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musical-shit-show · 1 year

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hi, I love the way you write dewey finn so much!! may I request #18 from prompt list 2 and/or “you are terrible at this.” from prompt list 3 for him please?

close enough to touch

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: #18 (“it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyways.”) from Prompt List 2 and #36 (“you are terrible at this.”) from Prompt List 3, requested by anon

Warnings: Awkward flirting, fluff

Word Count: 2,370

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long, anon! I was really struggling with this one but I hope you like it! I’ve been meaning to write some post-School of Rock Dewey, and if people like this I wouldn’t mind doing another teacher!Reader one shot. So please let me know if this is something y’all like in the comments and reblogs! Also, check out my Masterlist, Prompt Lists, and About Me page, and submit an ask! It might take me a little bit longer with some requests but I promise to always make those my priority. I’m also working on my Beetlejuice series (to fill the void of course) so hopefully there will be more chapters of that coming soon. Thanks to everyone who’s supported my writing so far and enjoy!

“Don’t look now, but he’s staring at you again.”

“Who?”

“The music tutor.”

You decided to not look up from your coffee mug, the creamer you had just poured swirling slowly. It was the end of your second week at Horace Green, and Mrs. White had quickly taken you under her wing.

The teacher’s lounge was buzzing with activity, since the second Friday of every month meant free pastries from the local artisanal bakery. Apparently incentivizing the molders of young minds with sugar and fat never failed.

You placed an almond croissant on your plate, trying your best to stay discreet, “What’s his name again? Danny?”

Mrs. White laughed lightly, “Dewey,” she said with the smallest hint of disdain, “He’s the one I was telling you about last week. The one who impersonated a substitute last semester.”

Your jaw fell open slightly, and you decided to get another look of this guy. Turning from the spread of baked goods, your eyes wandered over to the other side of the room, where you saw the culprit averting his gaze from your direction.

He was, in a word, unkempt. His clothes were mismatched and ill-fitting; the button-down shirt hiding under his loud sweater vest was about half a size too large, and his dark jeans looked half a size too small. Most of the male teachers at Horace Green typically wore sport jackets and khakis, or at least a tie. Clearly Dewey didn’t get the memo.

His hair was also rumpled, dark brown and wavy and spurting in all different directions. You guessed he had rolled out of bed without running a brush through that mess, let alone even looked in the mirror.

You also noticed a significant amount of stubble growing on his round face, finishing off the whole scruffy vibe he had clearly committed to. He was almost…cute. His eyes were the same color as your coffee, deep brown with a touch of lightness.

“Not to state the obvious, but isn’t that a crime?” you murmured, trying to be discreet as you gossiped with your co-worker.

She answered with an eyeroll. “Of course it is,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. She took it black, two sugars. “But Rosalie—Ms. Mullins—decided to not press charges and hired him instead. Caused quite an uproar, but the students love him, so…”

You peered at him again curiously. Dewey was had just finished scribbling something in his notebook, breathing a heavy sigh as he slouched back into the plastic chair.

“I wouldn’t get involved if I were you,” Mrs. White warned, clearly noticing your interest in him, “From what I’ve heard, he’s nothing but trouble.”

You nodded. “Believe me,” you lied, “I know when to stay away.”

~oOo~

A sigh of relief left your chest the second the final bell rang at 3:15 that day. Teaching 10 and 11-year-olds how to structure essays all day really drained you, no matter how polite and well-behaved they were.

You gathered your belongings quickly and were walking briskly to your car when you heard your name being called behind you. You turned to see Dewey, and you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows. He was carrying what looked like stacks of sheet music.

One misstep and he’d be picking up papers until sundown.

“Uh, hi,” he said as he caught up to you, the cold January air making his breath visible. He attempted to extend his arm for a handshake, but retracted when the heaps of music in his one arm began to falter. “I’m uh, I’m Dewey. Or ‘Mr. Finn’ as the kids say, but you can call me Dewey.”

Looking at him more closely, you decided he was even cuter than you first thought. With Mrs. White’s warning ringing in your ear, a part of you wanted to turn the other way, tell him you were in a hurry to get home, make up some excuse to not get involved.

But it was clear he was interested in you, and you’d be lying if you weren’t at least a little intrigued. And besides, it’d be rude to not at least introduce yourself, right?

“Hi, Dewey,” you parroted, giving him another once over. “I see you already know my name.” He was already flushed from the cold, but his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Right, well, I got it from the staff directory. Just…wanted to introduce myself. I teach the kids music after school most days.”

“I know who you are,” the statement came out colder than you intended, “I did see you this morning, do you make a habit of hanging out in the teacher’s lounge?”

He gulped. “No,” he answered, “No, I just…I had a meeting with Rosalie this morning about the spring concert.”

Pure enough excuse. However, Mrs. White had also let it slip that he and Ms. Mullins apparently had a fling a few months prior, which only intrigued you more. What was so special about this guy that he could avoid a criminal trial for identity theft and date his boss in one fell swoop?

“I see,” you said coyly, trying to scrutinize him without being too obvious, “And are you and Rosalie…close?” If Dewey’s face was pink before, it had now turned to an embarrassing shade of scarlet.

“Oh, um, no,” he said, clearly flustered. “Nope. She’s a great…lady. And really cares about the kids. But…no. Not very close.” You nodded, completely unconvinced. You didn’t want to believe the gossip, but with a response like that, how could you not at least consider that it could be true?

Dewey shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his grip tightening on the sheet music. “We kissed,” he blurted, exhaling heavily, “Like, twice. She’s great but…I’m single. Very single.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his honesty. It was oddly refreshing. “Should I be taking that as some kind of hint?” you flirted, smiling softly. You couldn’t care less that your nose and fingertips were growing red from the cold.

“Only if you want,” he said, a shy smile dancing on his lips. Panic overtook his features only seconds later. “I mean, shit, not to be too forward or anything—”

“You know, you are terrible at this,” you said, cutting him off. Dewey flashed an embarrassed grin, letting out another breathy laugh, “How about I just give you my number and we just go from there?”

The two of you quickly exchanged digits and walked to your respective cars separately, unknowingly sharing excited smiles that lasted all the way home.

~oOo~

A few weeks later, you found yourself sticking up flyers for the School of Rock’s annual midwinter concert after the final bell had rung. Dewey had somehow roped you into posting the brightly colored papers on every corkboard, chalkboard, and section of blank wall space in the school.

“I thought you’d be headed home by now,” you heard Mrs. White call from down the hall. You jumped slightly, the haughty timbre in her voice surprising you.

Plastering on your most innocent smile, you turned to face your colleague. “I will be soon,” your voice was dripping with saccharine sweetness, “Just hanging these flyers and then I’m home free.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “Any big weekend plans?” You shook your head, turning back to the wall where you stuck up another flyer. You hoped she would just walk past and be none the wiser.

Mrs. White approached you, skeptical. You were friends, sure, but she was old enough and smart enough to know when someone was hiding something.

And unfortunately for you, as soon as she caught a glimpse of exactly which flyers you were hanging up, it all clicked.

“I thought I made it very clear that Mr. Finn was nothing but trouble,” she said, sounding eerily like a disapproving mother. Despite your heartrate increasing rapidly, you remained calm.

An incredulous scoff left your lips as you placed your free hand on your chest, “Mrs. White,” she rolled her eyes at you using her surname, “I was simply assisting another educator in promoting a fundraiser for this school that seeks to promote the arts and enrich our students’ lives.”

“Did you rehearse that?”

“A little. But I mean it, Mr. Finn has been nothing but professional. We’ve barely even spoken outside of planning the concert.”

That was a lie, of course. The truth was, ever since you and Dewey had exchanged information, you had texted and called and even met up a few times outside of school. Of course, they couldn’t exactly be called dates—at least that’s what you told yourself.

He seemed nervous around you at first, sure, but as soon as you got to know him, that faded away and you were left with a carefree, albeit scatterbrained work buddy. And despite the occasional flirt, it was clear that he wasn’t as interested in you as you first thought.

Which only crushed you the tiniest bit.

Mrs. White glanced at the colorful flyer again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, “Well, of course I’ll be there to support our students’ artistic endeavors,” she said, a small smirk on her lips, “But don’t think I still don’t have my eye on you.”

You could tell she wasn’t being completely serious, but a small shiver of fear still wracked your spine as she walked towards the exit, the click clack of her pumps echoing on the linoleum tile.

You called goodbye sweetly, playing your role as nothing more than a helpful new teacher who was just excited about music education. Stapling up the last piece of paper onto a mostly bare bulletin board, you couldn’t help but overhear the noise of excited chatter coming from the music room down the hall.

The door was closed, but you managed to sneak a peek through the tiny window to see Dewey chatting with the bassist, who was about the same size as her as instrument. You felt a grin creeping onto your face.

Dewey’s passion for music came out the most when teaching the kids; even after watching him play a gig at the Roadhouse, you never saw his eyes light up more than when he was in that practice room.

You turned away and took a few steps toward the exit when you heard the door creak open, the chatter growing louder before muffling again. “Are you spying on me or something? You’re already getting into the concert for free, ya know.”

Dewey’s voice was more hoarse than usual, the gruffness making your stomach flip. “Not spying,” you teased, glancing over at the bulletin board, “Just doing your job for you.”

He clutched his heart dramatically, “You wound me,” he smirked, “But seriously, thanks for doing this. Hopefully we can drum up some more buzz.” You waved off his praise.

“No trouble. Consider us even since you had to suffer through listening to me babble on for way too long last night.” You two had made a habit of call each other late at night, which only confused your feelings even further. Your brain couldn’t decide if you were just co-workers, friends, or something more.

Apparently, Dewey couldn’t decide either.

“It’s okay,” he replied, running a hand through his messy waves, “I couldn’t sleep anyways.” He bared a toothy smile, wiping his palms on his dark jeans. His casual remark was innocent enough but still found a way to make your heart ache.

You decided the best course of action was to turn the attention away from yourself. “Well, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble with attendance,” you said, referencing the brightly colored flyer again, “From what I hear your kids are incredible.”

He beamed like a proud parent. “Yeah, yeah they are,” he said, “And thank you for spreading the word. Some teachers around here still aren’t too keen on me, after, well…everything.”

You felt yourself frown, your mind flashing to Mrs. White’s warnings. From what you could see, everyone had misjudged Dewey. He was kind, passionate, albeit far less put together than the other Horace Green staff, but he loved teaching and he loved those kids.

Wasn’t that enough to take a chance on?

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence, “What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I did have big plans with my couch and a shitty movie, but—”

“You and me. Tonight. Roadhouse.”

“Okay?” he laughed, taken aback by your abruptness.

“And this is a real date, Finn,” you added. “No take backs.” A look of panic flashed across his face, and for a split second you wondered if you had made a terrible miscalculation. But how could you not take matters into your own hands after his weeks of mixed signals?

Before you could open your mouth to apologize profusely for stepping way over that friendship line, Dewey grabbed your arm lightly, pulling the two of you around the corner and away from the only occupied classroom on a Friday afternoon.

And he kissed you.

Softly at first, so gently that you felt yourself melting into the cold painted cinderblock wall as he grabbed your waist. Prep schools weren’t designed to be the most romantic of places, but perhaps that was for the best.

Nevertheless, you let your eyes flutter shut as your lips molded to Dewey’s, your breath hitching in your throat. After a few seconds he pulled away, a shocked look on his face that surely mirrored yours.

“Sorry,” he muttered, a smirk creeping its way onto his mouth, “Surprised myself with that little stunt, huh?” You nodded as he peeled himself away from you. You instinctively checked your surroundings, but you were alone.

“Dewey, are you insane—”

You wanted to be angry with him for risking both of your jobs, but the fluttering in your heart was overwhelming. One thing was for certain, there was no mistaking that signal.

“I just, I couldn’t wait until tonight,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “But yes. I’ll see you tonight. No take backs.”

You smiled as he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and watched as he happily sprinted back to his students.

*****

thanks for reading! please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed!

read part 2 here!

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haljathefangirlcat · 1 year

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And now, for something completely different... a few Inkheart headcanons, specifically about Smol Feral Trash Cat-Dog With A Knife. Così, de botto, senza senso, as we say here. Some I've picked up through the years by reading other people's headcanons or fic and then developed (if you can call any of this stuff "developed", lol) by building up on ideas I liked, others date back all the way to when I read the books in middle school.

