Katsuie through intensive training so that he can surpass his own limits and break out of his shell.

On a rainy day at a warehouse, Katsuie told Nobunaga that today was the day he would die (and Katsuie would defeat him) so that Katsuie could have everything. Nobunaga just made him explode. Oichi watched everything silently, then left with Nobunaga in Nobunaga’s fancy car with professional drivers. Katsuie was left face-down in the rain.

At first, Katsuie sucks at catching balls, but eventually he catches one. Suddenly, a bunch of fangirls come out of nowhere and yell that Katsuie did amazing, and that his melancholic eyes are so dreamy. However, Oichi then tells him to his face that she hates him and despises him. Katsuie then loses all confidence of ever moving on from that day, and runs off screaming. However, it turns out that she wasn’t talking to Katsuie, and she was just saying that she hates whoever defaced Nagamasa’s poster.

Katsuie tries to drop out of the Mr. Basara Hottest of Men Contest because he’s tired to being publicly humiliated. He then declares that he will become a deep-sea fish and go rot at the bottom of the ocean. When Ieyasu protests, Katsuie yells at them to leave him alone. Sakon then appears and says that he can’t do that because he’s been ordered to take down Katsuie. Masamune coaxes Katsuie into accepting Sakon’s challenge. Katsuie swipes Sakon’s dice and asks him what kind of challenge he has in mind.

Katsuie and Sakon challenge each other in a “look that way now” sudden death match. They end up being evenly matched in what becomes a heated match. Sakon can’t read Katsuie’s eyes because they’re like darkness itself. Katsuie feels that Sakon has lit a fire in his heart, and Sakon feels that the challenge isn’t about Mitsunari or Hideyoshi anymore, but the gamble of a lifetime. Katsuie wins. At first claims that he doesn’t have the right to rejoice openly, but when he spots a smiling Oichi in the crowd, he smiles. Sakon declares that victory is all in the roll of the dice, and that he won’t lose to Katsuie next time. Katsuie says that he’ll remember that, and shakes Sakon’s outstretched hand.

Episode 7

Katsuie is the “ghost-in-chief” in charge of the haunted house. However, he used the whole budget on a cheap trick that makes a rokurokubi appear to stretch itself out of a well and wiggle. Ieyasu (”Tokugawa-shi”) compliments it, though. Ieyasu then helps him turn it into a reverse haunted house: whoever can truly strike fear into Katsuie’s heart is the winner.

Later, Mitsunari bursts out of the door to the haunted house, complaining about how Katsuie (”Shibata”) won’t let him put a sea creature (a hood) in there. Katsuie gives the hood a rating of -5 points because of its terrible design and halfhearted stitching. Also, Ieyasu brought Kingo to be used as the fear meter. Katsuie proudly proclaims himself to be the law of the haunted house. Mitsunari says that this is just one of Ieyasu’s bids for popularity and that he wasted his time coming to the haunted house.

Kojuro wears horns and a sheet on top, but Katsuie is dissatisfied with it and only awards it 2 points. Masamune wears knight armor and points six swords at Kingo, but because he’s inspiring the wrong type of fear, he only gets 3 points. Yukimura writes characters on himself and presents himself as Hoichi the Earless, but because he’s too energetic, Katsuie gives him a terror factor of zero. Sakon wraps himself in toilet paper and pretends to be a mummy, but Katsuie throws a bucket of water over him, calls it a childish prank, and gives him only two points. Sakon protests, saying that he didn’t have to come. Keiji dresses himself and Yumekichi up as members of K.I.S.S. (?), but Katsuie criticizes it for being just a stage costume.

Dr. Akechi comes in with an anatomical model and a skeleton. Katsuie feels like using those against the rules, but since Dr. Akechi came in with a creeping terror and caused Kingo (”Kobayakwa-shi”) to faint after giving his loudest scream of the day, Katsuie seems to consider letting him win. However, Dr. Akechi forfeits and says that he still has long to go, before pulling out a green notebook, Katsuie’s “Ghost King Diary” (“Kaioh Nikki”). Katsuie looks terrified and asks him where he got it.

Inside the “Ghost King Diary”, Katsuie says that he sees through Nobunaga. He also hates his powerlessness and Nobunaga, and longs to one day become the “Ghost King” again and defeat Nobunaga. He would gladly offer up his life to the devil himself to do so. Other entries from the “Ghost King Diary”: “X/X Lord Nobunaga was overwhelming as usual today. But one day, I will surpass him! Yes, I shall appear as the giant deidarabocchi titan...”, “YY/XX I am all alone in this world. But I am not content! My goal is to strike down the high king, and as the new Ghost King, to sit on the throne of ASB President...”, “ZZ/YY If I gain independence from Lord Nobunaga and defeat Azai-shi in our tests, would it sadden Lady Oichi? No, I am the one who truly deserves Lady Oichi!” Katsuie cries out for Dr. Akechi to stop, but he doesn’t. The next entry that Dr. Akechi reads out loud: “Oichi-sama...she was weeping again today. Who caused these tears? My beautiful Oichi-sama! I will never forgive them!” More entries from the “Ghost King Diary”, with Oichi as the subject: “AA/AA *sparkling crying kaomoji* Oichi-sama. Oh, Oichi-sama. Oichi-sama.”, “Nobunaga-sama’s reprimand has brought tears to her eyes. They are beautiful...nevertheless, I must make him pay, even if he is Nobunaga-sama. But she is so beautiful...” Katsuie turns white and gives up on life, and believes that he was foolish for keeping a diary.