I think it's safe to say that most of the fandom knows "basta!" means "enough!" or "stop!" in Italian. Which... yeah, pretty great name for the kind of violent criminal whose victims would be screaming that kind of thing, at least in a book series for kids. But, like other people who've spent probably too much time thinking about it at some point or another, I do like to imagine a more Watsonian explanation for it being a real, if surprisingly well-fitting, name rather than a nickname he earned during his time as a fire raiser. Mine actually hinges on the fact that, back in the day, before reliable contraceptives or safe abortifacients or even just the idea that there was nothing weird or bad about being married while not having children or sex or not being married at all, couples who ended up with more kids than they could feed would sometimes name the hopefully last one of them Ultimo or Ultima, meaning "last", as a sort of... auspicious name, if for a given definition of "auspicious." I've even heard a story (which, admittedly, might be a urban legend, as I've seen it mentioned in a few places but with no source) about a couple who called their last children Ultimo, Definitivo ("definitive, conclusive, final"), and Finiamola ("let's get it over with!", or "let's stop this!"), each time hoping the new kid would also be the very last... so, yeah. Long story short, I imagine Basta as the youngest child of poor parents living in a small, crowded house, who by the time of his birth were just about ready to say, "Enough with this! If we get another after this one, we'll just carry it into the woods and leave it there, and then it'll be up to whatever animal/fairy/kindly passerby to kill it or raise it!" I also like to think he actually has an older sister named Ultima, running around somewhere in the Inkworld... even if, for both obvious reasons and more headcanon-y ones, he hasn't kept in contact with anyone from his family ever since he officially joined Capricorn.

About the "more headcanon-y" reasons: I once read a fic (I thiiink it was on Fanfiction.net? Probably not AO3) where, as a boy, Basta killed his own father, an abusive drunkard, to prove his loyalty and ruthlessness to Capricorn. Needless to say, I loved it! And went on to incorporate part of it in my vision of Basta as a character. In my own headcanons, I'm not sure if I really see Basta's father or even both of his parents as that actively hateful or violent towards him (if only because I'm not quite sure if singling out just one boy among so many children in that way would quite work, realistically speaking about an in-universe Medieval-ish fantasy world... unless some of those many children died young due to hunger, illness, or simple lack of supervision. Again, in-universe Medieval-ish fantasy world) but as I love that bit in Inkheart where Fenoglio talks about Basta's unhappy childhood, how worthless he thought he was, and how easily he clung to Capricorn, I do picture him being severely neglected and receiving very little in the way of kindness or affection both inside and outside of his family. Perhaps being either dismissed or unfairly blamed for being the runt of the litter and not big and strong enough to help more around the house, or in the fields, or in whatever failing business his father might have owned, given how he's not exactly tall and physically imposing even as an adult? Anyway, I do find the idea of him being miserable in his early life and initially clinging to Capricorn as both a magnetic, irresistible symbol of what neither him nor anyone in his family ever had and his one real hope for money, power, and generally something better, then coming to see him as this godlike figure, as well as a new, better father he'd be willing to exchange his perhaps equally distant but much less impressive (and much less interested in finding some actual use for him) old one for (even at the cost of a very cold take on "out with the old, in with the new"), incredibly fascinating.

For something less dark, more crack unless you consider the implications: building up on the fact that yes I realize we're never given anyone's exact height in the books, no I won't get over the idea of him being essentially a pint-sized menace and Capricorn's very angry, very menacing chihuahua, it amuses me (way more than it should) to think that at some point, probably when he was still one of the youngest among Capricorn's men in the Inkworld or when he and Capricorn were on their own in our world, someone definitely tried dismissing him as a threat (maybe even by making fun of him) due to his height and build... only to immediately, sorely regret it.

Still on the possibly disturbing crack side of things: he makes a big show of hitting on women, particularly the maids in Capricorn's village, and there might actually be some desire under him just liking to pose as this Big Intimidating Man showing off his power by making women in an already inferior or subservient position to him squirm in discomfort... but if any of them should ever respond positively, even just in an attempt to get protection or some sort of special treatment out of him, he wouldn't know how to handle it. Like, it would temporarily short-circuit his brain. The closest he ever got to getting a woman to acknowledge his flirting in any significant way besides pulling back from him and reaching the nearest exit as fast as possible is probably that time a girl rejected him by telling him he had bad breath and then he killed her with snakes and resolved to chew mint leaves for the rest of his life because he's such a confident person. Even Roxane probably never exchanged more than five words (mostly to the effect of "get lost!" and "fuck you!" on her side) with him.

For the last one, a bittersweet one: Basta actually liked Fulvio, the black jacket who got read into One Thousand and One Nights in exchange for Farid. A lot of Capricorn's men did, really, but I like to picture Fulvio as a boy from our world, probably coming from a poor, dysfunctional home, that Basta in particular kind of took under his wing (as much as Basta could do that for anyone...) because he saw something of himself in him. This is, ofc, based on nothing but my hazy memories of reading the Italian translation of Inkheart, where I'm 90% sure a bunch of black jackets are ready to beat Mo to a pulp as soon as they notice Fulvio has disappeared and Basta himself gets all in Mo's face and tells him he will personally make him "pay dearly for Fulvio."

#inkheart #inkheart trilogy #inkheart basta #basta (inkheart)

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dark-night-insomniac · 2 years

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We recently hit 230 followers and the end of the year is coming soon so i though i would introduce myself again and thank you all

I used to write for twice over on instagram a few years ago but lost my interest for writing when i started university.

After 1 year at university covid hit and so did my queerness. I finally accepted who i was and came out as nonbinary, and im proud to say that recently i cane out to my whole family and that my parents finally seem to be accepting me.

Its also during covid that i discovered Dreamcatcher. One of my friend on instagram named Rose showed me their comeback scream back then, i remember watching the mv but not liking the song whatsoever, i was used to girly kpop from twice and blackpink so this was out of my zone. The thing is, i always liked rock, and when i came back to Dreamcatcher during Because, i realized that they were what i had been looking for and finally appreciated their sound. Im really not sure why i didnt like their sound back then, but i think as i got older, i got back to my roots of loving rock and Dreamcatcher was just perfect- combining kpop and rock.

I was still on instagram then, but i started reading dreamcatcher fics online, and often it lead me to tmblr. I rememher thinking that there wasn’t enough dc content when it came to fanfictions, i wanted more and so i decided to start writing again to provide insomnias with more dc content.

I always loved reading the fluffy stories, it made me feel less alone and loved, while it being about people i appreciate and look up too. Thats why i like to write fluff, to hopefully bring comfort to people as much as it does for me.

There was a time i found myself cringe for writing fanfictions, but i realized, this is just like any other form of writing- we just include people we admire in our stories

On tmblr i was able to share my stories with people who enjoy kpop like i do. I met many talented friends and everyone seem to be so kind unlike instagram.

Im sorry this is so long, i know i am rambling but i wanted to show my appreciation for all of you.

I never though i would enjoy writing again but here i am, theres so something so wonderful about this, it just makes my heart happy, especially because all of you are here with me.

As for a little unnecessary intro to my life, well like i said im in university and a lil nonbinary person- well im 5’10 but ill keep saying litlle.

When im not in school, working, or writing- most of my time is dedicated to working out and cooking. I started working out when my anxiety got the best of me, and to this day it is still the best way i can cope with the stresses of life.

Although i spend most of my time working out- out of the necessary activities of life, i do give myself time everyday for skin care and hair care. I do also enjoy videos games, i use to spend 24 hours playing them, but sadly im quite too busy these days.

I also always loved drawing and painting, these days life is too busy to keep those passions of mine alive. I like acting as well as music, wether id be creating or playing an instrument.

Arts just always find its way to my heart.

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keywestlou · 2 years

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NO ONE IS SAFE

NO ONE IS SAFE - https://keywestlou.com/no-one-is-safe/No one is safe any longer. Death and injury have become too commonplace. Today, Speaker Pelosi's husband. Yesterday, blacks and school children. Tomorrow, Jews. We are a nation out of control. Trump let the vermin out of the their holes. The solution? Vote! Get rid of the Republican Party that has crossed over the line and permits and encourages these activities. If the people do not recognize the evil for what it is, the remaining alternative will be outright civil war. January 6 was close to 2 years ago. Hundreds have been arrested. Mostly the small guys, the followers. Time to go after those at the top. Time is wasting. Two groups must be sought out. The political leaders and the money bags who support what is happening. Those who foster the evil. It may already be too late. It takes forever to prosecute, convict and jail. At least 2 years. Could be 4 with appeals. In the meantime, the bad guys continue to get their way. Once the top guys are toppled, the body will fall. Tonight the Fantasy Fest parade. As many as 60,000 will line Duval. I have always wondered where they sleep. There are not enough beds between here and Marathon to hold them. Back when, I thought how much fun it would be to be on a float. The opportunity arose some 20 years ago. My good friend Howard Livingston asked me to join him on a float he had prepared. I jumped at the chance! One time was enough. Never again. A float can be work. The one I was on was. I was totally exhausted at the end of the evening. There were about 70 floats in the parade that year. We were number 64. It took 2-3 hours to make the trip. The first floats had finished before we even began. Howard had purchased 30,000 strings of beads. There were at least a dozen of us on the float. We threw 22,000 to the crowd. Howard had it organized. We kept one arm extended. He had people running to "reload" our arms with beads as they ran out. The other arm was used to throw. Throwing was initially exciting. Show me this, show me that had its pleasures. After a while, became work. I noticed as we moved down Duval there were many in wheel chairs who were not getting any beads. I changed my modus operandi. Threw beads only to those in wheel chairs and on crutches. The first portion of the trip was down Whitehead to Front. Then Front to Duval. The world changed the moment we hit Duval. It was like entering the mouth of a whale. The crowd and noise devoured us. Exciting! My game plan was to hit La Te Da after the parade to party. Never made it. I was too exhausted. Found my car and drove home. A good experience. However as indicated earlier, a one time experience. The flu season is upon us. Flu season 2022 has begun early. Experts say its severity is the worst in 13 years. If you have not, get a flu shot! Don't be stupid! Flu is non discriminatory. It kills as well as making one ill. The first game of the World Series over. The Phillies beat the Astros 6-5. The interesting thing about the game is that the Astros initially had a 5 run lead. At noon today, Syracuse/Notre Dame. Syracuse a 10 point favorite. Whatever, I don't care. As long as Syracuse wins. Though my heart tells me Syracuse will defeat the Irish by much more than 10 points. Over the years, I have closed the blog with: Enjoy your day! Many have been critical. Wondering how I could suggest that when many of the things I wrote about were of an unpleasant nature. I have decided to change my closing. To something hopefully more fitting: Be well! So au revoir, auf Wiedersehen, good bye to Enjoy your day! Hello to Be well! Be well!

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frank-a-mori-son · 3 years

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“Extremely detailed character sheet template”

Character Chart

Character’s full name: Frank Daniel Morrison Reason or meaning of name: The name Frank is after his Grandmother, Francesca and Daniel is his Fathers name. Character’s nickname: Killer, Frankie, “Hey asshole!” Reason for nickname: First for obvious reasons, second also, last one is just heard enough for it to be. Birth date: February 14th 1977

Physical appearance

Age: 19 years old How old does he/she appear: he could be confused for someone down to the age of 16. Weight: 65 kg/ 130 pounds Height: 173 cm/ 5′8′’ Body build: Lithe but athletic Shape of face: Heart Shaped Eye color: Brown Glasses or contacts: None, but he’ll need it once older Skin tone: White with neutral undertone Distinguishing marks: 2 visible facial scars, beautymark under right eye Predominant features: Large neck tattoo Hair color: Brown Type of hair: Straight Hairstyle: Currently an undercut Voice: Tenor voice Overall attractiveness: He’s got rouge-ish charms, so pretty attractive Physical disabilities: Hypermobility in his joints, unknown condition. Usual fashion of dress: Pretty casual, borderlining grunge and punk rock Favorite outfit: band tshirt, faux leather jacket and jeans Jewelry or accessories: He’d love piercings but has none, always wears some type of gloves.