The entries in Katsuie’s diary badly scare Keiji, Sasuke, Yukimura, Kojuro, Masamune, (and maybe Sakon? He isn’t shown at first but then he shows up a couple shots later...). Dr. Akechi concludes by implying that Katsuie is the scariest one of them all, and Ieyasu gives Katsuie the grand prize (free tickets for all displays in the school).

Everyone takes Katsuie’s tickets and has fun going to the displays. In the cat-themed maid cafe, Katsuie sits at a separate table and has Matsu’s Russian roulette onigiri with everyone else, but unfortunately, he eats the one that’s full of wasabi.

At the bonfire dance after Sports Day, Sakon and Katsuie dance together happily. Nagamasa and Oichi also dance together. Nagamasa has his usual stony expression, while Oichi smiles.

Episode 9

Katsuie is there when Ieyasu announces the choir concert.

The last time the school song was played, it was at the first day of school for the first-years. However, it was abolished because it’s cursed. Whenever anyone sings it, terrible things happen, according to Dr. Akechi. Once Dr. Akechi leaves, Katsuie says that he’d love to hear the cursed song, causing Sasuke to protest.

Katsuie holds a Basara Academy flag in the background while Ieyasu sings his version of a new school song. Mitsunari interrupts and yells at Ieyasu to stop, though.

Katsuie later turns to try to leave, but Sakon stops him and says that he hasn’t heard his song yet. Katsuie tries to protest, but he ends up playing a crappy song on a recorder, which is “the sound of his current self.” Even if he never ends up in the spotlight, he’ll never forgive Nobunaga for what he’s done and wants to take Nobunaga down with him. The bell gets rung again, and Sakon looks sorry that he asked to hear Katsuie’s song. Ieyasu tells Katsuie that he did a good job by performing in front of all of them and giving a brilliant effort.

When Motochika kicks Motonari’s big CD player, it ends up loudly playing the cursed school song, which overpowers everyone and sends them to the ground. Someone pulls out the plug to the CD player, but Nobunaga keeps singing it over the intercom. After Dr. Akechi tells them that it’ll put an end to the school, everyone runs to the headmaster’s office, but he’s not there. They run to the roof and spot him on the playing field. He speaks the final words of the song (”so long”), but nothing happens. It turns out that everyone was tricked by Dr. Akechi. Everyone glares at him, annoyed, before beating him up.

The Oda army took everything from Itsuki’s peasant village / the Ikko-Ikki. They set fire to the villages, and killed children and the elderly in addition to the fugitive monks. (Siege of Nagashima and Ishiyama Hongan-ji?)

Episode 10

Mitsunari explains to Sakon that tomorrow is the Battle of Sekigahara, an annual event where the school is divided into East and West in a battle for supremacy. This year, Mitsunari will lead the Western army and Ieyasu will lead the Eastern army. Sakon deducts that the Battle of Sekigahara is a dry run for the elections, and if Mitsunari won, it’d give him a major boost. Mitsunari orders Sakon to recruit Motochika and as many champions as he can to join the Western army. Sakon says that Mitsunari can count on him.

Motochika tells Sakon no because he has more important things to deal with right now. Sakon tells him not to be like that since they have a plan that’ll make the Western army sure to win. Meanwhile, inside the school building and on one of the upper floors, Katsuie spots Sakon and Motochika through a window. Sakon tells Motochika that he did a number on the carburetor. Motochika tells him “bite me”, and Sakon mentions that he has a buddy who runs a bike shop. Sakon offers to play a game of dice with Motochika. If Motochika wins, Sakon will ask him to fix Motochika’s bike for free, but if Sakon wins, Motochika will join the Western army. Meanwhile, Katsuie has gone outside, and has been spying on Sakon and Motochika. Motochika agrees to the game, but says that he doesn’t want any tricks. Sakon appears to put the dice in the face-down cup, but from behind Katsuie can see that he’s holding an extra set behind his back. Motochika bets on odds, and Sakon lifts up the cup to reveal an even snake eyes.

Katsuie reports back to Ieyasu. Ieyasu tells him that he’s going to rely on the power of bonds and won’t force anyone to join him. Some nerdy, weak-looking background character with glasses shows up, and Ieyasu walks away and asks if he wants to join. Katsuie decides that he has to handle things himself. Katsuie thinks about how he never would’ve fit in at school if Ieyasu hadn’t helped him, and he wants to repay him for his kindness.

Katsuie approaches Keiji, but he already told Sakon that he’d join the Western army. The same happens with Nagamasa, Oichi, Toshiie, and Matsu. He tries to recruit Kanbei, but Sakon, who’s sitting in a nearby tree, interrupts them and asks Kanbei if he doesn’t want to think it over first. Sakon jumps out of the tree and tells Kanbei to forget Katsuie and join the Western army. Sakon then whispers to Kanbei that, if they win, Gyobu will tell Kanbei where to find the key. Kanbei joins the Western army.