Personality

Good personality traits: Resillient, loyal, brave and charismatic Bad personality traits: Bad temper, snarky, self critical Mood character is most often in: Agitated Sense of humor: Dick jokes and slap stick Character’s greatest joy in life: Making decisions for himself Character’s greatest fear: Becoming his parents Why? Due to how they ruined not only their lives, but that of an innocent child too. What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? At this point that has already happened, making a grave mistake with unthinkable consequences... Character is most at ease when: With people he trusts/cares about or if completely unnoticed Most ill at ease when: Overwhelmed by attention from strangers, feeling judged by peers. Enraged when: Made fun of, harrassed, hit or when someone he cares about is hurt. Depressed or sad when: Thinking of past mistakes, regrets and worrying about present/future. Priorities: Himself and those closest to him Life philosophy: Enjoy while it lasts, they or you won’t be around forever. If granted one wish, it would be: Freedom for those he cares for. Why? They do not deserve to be trapped in this realm, but he feels he does. Character’s soft spot: Quentin, Susie and dogs. Is this soft spot obvious to others? Quentin is very obvious to most Greatest strength: His will to keep fighting Greatest vulnerability or weakness: His own mental health and trauma Biggest regret: Dragging his Legion down with him Minor regret: Failing at ending himself Biggest accomplishment: Accepting his own sexuality Minor accomplishment: When he made it onto the basket ball team Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: The one time he got himself roofied on accident Why? he was trying to impress some older kids and failed badly. Character’s darkest secret: The fact he killed someone. Does anyone else know? His Legion and Quentin knows

Goals

Drives and motivations: Motivated to keep himself and those he cares for safe in the Entity realm. Immediate goals: Spend as much time with his boyfriend as possible, get many smooches Long term goals: Somehow, find a way out of the Entity realm. How the character plans to accomplish these goals: He has no idea, but he knows he can count on Quen to help How other characters will be affected: Hopefully, it’ll be a positive effect

Past

Hometown: Calgary, Canada Type of childhood: Rough and unstable Pets: None First memory: Being locked in his bedroom, the stench of sweetened smoke coming through the door crack and loud angry shouting from below. Most important childhood memory: His Grandma coming by on Christmas morning with a gift for him Why: because it was the first time he got a gift for xmas, it was sadly also the last time he saw his Grandma. Childhood hero: He really looked up to one specific foster dad, a good man. Dream job: Veterinarian Education: High School Dropout Religion: Christian but not practising Finances: Shaky at best, below poverty line.

Present

Current location: Ormond, Canada Currently living with: Foster dad, Clive Anderson Pets: None unless you count house flies Religion: Agnostic Occupation: Unemployed Finances: None existing.

Family

Mother: Lorraine Beatrice Morrison Relationship with her: Strained, disconnected Father: Daniel Patrick Montgomery Relationship with him: Tense and disconnected Siblings: Step-sister, Step-brother (both Fathers side) Relationship with them: None, he doesn’t know about them. Spouse: Quentin is his boyfriend Relationship with him/her: Good! very good, they’re very much in love. Children: None Relationship with them: Nothing Other important family members: Grandparents (Mothers side) who are still alive and miss their grandson.

Favorites

Color: Red, black and green Least favorite color: Pink and yellow Music: Death metal, Rock, Punk, retro Food: He’ll eat pretty much anything, has a huge sweet tooth Literature: He’s not a fast reader, so he doesn’t read. Form of entertainment: out with friends, listening to music, exploring and sports. Expressions: “Well, fuck” and “heck!” Mode of transportation: Other people’s cars, otherwise, his own two feet. Most prized possession: His faux leather jacket, as it’s bought with money he earned honestly.

Habits

Hobbies: Basket ball, art and climbing Plays a musical instrument? No, but he would’ve loved to learn Plays a sport? Basket ball! How he/she would spend a rainy day: Probably at a friends house or at their usual hangouts. Spending habits: he spends very little money as he rarely has some, but he does shop lift often. Smokes: Yes Drinks: Oh yes Other drugs: Usually just weed, though he has tried a few other things once or twice. What does he/she do too much of? Getting in trouble, drinking and smoking What does he/she do too little of? Eating, sleeping, bathing, just generally taking care of himself. Extremely skilled at: Most physical activities Extremely unskilled at: Reading, writing, maths.... Nervous tics: Foot bouncing, pacing, lip biting Usual body posture: Looks relaxed, but shoulders tensed. Mannerisms: Talks with his hands a lot Peculiarities: He’s a basic bitch in secret, he likes the big ass, sugary, cllorful and extra frappes but he’ll get them in secret like they’re illegal.

Traits

Optimist or pessimist? Pessimist, or realist as he would say. Introvert or extrovert? Ambivert! He can go both ways, depends on situation. Daredevil or cautious? Daredevil! Logical or emotional? A little bit of both, though most often ruled by emotion. Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? More like Disorderly neat, he doesn’t have enough stuff to make a mess and though he doesn’t enjoy it, he’s often the one to do dishes and laundry at home. Prefers working or relaxing? He really likes relaxing, but if he’d like working if he got a job he enjoyed Confident or unsure of himself/herself? He’s faux confidence most of the time. Animal lover? Yes. Very, very much so. Especially dogs.

Self-perception

How he/she feels about himself/herself: he considers himself damaged, unworthy and incabable of love. One word the character would use to describe self: Survivor One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: Out loud he’d call himself “a badass free spirit” What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? His ability to get up even when knocked down. What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? His insecurity What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? He thinks he’s got a pretty nice bod, all things considered. What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? His scarred hand, his big ears and his slight buck teeth. How does the character think others perceive him/her: As a bad boy, rebel, problem child and misfit. What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: Many things, though he really like to be taller

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: They just want something from him and they’ll leave once they’ve gotten what they wanted. Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? Often until he trusts them, then he’ll start opening up. Person character most hates: Clive, his parents, Ghostface Best friend(s): Julie, Joey and Susie Love interest(s): Quentin Smith, but Steve is handsome too. Person character goes to for advice: Depending on what it is, Quentin or Susie Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Susie is like a little sister to him Person character feels shy or awkward around: Jeff, it’s all very complicated Person character openly admires: Jeff, again, complicated Person character secretly admires: David. He’ll never say why. Most important person in character’s life before story starts: Nobody. After story starts: His Legion and, the light of his life, Quentin.

Snatched from here

#Extremely detailed character sheet template #Frank Morrison #The Legion #DBD #dead by daylight #DBD hc #The legion hc #Frank hc #personal headcanon #this took FOREVER

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 3 years

Text

Go Go Let's Go! Let's Go! Dateko! (Pt.1)

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI ⚠️

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 7000+

"You're looking at the face of the new captain of Date Techs iron wall" your son Futakuchi Kenji shouted as he burst through the front door of your humble abode.

"So they really went with you huh" you snicker "good maybe now you'll finally learn some respect for Moniwa and those other nice third years"

Kenji huffed as he set his bag down taking off his school tie and jacket.

"You know mom, most parents would be like 'oh my god Kenji I'm so proud of you we can order your favorite tonight I love you so much you sweet sweet child'" he mocks as you stare at him trying not to laugh.

"Since when has that been our relationship Kenji" you smile as you proceed over to your son.

You grab him forcing him into a tight squeeze "Oh I love my boy so much you are so precious I can't wait to go cheer for Date Tech every single game now" you gush as he tries to force his way from your grasp.

"Eww mom please stop" he says as he gags "I didn't mean that supportive. Please don't show up at our games."

"I don’t know Kenji those team mates of yours really do like me" you snicker as you turn around "I wouldn't ever want anyone to think I don't support my precious baby boy."

Kenji rolled his eyes as you laughed. You had always had a really good relationship with your son. You had him at the age of 20 while you were in a relationship with his father. Unfortunately the relationship didn't work out and his father left the area. You didn't see him much and neither did Kenji. You struggled as a single mom, finding your main support in your parents. You had a great relationship with them and the 4 of you together made up a tiny happy family.

Your parents helped you finish school while your mother watched Kenji. You graduated and getting the job you had worked years for. Now that you were established, things were going well. Kenji was doing well in school, playing volleyball for one of the top schools in the Miyagi prefecture and you were working long hours at a job you loved. No matter what you always made time for your son. He didn't really want you to attend his games so you would occasionally sneak into one watching from the nosebleeds. You loved seeing your son doing what he loved and you always encouraged him.

"So what does a team captain do" you ask as you place the order for your son's favorite take out.

"I mean I run pratices, lead drills and encourage the team" he says nonchalantly as he looks over his school work.

"Not a strong suit of yours Kenj" you smile as he shots a death glare at you.

"Well it's alot easier now that we have a manager to help too" he says.

"Oh you found one then?" You smile

"Yeah Nametsu Mai, she's a second year. She will be doing a lot of the note taking and helping with set ups. Also it's nice to have someone making bentos for the team" he says.

You look up from the bills on your counter "wait she's doing all that alone? That poor girl why does she have to do all that?"

"It's her job mom chill" Kenji says as he laughs at your outburst.

"And your job Kenji is to make sure your team runs efficiently so I expect you to be helping you" you turn as you raise your eyebrows at him.

"Mom ser-" Kenji starts as he sees the glare in your eyes.

"I'm 100% serious Kenji. If you don't help that girl I swear to God that I will be front and center at every single match. Every single tournament with a giant sign in the shape of your face and a shirt that says 'I'm Futakuchi Kenji's number one fan'" you glare as his eyes widen.

"Ok mom ok ill invite her over to help her my god you're mean" he says as you smile.

"I'm off Friday so I can help you make bentos too. You really suck Kenji at doing anything domestic" you smile as you walk to the door to get the takeout you ordered.

Kenji shakes his head as he groans.

Thank God I'm only captain for 1 year he thinks as he signs going to help you get the food.

Friday approaches quickly as the team gears up for their first round of tournaments

"Mai" Kenji calls as he motions for her to come over

"Yes Kenji?" Mai says with a bright smile

"So I want to help you prepare meals for the team for the tournament" he says.

The team stops. Mai looks at him in shock. Middle blocker Aone Takanobu just stares. Fellow outside hitter Obara Yutaka smiles as Libero Sakunami Kōsuke looks on in complete shock.

"Stop looking at me like that! I'm a helpful person!" He screams as they all go back to their activities.

"Ahh it's ok Kenji I really don't need he-" Mai waves shaking her hands.

"Just come to my place tonight ok" Kenji says as the gym doors suddenly burst open.

Coach Oiwake Takurō just shakes his head as he witnesses to former 3rd year volleyball players parade into the gym.

"Well hello our precious underclassmen" Former Middle blocker Kamasaki Yasushi shouts as he walks over to the team.

Kenji just shakes his head "you guys really must lead boring lives if you always have to come bother us during practice. Haven't you found a job yet Kamasaki?" Kenji smirks as he sees the third year began to get heated.

"And here I thought you changed Futakuchi" he says as he goes to grab the captain by the collar.

Suddenly someone yells "Aone" and Aone goes to break up the fighting duo.

"Still no respect for your upperclassmen I see" Former captain Moniwa Kaname says with a laugh.

"Well since you're here you might as well make yourselves useful" Kenji says as he stares at Kamasaki "go block for me."

Kamasaki loosens his tie as former wing spiker Sasaya Takehito says as he shakes his head "not again."

Practice ends as the team clears the gym. Mai and Kenji walk to the Futakuchi residence.

As they approach, Mai looks at Kenji.

"You really don't need to help me" Mai says "it's my job as manager."

"I know Mai but you see- umm well my mom kinda insisted I help you" Kenji says "she's a bit- much."

They walk to the front door as Kenji opens it. Y/N comes running from the kitchen to greet her son and hopefully their team manager.

"KENJI I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DIDNT BRING-" you stop as Kenji just stares at you.

"Oh hello! You must be Mai!" You say extending your hand to the young girl.

"Hello Ms. Futakuchi! It's so nice to meet you" Mai says as she bows, saying Y/Ns hand.

"You as well! Kenji you didn't tell me how cute she was! You must get attention for all the boys" you smile as Mai blushes.

"Mom seriously" Kenji says as his face turns read and he walks away putting his and Mai's bags on the floor.

"What? It's true! But take it from me honey, boys are nothing but trouble! Look at Kenji" you say as you smirk to your son, Mai trying to hide her giggling.

"Ok mom did you just invite her over to ridicule me?" Kenji says to you completely unimpressed

"Nope I can do that without inviting her over! Now let's go to the kitchen Mai" you say as you lead the young girl to the kitchen.

You and Mai work to prepare bentos as you put Kenji to work where you need him.

"Honestly Kenji just stay out of the way" you shout.

"Mom why did you even ask me to invite her over?! I'm literally doing nothing" he says as he sits at the table

"Yes and you're terrible at it" you roll your eyes.

Mai finds your relationship with Kenji amusing and lighthearted. She can tell you have a great relationship with your son and you both feel comfortable picking on each other.

"Ok that's the last of it Mai. You did such a great job! The boys are so lucky to have you. And if they ever say anything rude to you, you let me know and I'll take care of it" you nudge Mai as she giggles.

"Oh don't worry Ms Futakuchi, Coach Oiwake makes sure they appreciate me" she smiles.

"Coach Oiwaka? I don't think I've met him" you turn slowly looking at Kenji

"Why would you need to mom? You always tell me you're happy to get rid of me to whomever will take me off your hands" he says to you in a mocking tone.

"Still! Is he cute?" You say as Mai laughs out loud

"Mom we are not having this discussion " Kenji says as he places his hands over his ears and walks out of the kitchen.

"Well is he?" you say smiling at Mai.

"For an older man, yes" she says giggling "he's been divorced for a few years now. No kids to speak of. He's pretty dedicated to being the coach"

You smile. It's been forever since you've been out with a man. After Kenji's father left, you were top focused on your career and school to even consider dating, let alone be intimate. It had been at least 5 years since you last had sex. Honestly you weren't even sure that was accurate.

"Ms. Futakuchi" Mai says to you as you stare off into space "umm Ms. Futakuchi?"

"Oh gosh I'm sorry Mai! Just thinking. How about we keep the bentos here and I'll bring them tomorrow morning before you leave?" You smile as Mai nods.

"Heck maybe I'll even get to chance to see this gorgeous coach of yours" she winks

"LA LA LA MOM I CANT HEAR YOU" Futakuchi sings from the other room as you both laugh.

Saturday morning approaches as Kenji leaves early to help load the bus. You leave the house at 7:30 in your leggings and old date tech t shirt, figuring it would just be a quick stop to drop off the bentos and back home to enjoy a day free from Kenji and responsibilities as an adult.

You arrive at the school and see the bus outside. It seems like the team is in the gym so you quickly grab the box making your way to the gym. You start to press the door open as you enter slowly.

Coach Oiwake looks up from his notes to see a beautiful young women standing holding an entire box of bentos.

Who are you? And how in the world are you so attractive?

"Kenji you jerk get over here and help your poor mother" you say sarcastically as the team snickers.

"More like 'poor me having to deal with my MOM showing up to my volleyball gym’" kenji rolls his eyes as he quickly walks away from you.

"Love you too sweetheart" you blurt out as every laughs and Coach Oiwake smiles.

"Futakuchi is this really your mother?" Coach says as he watches Kenji out the bentos on the floor.

"Unfortunately yes" Kenji says as he rolls his eyes rejoining his team.

You turn to walk out as Coach Oiwake stops you.

"Mrs. Futakuchi, hello I'm Coach Oiwake Takurō" he says as he extends his hand to yours.

"Oh no 'Mrs' please. Just Y/N" you say as you blush.

The team is observing your interactions.

"Awe that's so cute" Mai gushes as Obara places a hand on Kenji's shoulder.

"Man I don't blame coach at all. Your mom is hot" Obara laughed as Futakuchi glared at him.

"Can we please load the bus and stop talking about my mother? Kenji says.

"Well Y/N we very much appreciate you helping Mai with the Bentos" Coach Oiwake says to you as you smile.

"Don’t mention it Coach Oiwake! Kenji should be doing it anyways AS THE CAPTAIN" you sarcastically shout to him as he walks by you.

Coach Oiwake laughs "I can see where Futakuchi gets his whit Y/N and please call me Takurō."

You smile.

"I hope you'll be able to make it out to the tournament this weekend. I know the boys would appreciate the support" Takurō says as Kenji snaps his neck around.

"Oh no coach my mom is busy this weekend right MOM" Kenji says as he bores holes into your face.

"Actually I don't work this weekend Kenj! Hey that's a great idea! I'll come to support our boys" you shout as you go to hug your son.

Takurō laughs as he watches how cute you interact with your son.

"I look forward to seeing you there Y/N" Takuro says as he turns around winking at you.

Is the coach really flirting with me? you think as you giggle to yourself.

"Oh my god" Kenji shouts as he walks away "Oh don't worry sweetie I promise I won't cheer too loud for my precious angel" you tease as you bid the team and Kenji a farewell.

Damn I need to get to know her Takurō thinks as he smiles as you walk away.

taglist: @axoxtxhxh

#dateko #date tech #Oiwake Takuro #justiceforthehaikyuucoachs #haikyuucoaches #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#team mom series #teammom #team mom

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edendaphne · 3 years

Text

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 19

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

–––––

CHAPTER 19: ATTACCA

Music glossary: Attacca - "To attack at once"; used as a direction in music at the end of a movement to begin the next without pause

–––––

(Mood music: "The Conversation" - Pearl Django)

Being mere months away from graduating lycée meant that their group of friends didn’t have as many classes together, due to their diverse individual interests and talents. However, they always made sure to make time to hang out after school before their extracurricular activities began.

And thus, Adrien, Nino, and Alya made their way to the classroom where the art club gathered to meet up with Marinette. From there, Adrien would make his way to either fencing lessons or Chinese, depending on the day of the week. Marinette would join him on days when he had Chinese (as she’d become determined to master the language ever since her uncle visited from Shanghai a few years back), Alya would go to her journalism club, and Nino would travel to his part-time internship at the local recording studio.

“–and the backlogs just keep piling up!” Alya spoke as they walked, voice full of vigor and excitement. “I’ve had to recruit yet another mod to help me keep order in the forums! Especially since the Ladyblog has started going international and we’ve had to organize servers in different languages. You wouldn’t believe how crazy it’s gotten in there recently!”

“Dang, babe,” Nino interjected. “Sounds like things are super rough for you right now.”

“Not really, more busy than anything. Especially because I have that big research article due next week, there’s just not enough hours in the day to try to read everything that goes on in there. But I have my mods report to me daily, ‘cause I always like to stay on top of everything that goes on in the chats!”

“What’s gotten everyone so riled up in the Ladyblog lately?” Adrien chimed in. “I don’t recall it being nearly this busy last year.”

The trio entered the art club’s classroom and settled down at the table where Marinette sat, getting her various sketches organized. The art teacher was quite easy going, so they didn’t have to talk in hushed whispers and could come and go as they pleased.

“Well, to be honest, it’s because of Chat Noir,” Alya replied.

Adrien tried to contain his surprise. “R-really? What– uhhh, what do people have to say about him?”

He winced inwardly. He knew he shouldn’t ask. But curiosity got the better of him today. Maybe learning the news through the filter or Alya’s paraphrasing instead of reading the negative comments firsthand would lessen the sting of what people said about him.

Marinette whipped her head around at the mention of his alter ego. “Wait, what about Chat Noir?” she inquired.

“Girl,” Alya replied, her voice filled with renewed exuberance. “You would not believe how much we’ve had to censor and moderate all the inappropriate things people have been saying!”

Adrien flinched in his seat. “Wow… do people really hate him that much?” he asked, trying to conceal the dejection in his voice.

Alya busted out into loud guffaws. “Hate?! Dude, most people don’t hate him; they LOVE him! By ‘inappropriate’ comments, I mean the kinda stuff you wouldn’t want your grandma to catch you reading! There’s a whole giant section dedicated to his new fan club!” she said as she removed her glasses so she could wipe away the tears of laughter.

“WHAT?!” Adrien squawked in confusion, his face feeling hotter than the ovens back at the bakery. “A fan club??”

Marinette burst into uncontrollable snickering. “Has it really gotten that bad?!”

Nino joined in, “Bro! Adrien, I can’t believe you haven’t heard Alya rant about these rabid fans before! They call themselves the ‘Noir Nation’, and the kind of things they’ve been writing would make adult romance authors blush like schoolgirls!”

Alya nodded, thoroughly amused. “And that’s not including all the fanfiction people have been writing.”

“Wait– the WHAT?! There’s fanfiction?!!” Marinette gaped in shock, as if she’d been hit in the face with an enormous pie. “Alya, how come I never knew about this?!”

“Why? You wanna read em? Girl, you’ll get no judgment from me. If you wanna check ‘em out for yourself, just go check under the hashtag ‘Ladynoir’.”

Marinette stammered as her arms flailed in her bewilderment, accidentally knocking her phone off the table and onto the floor, her eyes bigger and rounder than Adrien had ever seen them. “They have a ship name?!” she screeched.

“Just mind the ratings though,” Alya advised. “Some of them can get pretty steamy. You wouldn’t want someone to catch you reading those in public,” she added with a wink.

Marinette continued to sputter incoherently. “NO, I am NOT gonna read it!! It would be different if they were fictional characters, but I could never read fanfiction about real people!”

Alya raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Mm-hmm… Sure.”

Marinette’s hands flew to her face, trying to hide how red her entire face had gotten, and released a long squeak that resembled a hamster on helium. As shocked as Adrien was about these rather unexpected news, seeing Marinette’s over-the-top reaction brought a wide grin to his face and he busted out laughing.

He bent over to retrieve Marinette’s phone, since she was too busy being mortified to notice it had fallen to the floor. As he was about to hand it back, the screen lit up and Adrien saw the lockscreen wallpaper: it was the same photo of Ladybug and Chat Noir that he himself had saved earlier that day. He smiled, not exactly sure what to make of it, but finding it adorable that she’d liked the photo enough to set it as her lockscreen.

He tapped her shoulder, waiting for her to respond. She emerged from behind her impromptu hand shield and turned her head, then her eyes widened once again as soon as she saw what Adrien was showing her. She jolted straight up, stiff as a board, and her eyes met his, cheeks turning tomato red. He winked at her, amused about this little secret between them, and handed back her phone without a word.

Marinette accepted it with a meek-sounding, “Thanks,” looking like she wanted to explain the photo, but not able to do so unless she wanted Alya and Nino to find out that she was potentially a… ahem– “Ladynoir” shipper.

Switching the conversation to something else (which Marinette seemed to be eternally grateful for), the group chatted until it became time for them to scatter to their next destinations.

With a wave, Adrien exited the classroom and headed towards fencing practice, one of the few activities he decided to stick with despite not being forced to participate. Fencing, along with Chinese lessons, were not only enjoyable, but were also quite useful. Sadly, he didn’t have access to a piano anymore, so he wasn’t able to pursue that hobby for the time being. Hopefully later down the line, when things had settled down and he’d found his own place to live, he’d be able to finance one.

Thinking about the future had become an exciting pastime instead of an anxiety-inducing one, and it was all thanks to his friends and those he cared about. He smiled as he reached the door to the locker rooms, continuing to daydream of what was to come.

(Mood music: "Recollection 3" - Shirō Sagisu (BLEACH OST, "The Diamond Dust Rebellion")

Adrien finished getting dressed for fencing, his head still blissfully floating in the clouds. He stored his belongings into his assigned locker, shutting it with a loud clang, which echoed through the empty room.

Huh...? Empty?

He swiveled his head around, surprised that there was no one beside him. He stood up and began walking down the large room, peeking down the other locker rows looking for his classmates; but there was nobody.

Where was everyone? There’s no way that every single one of them was running late. Had his lessons been cancelled and he’d somehow missed a text message or email? He began heading back towards his locker to check his phone for any schedule changes.

Before he reached his destination, however, heavy thudding footsteps broke the eerie silence. Adrien whipped his body around to greet whoever they belonged to.

The owner of those footsteps was one of the last people Adrien expected to meet here.

“Gaspard?!”

Adrien stood agape, face to face with his old bodyguard, whom he hadn’t seen in a couple of years; not since he’d resigned and moved out of the country. Nathalie had mentioned that in his resignation letter, Gaspard said that he’d become involved in an overseas business venture involving the market of rare action figures. Nevertheless, Adrien couldn’t help but suspect that his father’s ill temper and poor treatment of their employees was the true reason for his departure.

Adrien’s first reaction was surprise and joy, and he rushed forward to greet and embrace him. However, as he approached and got a better look at the man’s face, Adrien’s mood instantly morphed into confusion and apprehension. There was something odd about his eyes.

Something wasn’t right. Why was Gaspard here? And why now?

He came to a halt about a meter before reaching him. An oppressive weight seemed to press in all around him, and he had to suppress a shiver. “Wait. Gaspard, did–” he gulped, “–did my father send you?”

His old bodyguard did not reply, but took a heavy step towards him. Adrien stepped back.

“Please… I can’t go back. I live somewhere else now, and I’m very happy there. Whatever he told you about the situation, it’s a lie.”

His bodyguard continued to approach him, his stare vacant and unsettling.

Fighting the urge to panic, he pleaded, “You don’t have to do this. If he’s offered you compensation, I can match it; it’ll just take me a bit of time. But we can work something out, right?? For old time’s sake?”

He continued walking backwards until he bumped into something firm, but it wasn’t a wall; it was another person. Before he could turn around, they grabbed him by the shoulders, detaining him and preventing him from running away.

He was about to shout for help when something sharp jabbed him on the side of the neck, injecting a cold liquid. Adrien’s eyes grew wide in terror.