Katsuie goes to the School Newspaper club’s room to try to persuade Kotaro to join, but he walks in on Sakon and Kotaro shaking hands on Kotaro’s deal to join the Western army.

Sakon walks through the halls, already seeing the Western army winning, but Motochika stops him. Sakon says that he can’t have a rematch. Katsuie steps out from behind Motochika, apparently having told him everything that he saw.

Katsuie is there when Kasuga tells Ieyasu that Tadakatsu has gone missing. Motochika says that he last saw Tadakatsu with Gyobu.

It turns out that Gyobu told Tadakatsu that Ieyasu had been kidnapped, tied him up, and locked him in the basement. He then sprayed sleeping powder on Tadakatsu, which is supposed to knock him out until tomorrow night. Gyobu tells this to Mitsunari and Sakon, and Mitsunari praises him. They all chuckle evilly, but then Katsuie, Kasuga, Ieyasu, and Motochika barge in. Ieyasu asks Mitsunari where Tadakatsu is. Mitsunari tells them all to get out, but then Katsuie says that they know that the leaders of the Western army kidnapped him. Sakon plays dumb and tells Katsuie not to make bizarre accusations just because he lost the scouting wars. Ieyasu yells for Tadakatsu, waking him up. Tadakatsu frees himself from his chains and crashes through the roof and into Mitsunari’s classroom. Ieyasu declares that this is the strength of their bond. Mitsunari still declares that he will destroy Ieyasu tomorrow.

The Sekigahara Dodgeball Tournament takes place. Mitsunari (flying into the air with Gyobu) and Ieyasu (flying into the air with Tadakatsu) focus on trying to get each other out, leaving the rest of the students on the ground doing nothing.

Episode 11

Nobunaga gives a surprise evacuation drill. Anyone who can’t leave in time will get expelled. Chaos erupts as students run out and Nobunaga’s hidden, life-threatening traps are triggered.

Katsuie slowly walks towards the exit, bemoaning how he never had any right to be a student at this school to begin with, but a crowd of fleeing students mows him down. He says, “And thus...I descend...to Hell...” He somehow reunites later with a group of students that includes Motonari, Mitsunari, Sakon, Motochika, Kojuro, and Sasuke, though. Yukimura and Masamune then get stomped into the room.

Tadakatsu can’t break through the metal doors, and Katsuie bemoans how they’ll all be expelled now.

Episode 12

Katsuie and Masamune help out Ieyasu on election day. Sakon and Katsuie sit next to each other at the 836th Student Elections. Magoichi holds a debate between Ieyasu and Mitsunari.

Katsuie, along with the other students, runs to fight Xavi and his flying ship.

#(( I finally finished it... XD ))#█₪➤ Out of Reflection ( ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳ )#█₪➤ Reference #{ Reference: Canon Material }#{ Reference: Gakuen Basara }#▒₪➤ ≼ Gakuen Basara ≽ ( ʰⁱᵍʰ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ )

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gooseghoul · 6 years

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@casualcollectionpost2 I tried to save your ask to drafts but ended up deleting it instead lol. sorry this took so long to get out, hopefully it was worth it. I didn’t know too much about Theo so I’m hoping it worked out. put 3 characters in my inbox and I’ll tell you who I’d slow burn/fake date/enemies to lovers with

slow burn: Theo I’m on the edge of Theo’s circle. I spend time with Pansy and Daphne but even more than that I’m around the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. I’m just skirting the boundary of house loyalty. I befriend no gryffindors, leave distance between them and I, but still Theo finds reason to complain.

Our year is small. We’ve no room for infighting. Have little choice but to stick together despite any differences our families have. Theo is a pure blood and proud. As vicious in his thinking as Malfoy but not insistent enough to voice it.

In third year, after Malfoy annoyed that damn hippogriff and won’t. stop. talking about it, Theo finds me at a table in the library.

“I can’t stand him right now,” he says as he pulls out a chair. potions is his best subject, charms mine, and together we find refuge in the silence of the library. the only sound the turn of a page, the scratching of quills on parchment.

he has an obsession with time. he hates how i procrastinate, forces me to sit in the library at my own table, glaring at me across tables while i ignore my essay to count the bricks in the wall.

“you’re being an idiot,” he hisses at me the day before our charms essay is due.

“I’m only hurting myself,” I say. my essay is half finished. i’ve taken two hours to write half a paragraph.

he gets taller over summer but stays just as thin. his hair gets longer too. light brown, haloes gold in the torchlight, a slight wave twisting by his ears. his smile is both sweet and grating.

in the library, it’s not just charms and potions we study. now he pores over latin textbooks, looks at conjugation tables, memorises declensions. he traces the grammar on the roof of his mouth. he’s there longer than i am most nights. but his magic is brighter for it. more vivid and powerful and he finally understands what it is we’re begging for when say a spell.

he walks that thin line between good and evil. it is the same line my family and i have learnt to walk. both pure blood. both proud. both solitary. our friendship, if we can call it that, doesn’t extend far beyond the library.

“i wish we had more time,” he says at the end of our sixth year. he doesn’t mourn dumbledore but his voice his thick. we all lost something that night, no matter what side we fell on. draco’s absence from the common room is palpable.

when war reaches us at hogwarts he runs. i stay and fight against voldemort, but not with potter. i don’t blame Theo. he could have done well under either victor. he was a child afraid of the choice of his actions. inaction isn’t always a choice — not when that inaction is to run and hide and pray.

we go to the same university. an ancient institution still tied with its muggle counterpart. peace, he says, still walking that line between love and hate. fear and acceptance.

he abandons potions for spell crafting. I study the history of our hatred. look for signs of the wizarding in ancient authors. we overlap in a need for language. in the library we learn greek the way the ancient athenians spoke it. their magic was in prayer and ritual. nearly all curses, begging the gods through words scratched in lead, folded over and pierced. there is no proof of the follow through, no result recorded in history, but the ancients believed and isn’t magic itself founded in intent?

the unspeakables scout him while he’s halfway through his postgrad. he doesn’t tell me what it is they want from him. not over coffee or drinks at the union, and certainly not in whispered conversations between the bookshelves. he’s taken to wearing jewellery: a chain round his neck which my eyes cant seem to hold.

his hair is near gold. his words well practiced. he wants me to know. i think i already do. think of how much we could do, how much we could recover had we simply had more time. it’s immoral. impossible. but we live in the after, always wanting what we left behind. the silence of loss reverberates around us all. it is there in everything we do.

back at his flat, he slips the chain round my neck and spins magic from his fingertips. i learn the taste of latin as it spills from his tongue.

fate date: Blaise

by our fifth year, blaise had worked his way through almost everyone slytherin house deemed acceptable. mostly he stuck to ravenclaws, or slytherins in the years above. no gryffindors, no one in our immediate circle. those were the only rules.

i could see why people fell for him. he was charming, handsome, and indiscriminate in who he fell into bed with (unless, of course, you were anything less than a pureblood). he was annoyingly likeable as well despite the arrogance that lay behind his charm.

“you know what would be hilarious,” pansy said one night in the common room. we were in the common room. pansy, blaise, theo and I. everyone else had long since gone to bed but we’d all gotten distracted working on our potions essay.

“what?” blaise said.

“you and M. no, blaise, think about it. you’re both absolutely perfect and it doesn’t have to be real. no one would expect it.”

I cast a look at blaise. “I thought I was a blood traitor, Pansy. as much as Blaise likes to forget, I don’t think he could look past it long enough.”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed.

“I said it doesn’t have to be real. That’s part of the fun. We’d all be in on the joke, and everyone else would be surprised that Blaise settled for you of all people.”

“I’d look past it. You can’t help your parents mistakes. You do like to go on about how we’re not our parents.”

“oh, you’d look past it would you? how noble of you zabini. I’m utterly charmed.”

“shh, M,” Pansy said.

“well if you’re not up for it,” Blaise continued.

“I didn’t say I’m not up for it. I’m just don’t think you’d actually be willing to touch me considering my family.”

“I said I would didn’t I?”

“fine.”

“what?”

“I said fine. we’re doing this, and I am going to prove you wrong. you’re just as prejudiced as the rest of us.”

Theo, who’d been sitting in silence this whole time turned to pansy and said. “what have you done?”

“I’ve created a monster,” she replied. her eyes glinted with the firelight. “and it’s beautiful.”

most of our dates consisted of me baiting blaise and he hissing that i ought to try harder. pansy didn’t let go of her pet project, but she let it filter through our year naturally that blaise zabini was dating a girl from a family of blood traitors. a family, though pureblood and ancient, that was entirely poor.

we sat in stone cold silence at a table in the Three Broomsticks. Pansy was somewhere behind me, talking loudly at how cute we were. look, we didn’t even need to speak to show how in love we were.

Blaise was my friend, first. but in this game we had lost something of one another. our friendship became stilted. our touches, once casual, were now stiff. people were now expecting us to show affection. so what little affection was shown was no longer natural but rehearsed. we were acting and it was the ruin of us.

we stopped talking outside of our dates. were sure to be seen with each other in the corridors. sat beside each other in classes but made certain to make time for our friends. we included them in everything we did.

i missed what we had. the friendship we both knew was based on inequality and a low lying disregard for the other’s beliefs. it was a friendship formed to keep the peace in our year. slytherins, despite all our apparent faults, stuck together. prejudices be damned.

but now things were different. blaise’s eyes didn’t linger like they had. i couldn’t even pass him notes from fear of our fingers touching.

because how could he like me? how could he when the pretence was disgusting enough. we were too different, our politics misaligned, my family’s name worth too little and his too much. it was easy to overlook before, when things didn’t matter so much. but how could we continue on as we had before when everything was suddenly significant? he had no reason to like me, no reason to look at me and —

i did not love him. i did not. i simply missed the casual touch of his hand on my arm to get my attention. i missed his easy smile. missed the assessing warmth of his eyes.

in the common room one night, after everyone else has gone to bed he comes over and sits next to me.