Shit.

Adrien swore as he jerked away, elbowing whoever was behind him and managing to break free. Rubbing at the spot where the syringe had stabbed him, he glanced back to take a look at his other assailant, only to see... another Gaspard?

Why are there two of him??

This was wrong. Gaspard didn’t have a twin; he knew that for a fact. He’d worked for the Agrestes ever since Adrien was a toddler and was too young to even pronounce his name correctly (hence the nickname “Gorille”, which stuck around for years afterwards). Additionally, there was something uncanny, otherworldly, even, about the way these two men looked and moved.

He shook himself out of his stupor. He didn’t have time to contemplate any possible explanations. He had to get out of there fast.

He sprinted towards the exit, but only managed to travel a few paces before he lost his footing and tripped. He fell to the ground hard, almost hitting his head on a nearby bench. As he struggled to get up, he realized that his fingers and toes had already gone numb.

Not good.

Time was running out. Adrenaline coursed through him and, with a grunt, he hefted himself to his feet and scrambled towards the exit, as fast as he could despite a heavy limp. Though his heart was hammering and his legs felt like they were filled with sand, he pushed himself, concentrating on reaching the door.

After taking a few steps, however, he realized that even if he did manage to exit the locker room, the area beyond was an open courtyard. Meaning he wasn’t going to be able to reach someplace safe before getting caught. He had no choice but to transform into Chat Noir, and hopefully Plagg’s powers and strength could help him escape and find somewhere to hide.

He’d scarcely uttered the first syllable in the transformation phrase when he was tackled to the ground. A giant hand swiftly covered his mouth and Adrien felt his hands get bound together with thick zip ties behind his back. A muffled scream of writhing frustration made its way up his throat as his limbs became more and more useless by the second.

No… This can’t be happening! Please, this can’t be how it all ends!

Just when his life had finally gained a semblance of normalcy and he’d found happiness again, it would get ripped away and he would disappear without a trace, leaving everyone to wonder what had happened to him. Leaving his friends to think that Gabriel had pulled him from school and they would never see him again. Leaving Ladybug to wonder if Chat had abandoned her forever. Leaving her to fight Hawkmoth alone. Again.

He couldn’t let that happen. He thrashed and struggled as furiously as he could, fighting the feelings of overwhelming helplessness that threatened to consume him. Nearing despair, he was too distracted to notice Plagg phrasing through the wall, away from the skirmish, in search of the only person who could save him.

(Mood music: "Run" - Ludovico Einaudi)

Marinette fidgeted with her pencil, her feet wiggled and bounced under her desk. She didn’t understand; when she’d arrived at the art club, her head had been filled with inspiration and ideas that she’d been excited to draw and execute. However, at the moment, her mind was filled with noise and disquietude.

Having had enough, she excused herself to visit the restroom. Once she’d walked far enough from the classroom, she opened her purse to talk to Tikki about her current dilemma.

“It’s the same feeling as last night, Tikki! Except that would mean one of three possibilities. Option A.) It’s nothing and I’m going crazy. And— don’t give me that look, Tikki! I can see what you’re thinking and I don’t have time for your cheeky sass right now!” The kwami snickered while Marinette cleared her throat and continued, “Option B.) that Chat is here, at this school, which is impossible because his school’s on the other side of the city, that’s why he always leaves the house super early for his long commute.”

Tikki opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but then didn’t (...or couldn’t?).

Marinette resumed, “Or, C.) that my–– what do I even call it? My ‘Spidey sense’??–– that it’s got a long distance mode, and Chat is all the way across Paris and he’s in trouble! But what am I supposed to do about that from here?! I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking!”

Tikki shrugged. “Follow your instincts, Marinette. There’s no harm in taking a quick look around the school, right?”

Marinette groaned. “UGH! It doesn’t make sense!! Am I going to get interrupted like this all the time from now on?” She shook her head resolutely. “No. I can’t just go off on random field trips every single time I feel a random fit of anxiety. I’m sure it’s just leftover jitters from last night. I’m supposed to call Master Fu after school anyway; he can help me figure everything out. I’m just gonna go back to class and forget about it.”

Tikki frowned, not quite convinced, but deciding not to press further.

Marinette made her way back to the classroom in a frustrated huff. But as her hand reached to turn the handle, the feelings of danger and urgency multiplied tenfold. Without a word, she sprinted away in the opposite direction, not even knowing where she was running to, only knowing she had to get there immediately.

She reached the large common area of the school downstairs. Her head whipped around, frantically searching for something, anything. In her haste, she didn’t notice a small black creature zoom into her open purse.

A few moments later, she felt a frantic tugging at her shirt from below.

“Marinette!! Over there! Check the locker room, quick!!!” Tikki whisper-screamed as she peeked outside the purse, her tone uncharacteristically frantic.

Marinette nodded, then sprinted to the locker room.

“Wait! You should transform first!” Tikki added.

No time!

“Marinette, wait!!”

Despite Tikki’s protests, Marinette raced towards the double doors, tackling them open.

Three sets of eyes landed on her as she skidded to a halt, but only one pair consumed her entire attention. She gasped in horror, hands flying to her face as she stared at what was occurring in front of her. Adrien let out a desperate, muffled scream urging her to run.

His panicked voice snapped her out of her dazed shock; but instead of running, she stood her ground, eyes darting back and forth across the area searching for something useful. The room was remarkably barren except for a lone broom a short distance away from her. She grabbed it and leaped towards the closest attacker (the one holding Adrien down), swinging it like a baseball bat.

The man didn’t even try to avoid the hit; the broomstick merely bounced off the side of his face where Marinette had hit him. She frowned in confusion, then tried hitting him again, bringing the stick down on the top of his head like an axe.

SNAP.

The end of the broom flew off, and Marinette stared in shock at the broken broomstick.

“What the hell are you?!” Marinette exclaimed, shifting her grip on the shortened wooden stub.

She pounced at the second bodyguard, bringing her weapon down in a stabbing motion; but he swatted at her hand, disarming her. She yelped in pain, leaping backwards to get some distance between them.

She was outmatched. The only strategy available was to use their own size against them. With a feint to the side, she shot at his legs for a takedown, hoping to catch him off balance. He called her bluff and shoved her backwards with his giant palm, then kneed her in the stomach.

Winded from the impact, Marinette doubled over with a gasping wheeze, fighting with all her might to keep herself from collapsing onto the ground. She forced herself upright and attacked again. With a clumsy jerk, she lunged forward, swinging wild punches at her opponent. The shots connected but his expression barely changed; it was like beating a breathing punching bag.

The bodyguard backhanded Marinette across the face. Pain shooting across her cheek, she staggered, almost losing her balance. In her daze, she watched helplessly as the man reared his arm back. There was no chance to dodge. His fist connected with her abdomen, delivering a liver shot that shut down her entire body. She crumpled to the floor as if boneless. She tried to call out Adrien’s name, but her mouth merely opened in a silent scream.

Marinette could hear Adrien’s distressed screaming, but it sounded distant, like they were underwater. The edges of her vision grew black and fuzzy, the entire room dissolving around her. She had to consciously force her lungs to inhale, but couldn’t fill them all the way, as if a boulder had been placed on top of her chest.

Faintly, she felt herself getting picked up off the ground and carried away over someone’s shoulder. Disoriented and semi-blinded, the sudden movement and rough jostling made her head spin and gave her vertigo. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

A few moments later, they stopped moving, and she heard a door burst open. Where were they? Before she could gather her senses, she was in the air, thrown several meters away, landing with a hard thud. A sharp pain traveled down her body as she rolled into the wall across them. The shriek that tried to escape her throat emerged as a strained, shallow whine.

The man stomped out, leaving her alone in the room. “Stop…!” she rasped out, managing to tilt her neck upwards, head pounding.

The bodyguard slammed the door shut, followed by a bang and a clattering sound that could only mean he’d broken the doorknob of whatever room she was in.

Marinette's vision became more and more blurred. At the verge of losing consciousness, she fought to keep her eyes open as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

No, she couldn’t pass out! She had to save Adrien! Stay awake, Marinette, stay awake!!

She bit down on her lip hard, focusing on the sharp sting, on the swelling that was already forming around her right eye, forcing herself to feel the pain her body was in. At this moment, feeling pain was better than falling unconscious. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly regaining her senses.

She reached down to open her purse and get Tikki’s help… only to be met with emptiness. Panic settled in her gut as she realized that sometime during the skirmish, the purse had slipped off her shoulder. She sat up, slowly, so she wouldn’t risk feeling faint again from the change in positions.

She squinted, adjusting her eyesight to the darkness of the room. It seemed to be some sort of supply closet. After a failed few attempts to stand, she crawled towards the door instead, careful not to bump into the crates and shelves that filled the area.

The girl eyed the broken doorknob wearily. She was pretty proficient at lockpicking and breaking into things, but not as good at breaking out. Her only hope was that Tikki would be able to find her… if she was even nearby.

She swore to herself. Why had she rushed in and attacked two grown ass men (who, incidentally, may or may not be supernatural to boot!) instead of hiding and creating a strategy?! Now she was useless, Tikki was gone, and Adrien was surely on his way to get auctioned to the highest bidder in the criminal black market and ransomed off for an enormous sum. Great job, Marinette. Adrien’s been abducted and it’s all your fault.

Gathering all the determination she could muster, she tried to call out for help. But her voice was still too hoarse, and only a weak croak came out. She clenched her fists, grumbling irritably. Time for a different approach. Somehow, she needed to make noise.

After a brief search, she found a hard, metallic object that she could use to hammer on the door. She tested it out; it was surprisingly effective. She doubled her efforts, making as big a racket as possible. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of time before somebody heard her, let her out, and she could go find Adrien.

She couldn’t let anything else happen to another loved one. Not again.

–––––

I'M REEEAAAAALLY SORRY FOR THAT CLIFFHANGER JSHDKFJHSKDF ᕕ(╯°д°)ᕗ I tried splitting up the sections differently but it didn't really flow as well.

But the next chapter is almost done, so I'll have it ready by next weekend!!

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #enemies to lovers #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes

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datawyrms · 3 years

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Responsibility

For Phic Fight 2021, The Lord of Chaos’s prompt c:

Spectra fed off of misery; nocturne fed off of dreams. The elusive town cryptid that only shows up when people need saving gains a following and Danny finds that he gets a boost from the people who have faith in him, he starts to become aware of them, especially when they needed him.

The rest of the town seeing him as benevolent was a positive thing. The uncomfortable stabs that his ‘parents were right’ about ghosts lessened as fewer and fewer treated him as a monster just as troublesome as Technus. He didn’t need to tense when the news was on, to hear his attempts to help called a ‘savage attack’, or that stupid nickname. He’d slept a bit easier, knowing that people did understand he only meant to help lately. Sure, Mom and Dad might still insist he was an evil ghost, but it was so much easier to ignore that when he didn’t feel he was only one step away from proving them right to everyone else. Clumsy and reckless he could take. Just as long as he wasn’t some ‘evil soul sucking abomination.’

Having Jazz a bit more in the loop had actually started to pay off. She wasn’t as good at catching a ghost as Sam or Tucker, sure, but she wasn’t hindering him anymore either. Honestly, if all three of them worked together, his powers weren’t really needed unless something huge found its way to town. Which his friends had insisted he take advantage of at least once a week, to let them handle the usual patrols and alerts while he tried to catch up on work and sleep. Mostly sleep, to be honest. Focusing on work was almost impossible when his ghost sense went off, even if he knew they didn’t need help. He wanted to go, he had to go; but they were very good at yelling at him for not ‘trusting them’ to handle things. He really did need the break. That’s why he was feeling a little less haggard, a bit more alert. At least, that’s what made the most sense.

Then the ‘lurching’ started. He couldn’t think of a better name then that. It wasn’t like his ghost sense, that sort of just crawled out of him and didn’t give him much to go on beyond ‘there’s definitely a ghost around’. That could go off and leave him rolling his eyes at the box ghost, or fighting for his life against Plasmius with the exact same feeling. The lurching was...different. Like his ghost sense forgot where his windpipe was and decided to escape in a random direction. Inssenantly. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying, worse than the pang that would pass when he ignored whatever got his ghost sense acting up. It just kept pulling in a direction, but refusing to get out from under his skin. Sometimes it would keep going for an entire class, which just made whatever the lurch’s chosen direction noticeably cold. He was pretty sure he was immune to frostbite nowadays, but that didn’t make explaining things easier if someone spotted his hand looking almost blue from lack of blood flow.

Maybe his core was on the fritz again. Who knew what sort of weird things could happen to a human who spent half his time dead?