“I think we should stop,” he says. “go back to how things were before.”

I nod my agreement. our friendship is tainted, we both know that. we are two stubborn people, both arrogant in our own ways.

things are slow at first. the memory of how ugly things had been between us too fresh to be anything other than awkward. but he tucks my hair behind my ear one day. smiles.

enemies to lovers: Pansy

I made the mistake of wearing a jumper in gryffindor red on the train ride. It was enough for Pansy to hate me once she’d learnt my name; I was a blood traitor, a bastard, an enemy to the house. i was lucky in a sense that she fell in with draco. her hatred of hermione was the natural counterpart to his hatred of potter.

but still, I’d come back to my dormitory some evenings to find my possessions thrown all over. my shoes missing, my hairbrush in the toilet cistern, my diary with pages ripped out. so i retaliated. spread rumours to the hufflepuffs, who’d tell the ravenclaws who’d tell the gryffindors. spent time in the library brushing up on potions to at least be slightly higher up in snape’s good graces. not that snape would do anything against pansy. her family were death eaters and snape’s alliance was no secret in the school.

people think slytherin means malice and hatred, but it is far more than that. it is small cunning. the type that can’t easily be seen. it is power through any means. to be slytherin is not to be evil. it is to break people down into pieces. to watch your enemies flinch when you near. it is to meet their expectations of retaliation with a slighting smile. your indifference to them is vital. that is cunning. that is power.

i went out of my way to be a good slytherin. won our head of house’s favour in the act of evenings spent studying potions books. my victory over pansy was silent.

hate is a strong word. eventually, it winds down to this: in our fifth year we are both made prefects. snape, the evil bastard, insists we patrol together. something about pansy and i balancing each other out. she’s not pretty, not really. her mouth is a permanent frown, her nose unfortunate, eyes slightly bugged. but she is, surprisingly, adept. she’s quick to anger, finds enjoyment in berating the younger gryffindors. but she’d lay down her pride for her house. she’d hex anyone who injured her friends.

i suppose she didn’t think i was awful either. she stopped bringing up my name to spite me. said that maybe i was more worthy than my parents. i think, in her eyes, that was a compliment. i was something other than my blood traitor, muggle indifferent parents. i was a pure blood. untainted. it was my parents who were wrong, not me, i was only suffering because of them.

i’d do good under voldemort, she said. though she didn’t say his name.

i ignored her. ignored the pull of her words. she look for draco when we returned to the common room after patrol. she’d hang off his every word.

potter comes to the feast with a bloodied nose. he’s always one to make a scene. can’t ever be normal. pansy laughs at something draco says, smiles at blaise’s joke. for once, though i am two seats away, i laugh too.

we sit next to each other in defence. for the first time since coming here, we only have kind words to say about our professor. snape is teaching defence at last. our pride is biting, shared between pansy, all the other slytherins and i. he has wanted this above all else and his patience has paid off.

she’s not ugly, exactly. her mouth is full and downturned. her nose small and upturned. her eyes are wide. she’s like a portrait of innocence, all of her features coming together to create a powerful image of a girl who is anything but ugly. it’s a strange sort of pretty. an old, unconventional kind.

she doesn’t smile when she sees me. but she tilts her head. her eyebrows draw together. i undo her hatred, and she my indifference.

“but he’s there! potter’s there! someone grab him!”

I understand her words. her fear. I want to feel their bite against my throat. part of me wants my father to have the mark on his skin just so i can understand her. her words were toxic. tantalising.

i stay behind. fight against her father. defy any want the dark lord had. i am not for potter. not for that blinding black and white view of the world, but i am not for him either. i want that freedom of choice; that violent in between. i knew not of snape’s betrayal. but i think, now, he would have been proud.

retribution comes for pansy after voldemort’s defeat. she was a young girl. a child. not to be blamed but forever tarnished by her words against potter.

it is not my place to forgive her. it wasn’t me she wronged. but i have learnt as we all have the weight guilt on one’s conscience. potter will never care for her. never see a need to talk to the girl who so openly wanted his death. she was scared. a child marked by her father’s choice.

pansy has changed since i saw her last. she drinks coffee that’s mostly milk and sugar and too much syrup. her lips are soft. mouth tastes like bitter coffee and cinnamon.

in the future, she’ll stand opposite me as she does now. she’ll have learnt from her past. learnt the power of words and how ugly they can make us seem. she’ll hold my hand in hers and take my name.

#the second one (with blaise) is v badly written #i think i have an issue with writing fake dating bc my lupin fake date trope was bad too #i fake dated someone in school and it ruined our friendship so that might be why? idk #i swear i can write #the pansy one is my favourite tbh #sorry for any mistakes these are in no way beta'd #mad d back at it again with the self insert fanfic #fic #og #thanks for the ask!#the bit with i did not love him reminds me of the room #i did not hit her i did not hit her i did not #aske meme #ask

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ashes-0f-phoenix · 6 years

Text

Tumblr is still my diary

What's up, I want to overshare, so here I go.

So I was at camp. At camps we always do these "courage tests": send the kids out on "missions" at night in the woods, meadows, streets, whatever, and scare the crap out of them. Up until last year, I was one of those kids, and it's scary af, and a fun adrenalin rush, I love doing that stuff. The people who are doing the scares often dress up in dark outfits, fake blood, demon-possessed girls, or just scary fictional characters. There is this one guy that always dresses up as J and oh boy do I have a whole essay full of shouting about him too, but that's not what this one is about. So this year I was among these people, too.

According to the storyline, the evil wizard Torun Sadul took over time and kindnapped some Big Name witches, and the mission for the kids was to find them and free them. I teamed up with one of the guys, Geoff (twenty-something, fellow Hufflepuff). We got dressed in all black, I got fake blood on my hands and face, it was all cool. We went out to the meadow to find Petra, the witch we were supposed to be guarding, around eleven pm, and hid behind her in the tall grass. There followed much arguing about constellations and Budapest and I saw the Milky Way and Petra complained way more than us although I think she had it easier, she wasn't lying face down on the ground, but whatevs. I'm just saying we were having much fun. :P So we were waiting for the kids to arrive so Geoff and I could do a jupmscare, but they took way too long, and I felt insects all over me so I rolled around in the grass a bit, because wtf Phoenix, yeah, sure, be stupid. It hurt surprisingly lot.

The kids arrive, rescue Petra, group hug, start walking away all happy that they are now safe, but then, as the assholes we are, we jump up and run towards them screaming. It was beautiful. You should have heared how they screamed back. T'was lovely. I finally got to scream under the stars, 10/10 would recommend. We ran off into the woods, I lost my phone, had to go back to find it in the dark, we got back at around one am, blindly tried to scrub the fake blood off of my face without much success, quick shower, bed, sleep.

Next morning I attempted to get the blood off of me again because I obviously couldn't go among the kids like that, and had way more success that time. Except! The wretched thing got into all the tiny faults in my skin, so like, all the tiniest scars I ever had/have were there in goddamned bright neon red. Just when I thought the new ones have pretty much disappeared, too. Splendid. The ones from Greece have already healed on my left arm, those were pretty tiny, you can only see them if you look closely, and people rarely ever stare closely at me so I'm all good. Buuut I managed to fuck up my right arm not long ago because something happened and yeah, great, that's splendid too, and that one was not so tiny. My left leg is still very fucked up, also great. I'm an idiot. Then I noticed that there are red lines on my right leg, too, which was weird, I never did anything to that one before, ever. And I 100% did not put blood on my legs. And my fingers were cut up, too.

And then I finally fucking realized that those were not hundreds of insects biting me, it was the patch of thistles I was lying in. Then rolled around in. While wearing shorts. So while the red of the fake blood came off in a couple of days, my legs are still sliced up. I'm so smart, so intelligent, so clever, seriously! Jesus.

So back to that day, I walked out, I only brought shorts and T-shirts with me because like I said I thought I was already fine scar-wise - nobody gives a shit about what happened to your legs, only the arms. :P I slent the day praying nobody questions anything. Of course they did. A Ravenclaw a year younger me, and another prefect girl my age (R). R asked the obvious question and I went "Oh those are just accidental ones", 10 points for bad phrasing, clever girl! "Why, you do non-accidental ones, too?" Tried to get out of the conversation as quickly as I could because I'm sure as heck not going to discuss that in public, but she went "Er, because, I do, well, used to anyway."

Oh. And then she just casually dumped her entire story on me right there. Sixth grade.

We all used to do it in sixth grade. Nearly half of the girls in my school did it. It was crazy. Alíz started it. She was the Sad Bad Tumblr Girl, new in class, smoked and drank at twelve, scars all over. Went on and on loudly about how she wanted to die. And murder me, too. They said she was jealous. Ridiculous - I was jealous of her, more of than anyone ever, because I wanted to be Alíz. No teacher ever cared about when she came into class still bleeding, but we all noticed. She finally got caught while about to jump off a highway bridge. Two weeks of hospitalization. Then she disappeared from our school. Next time I saw her she had painted her hair black and watched My Fair Lady at the theatre I often went to. I still wanted to be her. She got all the attention my depressed ass wanted and never got because I kept the suffering quiet. I would have killed to go through all that happened to her. Everyone knew she was suffering. She was cool. All the cool bitchy girls at school, that were also secretly sad inside, started cutting. So many people started doing it at once, that the un-cool people, like my friends, started really looking down on it, saying it was all for attention, spoke about it in disgust. So I never told them I was doing it too. Never did it deep enough to leave obvious scars anyway.The boys said they would never date any girls that are so dumb. Fastforward some years and those are the exact girls they are fucking. Well, not me, but they tried. J stopped my self-destruction. He got me out of all that. Completely got me out of being depressed. How bloody ironic. Eventually everyone stopped. That was our story. Not sure what happened in other schools, if they had Alízes as well or it was something else, but everybody felt like shit in sixth grade. In seventh grade, they got a psychologist to watch our class, and I'm told other schools did it, too.