Tucker suggested that he was just getting ghost puberty to go with the ‘joys’ of human puberty. Which sure, was funny and they could shove each other around and forget about it for a time. It didn’t feel like the right answer. None of his other powers acted up, honestly he was feeling better after fights then he usually did lately. Less drained, anyway. It wasn’t stopping either.

It just got worse. More intense. More frequent. Instead of vanishing the area the lurch decided to pull in seemed to grow the longer he tried to dismiss it. Noticeably. To the point even Dash asked if he should avoid punching him because ‘that shit looks contagious’. (He privately hoped it was. Dash totally deserved weird pulling that made you frost over.)

He had to ignore it, he couldn’t just drop everything every single time the lurch decided to show up. He’d look completely off his rocker, running in some random direction because ‘my shoulder feels cold to the north-west’. If it was close enough to be a real danger, his ghost sense would just go off!

So Saturday was going to be a ‘lurch hunt’. No more ignoring it, no school or mandatory activities that should keep him from following the strange cold that felt desperate to go after something. Yet even deciding that made his insides squirm. He had to follow it, he should be- but that was dumb. He missed enough class as it was.

So why was it so hard to focus on anything else when it started going? Like nothing else mattered? It wasn’t like he was drifting off or sleepy either.

Jazz said he was ‘fixated’ on something.

But how do you fixate on some weird feeling under your skin? He didn’t even know what it was! Just that Sam and Tucker kept needing to flick things at him to get him to pay attention to reality. One of his best rested weeks in ages, and he was worse off then he’d been focus wise in years. Stupid ghost powers. Saturday took far too long to come. Even when one of the lurches stopped pulling he couldn’t relax. Instead of relief he just felt. Hollow. He’d woken up in a panic, half expecting to be chained down in one of Vlad’s sick laboratories, but he wasn’t cut open. He wasn’t even injured. Safe, in bed- and feeling like the cold ran off with his ribcage.

Something was wrong with him. That had to be it. Once they found the cause, he’d solve it and it would stop. It had to.

Following it shouldn’t make him feel as relieved as it did. Taking his ghost form and flying after some...feeling that wanted to drag him somewhere was more like when Freakshow’s Staff dominated his mind than anything positive. A compulsion he couldn’t help giving in to.

At least his ghost sense went off once he’d followed it long enough, finding one of Vlad’s mutant ghost animals chasing someone through the streets.

Normal. A bit of one sided banter to get it’s attention, a few punches and ectoblasts and it was shoved away in the thermos. No more pulling, and one less ghost terrorizing town. That didn’t make sense. Unless it really was just his ghost sense increasing in range while becoming infinitely more irritating?

That’s what it felt like, at first. He’d follow, ghost sense, find the problem. Except there was something odd. Every ghost he found like this wasn’t just wandering about, or making a mess. They were all actively chasing, stalking or attempting to scare someone. Okay, so it homed in on more ‘violent’ ghosts then? That seemed possible.

Until one of the lurches kept pulling, but there was no ghost sense. The one that kept pulling him towards a man with his back against the wall, fumbling with a wallet. The man who wasn’t being threatened by Skulker, or a vulture, or any of this typical fare. Just another human with a gun, and the will to use it.

This so wasn’t his thing. He fought ghosts, they were half his fault to begin with. So why was his ghost sense leading him to this? Well. It hadn’t. Lurching confirmed for not ghost sense?

Jazz would totally chew him out for tackling someone with a gun. He just had to forget to go intangible at a bad time, and he’d be all ghost. Or worse, go intangible and someone else got a body full of lead. He couldn’t just...ignore it now that he’d seen it though. The chill that hummed below his skin wouldn’t let him.

So the guy was a bit startled about getting pulled through a wall and dropped off the other side. Probably lost some change. He’d expected a bit of fear, at least. Like come on, some ghost just grabs you while a gun’s in your face? That’s still scary.

Yet he didn’t seem bothered. Just thankful. Called him a ‘hero’. For being in the right place at the right time. By just happening to be there because...because he knew? Something in him knew. That was wrong, he shouldn’t just know when people were in danger like that. He vanished without a word, not wanting to stick around and hear more. It was coincidence. Hopefully the guy wasn’t too offended that he just bolted, but he couldn’t stay there. He didn’t like how the complement felt good in a way he couldn’t describe. That the cold in his chest thrummed with a pleasure that made the rest of him feel ill. He wasn’t a hero, he was just some kid. A kid who still wanted to have a life that wasn’t all this, eventually.

He can’t ignore at dinner that he picks at his meal, not from exhaustion but because he’s not hungry. He’s still energized, he’s still full- and no amount of gagging over the sink makes his stomach empty. ‘Ghosts helping humans only do so for their own ends’. He’d ignored and denied that, he hadn’t been getting anything out of being the local ghost punching bag- so why was he now? Did he steal something? Feed on that person he saved?

He hated that his face didn’t even have the sense to look pale at the idea. He looked healthy. Probably better than he usually did. Even the circles under his eyes weren’t as noticeable. Were Mom and Dad right? Was he just...more of a ghost now?

Sam and Tucker don’t buy his ‘couldn’t figure it out’ explanation. Mostly because he refuses to try it again with them along to help figure it out. Even as he grows cold and more lurching keeps gnawing at his attention. He’s human too, he doesn’t need...whatever this is.

Sam kindly tells him he’s being a gigantic idiot.

He’s too distracted by the chill to notice. Tucker explains that after he’s blinking confused at the corn chips bouncing off his forehead. They laugh it off. He’s pretty sure they’re just being nice. They know something’s wrong, but he can’t bring himself to tell them yet. They wait. For now.

He ignores the feeling. He tries to ignore the guilt, that he knows someone out there is in danger. That someone out there needs his help. That all he needs to do is walk out of class and he can go do some actual good. He can’t go chasing after everyone in town. Things happen! He’s just one person! The sooner the lurching in him figures that out, the better. It still ruins his focus, makes him grit his teeth and fidget in place. He wants to go, he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t even know what he wants. For it to stop. That would work. The tugging stops halfway into his next class, the frost in his blood lifts. It leaves him empty. Starving.

Everything tastes bland. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Even his favourites barely seem worth the effort of snagging off a table. He’ll eat, he can’t have Mom and Dad looking at him like Sam and Tucker are now, but it just feels heavy in his stomach. A brick he’s decided to try digesting for fun. He’s hungry, ravenously so, but doesn’t want anything.

He knows exactly what he wants and hates himself for it. Stupid ghost half. He doesn’t need that, he doesn’t want to be some...leech. Seeking out trouble just to benefit from it. It’s wrong, he hates it, and if he could grab his core and slam it on the table for a few hours he would. Just until it remembered that they helped when they could. When it was close by, when it was a ghost problem. Not every bit of danger in town!

Misplaced aggression goes to the nearby ghosts. Which it often had, really. It’s normal. He’s just making sure people don’t get hurt, ignoring the humming of MINE coiled in his ectoplasm. The other ghosts feel it. They hear it when he hunts them down and wants to keep swinging even when they put claws or hands up in surrender. He doesn’t trust himself to banter with them right now. He doesn’t want to hear the words his ghost side wants to say. He shoves them back into the Ghost Zone, and the smarter ones stay away. A stronger ghost is already feeding here. There’s nothing for them to take.

He’s running on autopilot. Days are meaningless. He can’t focus in class, his notes are nonexistent and his patience is beyond frayed. He can’t sleep, the cold is too much, the emptiness hurts and fewer ghosts show up. He can’t even blow off steam by kicking the Box Ghost through a wall. He won’t follow it, and he’s fairly sure it’s going to kill him. That or his parents will. Even they have to notice how he barely eats and won’t focus on anything short of a horn section in his face.

Sam and Tucker sit him down. Force the issue. They know he’s a mess. They don’t have answers. How could they? His choices are to starve this ghost instinct out, or to just give into it and completely ruin his human life. He’ll be fine. It’ll stop eventually if he keeps ignoring it. Then he’ll be able to focus again. It’s all he can cling to.

He’s stubbornly ignoring the prickling awareness of other thoughts. Ones not from his brain. Ones that get louder when the lurch grips him, that practically overwhelm his own as fear and panic grows. Maybe he’s just gone a little off the deep end. He doesn’t hear voices. He refuses.

Jazz has her concerns. That he can’t ignore it. She knows more about Mom and Dad’s research, more about classifications of ghosts. She tries to be gentle, nudging him to be aware that stronger ghosts were more...like a concept then an individual.

He doesn’t want to be some sort of ghost concept of problem solving. She’s worried he won’t have that choice. Some part of him already knows she’s right.

He seeks out Valerie. For help. She’s confused, baffled and suspicious. After all this time he spent convincing her he’s not evil, he’s begging her to call him that. To convince other people he is. To make them fear him and his help. He doesn’t want to be a hero like she is. He just wants to be himself, doesn’t want to hear the people begging for help when he’s trying to sleep.

She doesn’t understand, but understands one thing. He’ll feed on those who rely on them. She has to stop that, doesn’t she?

They fight, and often. He does poorly, lets her save people while his misfires cause damage and chaos. It makes him want to scream each time. Some of the thoughts and voices dim. Not enough. Too many are understanding, too many can see the regret and pain that wrack him with each failure. He’s always hungry. He wants to try again, but everything in him rebels against it. The ghost hunter avoids him. It’s ‘not a fair fight’. He’s ‘not himself’. His green eyes are more dead then they ever have been. He can’t maintain his legs.

As a human, all he wants to do is sleep.

Mom and Dad notice. He collapses and his eyes flare green when they try to help him. Just automatically sensing them as danger, against him, not someone that calls for him. They think he’s possessed, and he wishes they were right.

He half considers not telling them the truth. Let them think of a way to let his ghost half quiet down, to stop hungering for validation he doesn’t want.

Jazz tells them before they can do much of anything. Pinches his ear for being stupid- that getting experimented on won’t help him.

Their hugs make him feel bad. This should be a good moment, a time where he feels safe and accepted. But his mind is not his own, not with the others whispering in his skull. Their warmth and love feels like a drop in the empty barrel of his hunger.

They want him to be healthy. They want him to be happy. He can’t be happy if he needs to abandon his life to be healthy. He tries to explain it, the emptiness, the voices (Jazz cuffs him again for hiding this, which seems fair.) and they promise to try and figure out why, maybe find a way to limit it or separate himself from whatever connection his ghost half seems to have made with the town. Until then- they encourage him. To go ‘help’ people. To feed the clawing cold taking over his existence. He’s not sure if they really mean it. It doesn’t stop him from listening.

It’s hard to feel guilty when it feels so good. To have the fear quiet and be replaced with thanks. Someone’s out of danger and happy, and he feels less hollow for a time. Mom and Dad switch him to home school. They say it’s a better fit, to be able to stop and start based on when he’s not being dragged away by his own instinctive need to protect people.

It feels like giving up. Admitting he’s too much of a freak to live like everyone else. Dad tries to compare it to his special classes when he was young. Different to fit his learning style, not failing. The pulls and voices aren’t nearly as distracting when he’s full. Food actually tastes like more than sand again. Sam and Tucker don’t need to try as hard to smile now that he isn’t looking like death warmed over. He doesn’t like not getting to see them as often. He can’t deny he feels better this way, and can actually pay attention now. Even if most of the time he just wants to nap when the hunger stops. Go ‘back into hiding’ as the town thinks he does.

It’s getting better. Slowly. Not in a way he wanted it to. Better nonetheless.