The cool girls who did it never spoke about it. Pretended that they didn't see the other was doing it, too. Years after, and they all pretended sixth grade never happened. Like Alíz was completely ok. This was the first time I heared one of them talk about it out loud at all. Or any of us, really. It was the last day of camp. R started following me around. Cried when she said goodbye even though we barely talked. Me, the socially awkward bitch, had no idea what to do with the whole situation.

It was weird. We are all weird. We bond over weird things.

Next time I'm surely checking where I'm lying down.

#that is something i should definitely consider in every area of my life tbh #but that is a whole other story #jesus #life is a mess #and i'm ready to make it into an even bigger mess #or quit #but we'll see #only time will tell #but i shall embrace being an idiot because that is what i am outstandingly talented at

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kimmysfandomblog · 6 years

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aaaa oumeno for the ship thing? i know you only enjoy their aesthetic so you can refuse it but---

Hiya Anon! It’s no big deal! Even if it is just for the aesthetic, that still means I kinda like it! I maybe should have addressed exactly what I meant? I didn’t go into it because I feel like I ranted too much on that post. You can skip if you like! I’ll just put it under a cut after I do the meme! Also, I’m surprised someone did read my shipping post ^^; a part of me is embarrassed, but another part of me is very happy someone took the time to read it all the way to the end! So thank you very much :)

Now, back to the actual ask meme, I had fun with this! I think it’s most interesting since, unlike with Toko/maru, Son/dam, and Koma/Hina, this one is impossible in canon, because death seems to be permanent in NDRV3, so canonically, this ship is sunk :( That means this Oumeno is in a sort of AU, maybe even one where they never met the rest of the class!

From here: https://kimmysfandomblog.tumblr.com/post/167497972565/send-me-a-ship-and-ill-tell-you

Who said “I love you” first: That would be Kokichi! But he’d say it in such a way that Himiko would never know whether or not he’s lying (and he fully knows he’s confusing her). Himiko would actually be very flattered someone said this to her (initiate the blushing), and I imagine him saying this at a time where she’s actually really mad at him. In other words, it’s a complete mess, and she comes to the conclusion he has to be lying. Was Kokichi being genuine when he first said “I love you?” Who knows. Maybe even Kokichi wouldn’t know.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background: I’d say Kokichi would, and he’d constantly tease her about it. I think he’d have taken a photo of her sleeping and drooling all over the table, and generally not looking her best. She’d constantly try to find ways to grab his phone and delete it, either hopping up and down as he waves it high, or trying to be sneaky and ambush him, even trying to give him a hug to get it. Kokichi’s too fast and spots her lies too easily. He’s actually really proud of that photo, and he did find her really cute in it. Besides, he wouldn’t show his phone to anyone no matter how much he boasts that he did.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror: Kokichi would, but it’d be really embarrassing. Maybe something like comparing their heights, or saying “Nishishishi~, I took all the hot water!” or being overly sweet to the point it’s not certain he meant every word. I can also imagine him, for one week, doing a “Dear Diary” with the mirror complaining about something Himiko did that day.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts: I think Himiko would. Kokichi seems to be the type that would buy something that would start off looking like a cheesy gift, but it turns into a prank, only to be revealed the gift was hidden and whatever gift there was was actually something really sweet and personal. For Himiko, I think she’d do the cheesy gifts, but it would be presented through her magic. Although, for Kokichi, it may involve him getting “accidentally” splashed by water, or she pretends to have “failed because she didn’t have enough mana” and he gets the “bad” present.

Who initiated the first kiss: Kokichi would, and it would be at such a random moment that it stuns her. Still, this would be her first kiss, and I doubt Kokichi would do something that mean for a prank (especially since Himiko is definitely the type to want to cherish her first kiss, given how much she loves those romantic dramas), so I think this would be after they had established a romantic relationship. In that case, he’d probably peck her on the lips, move back, and start to giggle at her stunned expression. Maybe she’d start to get mad and demand to ask why he’d do that all of a sudden. He’d probably say something that proclaims his love way too enthusiastically. This causes her to blush again, demanding he stop teasing her. I think, though, she’d believe he actually did kiss her because he liked her at this point. I mean, if she’d accepted dating him, she must know he genuinely likes her and isn’t the type to string someone along for a prank.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning: Kokichi, because 1) he’d be the first to wake up, definitely and 2) it’s funny how she reacts. He won’t do it that often, so every time, she’d jolt awake when she realizes he’s that close to her face. He’d pretend to cry that she wasn’t happy to wake up to him, and she’d say something like of course she wasn’t happy. Who’d be happy to wake up to him so close to their face??? Still, the romantic part of her screams in joy.

Who starts tickle fights: There’s no question that Kokichi would do this. Whether it was to wake her up, or distract her before he does something sweet or even more mischievous, he’d start tickling her and she’d be unable to get back at him immediately. However, with her magic, she can surely find ways for “accidents” to happen to him, as “karma.”

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower: Probably Kokichi again, but I’m gonna have to say he never means it and she finds it too embarrassing even if they are in a relationship. If they were to get married, then maybe? I dunno, it’s hard to see it being anything sexual though haha.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch: Both would probably! Kokichi wouldn’t be as much of a surprise, maybe. He’d possibly come and get her lunch, or drop off cookies, and something in the lunch, or in one of the cookies, is tampered with (sugar and salt switched, adding of hot sauce, etc.). He wouldn’t do this on an important day, though, nor that often. If she was nervous about a show, he’d possibly talk to her and tease her to take her mind off, and then bring her back to topic seriously talking about it with her and help her realize she’s got this. As for Himiko, she’d have to go through DICE (who have to recognize her and she’s basically an honorary member at this point) and she’d maybe drop off some of the extra baking goods she’d made with her friends. He’d gush at her bringing him something so sweetly, she’d ignore it (totally used to it by now), but he’d make sure to tell her he appreciates it. He’d try to persuade her to join DICE officially and just stay with him, but she’s happy playing magic tricks instead of pranks.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date: Absolutely Himiko. She’s still not sure Kokichi wasn’t going to prank her, and I’m going to bet her friends did not approve at all, but she gives it a try anyways because she thought she saw something she hadn’t noticed in Kokichi before. I’d even say he may have helped her release her suppressed emotions and made her feel much better about herself, and all of this, while he teased her a little, was mostly something he clearly took seriously. She’s also never been on a date before, and is clearly a romantic at heart, so she’s more than a little nervous and shy. Kokichi’s dates, however, are so unorthodox, she forgets they even are on a date. They both end up having fun (maybe too much fun since I imagine he roped her into some petty crimes).

Who kills/takes out the spiders: If they know Gonta, neither of them kill the spider, in the event that Gonta finds out about it ^^; Even then, both of them hate bugs (Himiko to the point she even passes out), so I’m pretty sure they’d basically just run out of the room that has the bug and pretend that room doesn’t exist. Maybe they’d call Gonta to help take the spider out.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk: Himiko is a sleepy drunk, so she’d just knock out. She might be coerced into telling the truth, but she’d more mumble it than anything (Imagine Kokichi taking advantage of that and using his phone to record her answering his questions about how much she loves him… I bet it’s both funny and cute). Kokichi would be the type to pretend he’s drunk rather than actually allow himself to be that unguarded to actually be drunk, and if Himiko is in the room, he’d be sure to embarrass her with praise and affection.

People on the app/who want to avoid spoilers, this last part is gonna have some spoilers! Not that detailed, per se, but spoilers! So I put it under the cut! This is basically just what my take on Oumeno is, but as a tldr, I don’t see it happening in canon at all, but in an AU? I like it!

I am adding this link in hopes I don’t disturb people who are searching for shippy oumeno stuff!

Actually, before playing the game, I thought of how their personalities would be super cute together, and even in game, it’s not like I hated it… There were a few moments that I can think of as “Oumeno” moments where Kokichi teases Himiko, and she seems to like the idea of someone liking her or complimenting her as long as it isn’t so enthusiastic, it comes off as creepy. I’d say that’s more to do with her love of romantic dramas than of any feelings she has for Kokichi.

As for Kokichi, well, I’m pretty sure even if he did like Himiko, he clearly liked Shuichi more by the time he canonically says anything to her of substance. I do think he may have been fond of her, though, even if it wasn’t romantic. Anything he’s ever said was more for her benefit (even when accusing her of murder, I think he knew neither murder could have possibly been done by her and was clearing her of suspicion), and he’d never bullied Himiko like he did with Kiibo or Miu.

It’s something of a headcanon of mine that he hates lying, but a specific type: one that is actually negatively affecting people (Kiibo’s lies prevented him from reaching his potential and getting out of the killing game faster, and Miu’s lies just made it harder to get her to do anything, and were usually pretty obnoxious and hurtful (in his opinion)). Himiko’s lie is that she thinks she doesn’t care, when actually she cares a lot. That hurts her more than it hurts others, so when he did lie, it was to try to get a reaction out of her. If that makes sense ^^ He even is the one to get her to cry finally at the end of Chapter 3. I think, maybe, one of the members of DICE may have been similar to Himiko, having shut down their personality and not letting their emotions free, but he helped them free their emotions by having them join DICE and play pranks. Just a headcanon again ^^ But back to the topic: in terms of canon relationships/”canon AUs,” I’m a little bit too committed to the Oum/ami ship to fully ship Kokichi with anyone else.

But, taken out of the killing game, and if Kokichi was not gay/you take the headcanon he was only heavily leaning towards men, I think it would be rather cute! Himiko is a master of magical tricks and illusion, and Kokichi is a prankster, so it’s not like they are that far apart in comparison. I can see him realizing her suppressed emotions hurting her, so he teases her to get a reaction out of her and eventually helps her overcome it. She’s somewhat gullible, but a bit of a spitfire, too. I think Kokichi actually likes seeing her reactions to his lies, because in the end, she distracts herself from her problems, and then once she’s calmed down, she’s much happier and more confident. So, I do like them, just out of a canon context.

And of course, they just look really good together, aesthetically :P But yeah, all-in-all, it’s a cute ship that I don’t dislike, but I don’t necessarily fully ship.

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