#Danny Phantom #phic fight 2021 #Team Ghost #how to mangle a prompt in 3k words #it's a really neat idea tho!#angst train choo choo

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hanorganaas · 2 years

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heres a quick timeline summarizing on why i have been quiet on both here and my work on the legendary verse:

in september of 2019 my mom forced me to enroll in a program for "special needs" adults. I had no choice cause i barely had any money and was still under her control and like after being verbally abused DAILY i was willing to go to jail than stay in the house at that point.

from the period from september of 2019-december 2019 i was slightly aware of the toxic tendancies of the program including infantilization and gaslighting

shit started to go downhill january of 2020. a 29 year old neurodivergent woman began harassing me after humiliating me in the name of a guy. i rightfully cut her off but she threatened to make my life hell if i didnt be her friend again. I warned the specialist and she continued to harass me and continued to today. tactics included coming to events uninvited and sabtagouing friendshps each time ending with me getting repremanded and not her for "not letting it go"

i started my job later that jaunary, which is one of the few good things that happened when i moved in.

in february of 2020 between the woman mentoned above and trying to adjust to work life i was on burnout and i tried to figure out why.

march 2020 the covid panademic put everyone into lockdown and not doing the infantizing activities and starting to reflect i realized that this program was pretty toxic.

summer of 2020 i went back to work and found massive success at my job being promoted twice. socializing with non toxic people and being treated like a human for the first time in years despite being disabled doubliy made me realize not fighting my mom on the program was a mistake. it was further clear when i started going to in person programs again and my burnout that left during covid came back.

fall 2020 /winter 2021 i was promoted to full time ar my office and stopped going to activities all together. it was too much and i was tired. i was bullied by both the staff and my mother for it despite none of the activities in the program all together. but i continued to focus at workz

june 2021 the woman who i mentioned who harassed me for months decided to come to a mini party with me and my friends uninvited and yes i flipped because her bullying gave me ptsd. she started trouble and of course when i told the staff i got laughed at when i said she triggered me and got repremanded for not letting it go....this was my final straw with the program.

fall 2021/Winter 2022 i have tried numerous times to tell my mother how mentally this program fucked me up. despite going to work and doing my job i had such bad depression i would spend the rest of the day in bed. i kept telling her this but she refused to listen stating it was never about me but her pride. it made it clear i needed to get a better position at my job and get out.

as of now i am planning to go back to school for paralegal work in august. i am hoping i will be promoted to paralegal sometime afterwards at my job. so i at least have a timeline of getting out of here which is making it bareable.

unfortunately the depression has made me lag on the legendary heroine verse but i am determined to finish it. but it may be long breaks in between as i get my shit together. but i love you guys ill keep you updated! and hopefully i can get more writing soon

#nor speaks #long post #ableism tw

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vanderlindemangofarm · 4 years

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The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each!

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together.

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”.

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships.

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on.

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are.

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls.

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM.

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not.

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability.

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits.

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day.

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room.

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing.

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward.

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite?

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine.

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont.

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers.

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it.

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job.

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails.

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy.

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of.

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compassionatereminders · 3 years

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hiii! accidentally clicked the unfollow button for a sec in attempting to send an ask, just letting you know nothing's wrong on your or my end.

i'm here to share that we FINALLY found an accessible apartment a couple weeks ago!! we are moving next week. i am super excited. the fact it took a year and talking to 60 (!) landlords and going to 19 viewings to find one also got me on the front page of one of our most major news outlets. it's wild.

how are you doing? is life treating you okay? i have been so busy lately, in early june i got my own custom and amazing wheelchair and i immediately starting doing so much stuff. trauma therapy occupied most of summer time, and then during break from that i started studying again (high school diploma here i come!) and did some shifts with our elections.

now i am focusing on moving and my one class at the adult high school program, and then once we're done moving hopefully trauma therapy will continue. my life is just going so amazingly well it is wild

No worries about accidentally unfollowing! I have given up on keeping track of my activity page, so I don't see who follows me and who doesn't - and I definitely don't hold it against people either way. I'm glad we're good, though! It's been a while and I've missed talking to you. Congrats on FINALLY finding an accessible apartment! It sucks that it took so long but I'm glad you finally succeeded - and congrats on making front page news while searching! I'm happy to hear that trauma therapy has been progressing as planned and that you've even started studying again. I am also super excited to hear that you've gotten a proper wheelchair! All in all it sounds like you're doing well and that makes me very happy. Not much is going on over here. I've finally applied for permanent disability and am currently waiting for the municipality to review my case. But besides that and the UTI which I just started treatment for, it's same old, same old. I'm living a quiet life in my group home as usual. Right now I'm just enjoying that it's weekend so that my boyfriend is here to take care of me while I'm sick from both the UTI and the antibiotics. That being said, when I start feeling better, I have a plan to do some real life activism, first of all by becoming a spokesperson for the customer base of the company my mom works for (a pharmaceutical company which develops medication for brain related illnesses) - so that's potentially exciting if they decide they want me! I've been playing with the idea of real life activism for a while and I think I'm ready to get started!

#chat with kat

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theodora3022 · 4 years

Text

Party Sickness(Tamaki x F!reader)

Pairing: Tamaki Amajiki x F!Reader

Summary: Tamaki? Party? No one in their right minds would put those two words the same sentence. But a career as a pro hero requires certain amount of socialising, which includes attending events such as celebration parties. “Social training” has many draw backs, but it also made him realize how wonderful it can be to be by your side.

Notes: The reader is single, and they are both in third year of UA. This is for this collab by @ilikemaruchan .I never participated in one before, so I am kind of nervous...Anyway this is inspired by a song! There might be a little Fire emblem three houses reference, but nothing major. I started doing work counts because it gives me a sense of accomplishment haha--

Special thanks to @drownedbytears for proof reading this!

Word count:1.5k

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

I don’t care by Ed Sheeran

Warnings: Social anxiety, fluff. May or may not be self-indulgent.

I am to blame. Tamaki silently cursed himself for being so easily convinced. Should have just stayed at home and have regular dinner, instead of this. So many people, so many things unknown...Why are they so loud? Would it hurt to enjoy each other’s presence quietly? And why is the room so cold?!

He should have never said yes to Mirio and Nejire. But Tamaki always got a damned soft spot for his friends ‘pleading puppy eyes.

“Just this once...please Tamaki? You would need to go to events as a pro hero, you know.”

Nejire’s periwinkle eyes.

“Think of this as a special training session! It can be social training for the future.”

Mirio’s ocean blue eyes.

Those incidents resulted him trailing behind Mirio in a crowded party room at eight p.m., unsure how to behave or even where to look. Tamaki was never the one for casual conversations, let alone a situation such as this. He is sure that Mirio has the best intentions, trying to transform his secluded caterpillar-cocoon shy friend into a social butterfly. That courage alone deserves admiration. However, there is no hope for him. Tamaki learned that lesson long ago. He thought being one of the big three would make socialising easier, oh was he so wrong. No matter how hard he tries, he can never find the right thing to say. A problem Mirio or Nejire never seem to have nor understand. As the two shining social stars of third year, they are known for their approachable, cheerful personalities.

“Man, you alright?” Snapping his attention back to reality from the butterfly encyclopedia in his memory, Tamaki was greeted by Mirio’s concerned eyes. “Are you feeling unwell? Did you eat something upsetting your stomach?” It is very kind of Mirio to express worries, but Tamaki prefer to be alone right now. All this noise and people are taking tolls on his frail energy. Quick, think of a reasonable exit strategy Amajiki. You can at least do this, and this thirty-minute suffering can end temporarily.

Excusing himself to the washroom, Tamaki finally got some tranquil alone time beside the sink. Why? Why can’t I do this? Why can’t I be as lively as Nejire or Mirio? They made it seem so easy, just walk up to strangers with their big smiles. Bam they are friends after fifteen minutes. Splashing some cold tap water onto his face, to hopefully clear his mind, Tamaki sighed. Why he cannot spit out a sentence without stuttering? Maybe there is indeed something wrong with him, there is no other explanation.

After five minutes of inner struggle, Tamaki decides to give this special training a try. He would leave Mirio and strike up conversations with some of the friendly people he knew from classes. Certainly one or two of them would want to talk to him, right?

Mirio seems surprised, but he is happy for Tamaki’s bold decisions, nevertheless. “Man, you’re going to do great! Remember to look into their eyes, most of them won’t bite.” Eye contact?? So they can see any emotion you have? Why would he expose himself like that?

I want to go home...No, Tamaki, you are going to give this your all. This once you are not going to flee like a coward. There must be someone who is willing to talk.

That is when he notices you, in a corner chair, sipping on juice, zoning out. You do not seem happy to be here, at least you two have that in common? He has seen you in varies school activities before. Although you are in a different class of hero course, Tamaki recalls you being quite strong.

“Amajiki? What brings you here? I never saw you at any social event before.”

You talked to him, that is a good start. That means he do not have to imitate any conversation. “Mirio brought me here, he said this is part of being a hero.”

When your eyes widen with surprise, Tamaki started to panic. What-what did he do wrong? Is it because he was staring at the ground all the time? Or is it because he stuttered? Oh wait he did not even stutter, that is a first. Or is he just being a nuisance? Readying himself to apologize and leave, Tamaki is prepared to go bury himself under blankets once he escapes this situation.

What almost startled him to death is how you extended your hand to him, smiling so warmly. “Well, need some help? I imagine Togata wants you to have some other friends.” Setting the juice glass aside, you stood up and stretched. Unknown to Tamaki, you actually had been noticing him for a while. But he always seems so timid, as if he would faint any moment. You never imagined, even in your wildest dreams, that the ravenette would be the one to initiate anything, let it be friendship or otherwise.

Conveniently, a song suited for slow dancing has started to play. “Care to join me in a dance, Amajiki?” How he fervently blushes and tries to look away is so endearing, you could not help but be amused. Keeping your chuckles quiet, you offered him your palm again.

A girl asking him to dance. It was usually Mirio who receives this kind of offers, while Tamaki envies beside. It is not that he WANTS attention desperately, sometimes you just want a bit of admiration to remind your self-worth.

So when the opportunity presents itself, Tamaki knows he got to take it. He had never seen you humiliate anyone before, nor did he hear any rumors about you bullying anyone, so what is the harm in placing a little faith? It is a risk he is willing to take. Just like trying new food for his quirk, no risk no gain.

So he nods, slowly placing his long fingers on top of yours.

Your hands are so warm...have they always been? Such a nice contrast to this freezing room. “Are you cold? Here, you can have my jacket.” (color) cloth wrapped around him tightly, chasing the chilliness away. Tamaki has never...been this close to a girl before (besides Nejire and his family members).

“(y/n)?” “Yes, Amajiki?” You let out a gleeful giggle, placing your hands back into his.

“I-I cannot dance. I got two left feet, I would only step on your toes.” Call me Tamaki, please. That he did not have the courage to say out loud.

“That’s fine! We do not have to. As a matter of fact, I am not a skilled dancer myself. Thank you for sparing me the trouble.” You let out a relived sigh, still holding onto his hand, not that he minds, but Tamaki knows he is going to get more then an earful from Mirio if he saw this.

Strangely, Tamaki do not feel intimidated by the packed room anymore. As if you are a wonderful filter for those awful noises, he cannot hear them if he does not pay full attention.

“Call me Tamaki.” Whispering under his breath, the shy boy gripped your hands a bit tighter. “What was that? Why is your face so red? Are you feeling sick?” Your innocent eyes, like two pools of clear lake in the summer, makes him feel this urge, to jump in and soak himself well.

Clenching his teeth, he almost screamed out the words: “Call me Tamaki please!” Several other of your fellow students turned because the sudden sharp sounds, but you just smiled, waving signaling nothing is off. Leading him to a relatively secluded corner of the room, you noticed how he is trembling. Poor boy, you thought. So nervous about talking to me. “There is nothing to be afraid of. I won’t get mad at anything you say.” You were never a judgemental person; all you want to do seeing him so afraid is wanting to cherish him like the treasure boy he is.

Settling Tamaki on a couch, you sit down beside his shivering form with worries in your eyes. This adjacent room is nearly empty, yet he is still like this...How to fix this?

You are so kind, so warm-hearted, why hasn’t he found you sooner? Now he knows you will never judge him for his stutters or bad questions, Tamaki can finally let loose, to let his true feelings run wild.

Tamaki is drawn to you. This strange new feeling left him feeling both frightened and excited, not sure which is more dominant. When you are near him, he can ignore the rest of the room, even if they are one of the things that scares him the most- strangers.

To be perfectly honest, Tamaki never noticed you before. He hopes you do not take offense since he never really notices anyone besides the professors and his two friends. But he knows you are modest and hardworking from the sport festivals.

So...why can’t he accept you as another friend? Surely these social events would be more bearable with you around. But first.

“Would you like to get out of here? I’ll text Mirio that I am feeling ill.”

“I would love that, Tamaki-san.”

#bnha #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha reader insert #bnha x reader #bnha tamaki #tamaki amakiji #tamaki x reader #bnha tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki x reader #collab project

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inuyashasforest · 4 years

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Someday (I love you in present tense)

I miss you folks! Here’s a little drabble I wanted to share while I work on other things, something short and bittersweet. Hope you enjoy ♥

It’s the last good night before everything goes to hell. Not that they know it at the time. They don’t know sitting around the fire that evening as the sun’s colour drains from the sky, that this is the last night they’ll have with none of the injured, ill, stressed or scared. They’re closing in on Naraku, the threads are all pulling together, but they don’t know that.

Tonight is just a good night.

They’ve set up camp on the banks of a slow river, the water passing in a calm stream, the surface glassy, reflecting starlight and the glow of the fire. They caught fish, and even managed to get some rice and vegetables from the last village they helped – practically a feast. The five of them sit around the fire, bellies full and bodies relaxed from the day’s travelling. Shippo is curled up, asleep on Kirara’s larger form, burrowed into her long fur. Kirara purrs, a soft rumbling, as she snoozes by the fire, every bit as lazy and content as a housecat.

Sango is telling them a story about the first time she rode on Kirara as a young girl, how excited she’d been to finally fly with her family’s guardian. Kirara had been a constant companion and protector since she was a baby, and so young Sango had been entirely comfortable with her – and maybe a little too confident. She hadn’t been more than 8 years old at the time, and had practically jumped onto Kirara’s back, boasting to her father how she would master this on her first try, that of course Kirara would obey her. Kirara had taken it upon herself to put some humility in the overzealous young girl and had proceeded to fly so wildly that Sango was just barely holding on by a fistful of fur. On a harsh flip, Sango’s grip had failed and she’d started falling. Kirara had caught with ease, and gently returned her to the ground, before turning and flicking her tails in the girl’s face just for good measure. It’d been a lesson Sango never forgot.

And as she tells the story to her friends around the fire that night, all of them laughing along and jeering at her, Sango is bright and at ease. She rarely indulges the others in stories from her childhood, memories of her family often still too fresh and painful to recount. But tonight is a good night. So, she does. Kirara cracks an eye open and chuffs, gently flicking one of her tails in Sango’s face just to tease, before letting out a roaring yawn and napping again.

Miroku is staring at her all the while like her laughter alone could put a hault to the rampant wars. He has his arm around her, behaving himself, and she’d leaning comfortably against his side. Across the fire, Inuyasha as leaning back against a tree trunk in his usual cross-legged-arms-folded position, but even he has a relaxed posture. Kagome is sprawled out on her sleeping back, laying on her stomach with her pillow under her chest as she laughs along with Sango.

“I miss that,” Sango says with a content sigh as she snuggles in further against Miroku, who is all too happy to oblige. “Not the falling part, but just… flying with her. Just for the sake of it. On nights like these, we used to fly up to the mountains just to sit on the top and look at the stars. It was always so clear up there.”

“It’s not like there’s anything stopping you,” Inuyasha grunts from across the fire, though there is no noticeable malice in his tone. Even his voice is gentle in the quiet of the night. “Why don’t you just go back? Even just for a night.”

But Sango shakes her head. “No, there’s just been no chance to lately. And with how active the demon presence has been across the land… it’d be more trouble than it’s worth for such a silly little thing.”

“It’s not silly,” Kagome says earnestly. “It obviously means a lot to you.”

Sango offers her a smile. “Someday,” she says. “Someday I’ll go back, but not until our task is completed. Then, I’ll go up to the mountains near the Taijiya Village as often as Kirara and I want, and watch the stars. It’s like no other view in the world up there. On clear nights, you can see all the way to the ocean, and every single star moving across the sky.” Tilting her head back, she beams up at Miroku. “I’d love to take you up there.”

“I’d love nothing more to go with you,” Miroku smiles back, rubbing his hand up and down her forearm. The sky is clear tonight, but there were wisps of clouds floating across the stars, and the trees are tall and full. Beautiful, nonetheless. Miroku’s expression turns pensive. “It won’t be too long now,” he says, speaking aloud what everyone is thinking. One way or another, this will all be over soon, and none of them can predict what will happen, how and if they will all come out. They all know this – but Miroku doesn’t say that. Instead, he holds Sango a little closer. “When it is,” he says, “I would like to return to Mushin’s temple for a while. I will have much to be thankful for, and even more to pray for,” Miroku adds with a light, mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Monk,” Sango nudges him with her elbow.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Miroku surrenders with a laugh. “I wouldn’t want to stay for too long, though. Somehow, I cannot imagine living anywhere but in Kaede’s village.”

Sango’s smile only brightens at that idea, and the implications of it. “Neither can I.”

“That does sound nice,” Kagome sighs happily. She rolls onto her back, stretching her arms over her head and closing her eyes. The soft heat of the fire warms her skin, but the midnight breeze is cool and refreshing. “Once this is all over, I’ll finally have a chance to catch up on my school work. Maybe I’ll still be able to get into a good high school. But I’ll be honest,” she trails off for a moment, opening her eyes to stare up at the sky, “I think I’d just be… bored. After everything I’ve seen and done here, the thought of going back to a normal life just seems dull.”

“It sounds safe,” Inuyasha corrected, casting a glare down at her.

Kagome cracks an upside-down smile at him, reaching up to poke him in the thigh. “Same thing.”

Inuyasha scoffs but doesn’t say another word.

“Well,” Kagome shrugs, folding her arms under her head, long black hair spilling over her pillow, “hopefully, the Bone Eater’s Well will still let me through… I would miss you all too much. I’m not ready to say goodbye just yet.” Ever the optimist, Kagome smiled to herself and watched a cloud drift lazily across the full, bright moon. “But… at least it’ll all be over. The jewel will be whole, and Naraku won’t be able to hurt anyone else. A lot of people will be safe. If nothing else, that’s enough for me.”

“You’ve grown so much since we first started travelling, Lady Kagome,” Miroku says.

Kagome turns her head towards him and flashes a cheeky smile from across the fire. “Why, thank you for noticing,” she nods her head.

Sango lifts her hand to her mouth as she laughs, before looking to their only companion who hadn’t yet shared. “What about you, Inuyasha?” she asks. “What do you look forward to, when this is all over?”

But Inuyasha doesn’t reply. His arms seem to be held a little tighter across his chest, and his gaze into the fire is unwavering. The firelight makes the gold of his eyes glow brighter.

Sango frowns, thinking that he hadn’t heard her. “Inuyasha?”

“It’s late,” Inuyasha cuts her off abruptly. Feigning nonchalance, he stretches his arms behind his back and rises to his feet. His movements are sharp, his voice forced. “We have a long way to go tomorrow. Get some sleep. I’ll take the first watch.” With that, he turns and walks off toward the river bank.

The other three exchange looks – there is no mistaking it, they all know that Inuyasha had avoided the question. Still, he’s already stalked away, and it isn’t worth prodding. So, they gradually turn in for the night, letting the fire burn down as they settle down to rest. Inuyasha is right, they do have a long journey ahead of them, and it is already well into the night. Miroku and Sango end up asleep together, wrapped up loosely in each other’s arms as they recline against Kirara. Kagome, for her part, does drift off after snuggling down into her sleeping bag, perfectly comfortable and sleepy.

But she isn’t asleep for long. Or, at least, it doesn’t feel like long. It seems like she’d only closed her eyes for a second when she opens them to find the fire nothing but a pile of slowing embers. She yawns, turning over and sitting upright. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust in the dark. Miroku and Sango are still sleeping, Kirara and Shippo as well. But Inuyasha is nowhere to be seen.

Not at first, anyway. As Kagome turns toward the river, she sees the outline of him, sitting at the edge of the water, illuminated by the bright moonlight shining off the river like a mirror. Slowly crawling out of her sleeping back, she stands and walks toward him.

He knows she’s approaching, though he makes no acknowledgement. Kagome can see his ears twitching in her direction. Kneeling down beside him, she lays her hand on his back and leans forward to see his face.

“Inuyasha?” she whispers. “Are you…”

She doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to, she already knows the answer. Inuyasha looks back at her, and for the first time she’s ever seen, he looks… unsure of himself. Scared, almost, but that isn’t quite the right word. He looks lost.

That’s all it takes. Kagome understands. This is the look of a boy who never expected to get this far. Who never thought about a future beyond his short term goals, because he’d never figured there was a point. What had once been so clear to him was now… well, nothing close to what he’d thought it’d be. Inuyasha once believed that possessing the Sacred Jewel would solve all of his problems, that all he needed was to be a full blooded demon, and then everything would be okay – but at that time, he’d never actually thought through how that would work. He never thought about what he would do after.

And now that Inuyasha knows that becoming a full demon isn’t what he wants, his singular focus has been destroying Naraku. Everything will be fine after that, surely. But the part that comes after is somehow more unclear now that it’s ever been. Inuyasha doesn’t know how to deal with even the hope of a future he never thought he would have.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move away when Kagome stares back at him, slipping her hand up to cradle his cheek. Maybe it’s just her imagination, but she can almost feel him lean into her palm.

Kagome does not say a word. She crawls into his lap, sitting between his legs and leaning back against his shoulder. Gently taking his arms, she guides them around her waist, and holds them there, holding her hands on top of his.

They really are an odd pair, Kagome things as her eyes shut. A girl who didn’t belong in the past, and a boy who didn’t have a future. Maybe that was why the present meant so much to her. Whatever happened next, they had right now. They had this moment, this night. If they held onto that, maybe the future wouldn’t have to be so daunting.

Eventually, Kagome feels her body grow heavy, falling asleep safe and content in Inuyasha’s arms. And, it may just be her imagination, but she can swear she feels Inuyasha press his lips against her head just moments before she drifts off.

#inuyasha #inukag #mirsan #inuyasha fanfic #Kagome Higurashi #sango #miroku

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crossroadsfossil · 4 years

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aaaaaa on the topic of your quirk-related illnesses post: do you have any headcanons about disability in bnha’s setting (quirk-related or otherwise)? and i guess by extension: should quirklessness be classified as a disability?

Fuck it- world building prompts. Send a fandom and a prompt. ILLNESS CONTINUATION

So, before we get into BNHA and Disability, I will note that I have next to no knowledge of how disability is view/treated legally or socially in Japan, which is the view we’re given. All I know is what I’ve gleaned from pop culture and one pair of youtubers (Simon and Martina). I’m making an assumption that Japan and the USA have similar ideas regarding disability, and those ‘ideas’ are, at best, lacking in empathy and sympathy and mostly lip service.

Additionally, I will be using the term ‘disabled’ as it’s laid out by the ADA, as that’s what I’m most familiar with. Disability is defined as “a person who has a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activity.”

NOW, as for BNHA universe-

I think having a disability in this universe would be like being disabled in reality. It would suck. If you’re very lucky, you have a support network that can assist you. If you’re moderately lucky, the government pays lip service to assist you. In all cases, I’m pretty convinced that society sees the disabled as either something they did to themselves, or an inconvenience or something to be pitied at best and hated at worst.

I think the potential in the BNHA universe to become partially or completely disabled is much, much higher. There’s statistically a higher chance of being disabled through violent means- Hero or villain inflicted injuries. I think quirk lashback would increase the likelihood of becoming disabled.

Fuck, we’ve seen how the BNHA universe treats the disabled, and it’s not good. One of the characters with the largest presence who is also disabled is Jin Bubaigawara and, well. He was killed. He fell into villainy. He had no. Goddamn. Support. And that is common in the real world so I doubt it’s any less common in this one.

There are others who are visually disabled. There’s Ectoplasm, who’s missing his legs. There’s Ingenium, who’s paralyzed. There’s FUCKING ALL MIGHT. I don’t know how well Etoplasm and Ingenium are treated. I don’t know how All Might is treated, but from what I remember of the whole post-skinny might reveal, it’s not great either.

All Might does what a lot of people with disabilities do, myself included. He hides it. Clearly, there is a stigma attached to being crippled. There is a stigma to being less than 100%. There is a Stigma for not being ‘plus ultra’ enough.

I wish I had some fun headcanons for disabilities in the BNHA universe. I wish I could whip up some delightful headcanons about how it’s better than it is in the real world, how there are funny, quirky things like I could with the illness post and having the Pepper Up Cough. I wish my headcanons about this could be fun and more headcanons and less applying what I know and have experienced to this universe. I wish I could. But I can’t.

I think being disabled in BNHA is just as bad, if not worse than in the real world. We’ve seen the cruelty related to quirks. We’ve seen the apathy of the general public. We’ve seen a lot of that society and not a lot of it is good.

Here is my headcanon: I think if you are perceived as being less than healthy, you are seen as weak. A victim at best and a deserving villain at worst. I think the support for disabled people is nonexistent, no matter how minor or severe the disability. I think it’s the same vultures, different liver kind of situation with BNHA as it is with RL.

I think there are more people with disabilities than there are in RL. I think more people hide having a disability too. I think getting a doctor to diagnose a disability would be harder than it is in RL, and gods knows that’s hard enough. I think discrimination based on disability would be more prevalent.

I think there were be types of quirks that would almost guarantee a future disability. I think it’s brought up in a lot of fic discussing Present Mic and Bakugou and Jirou- their deafness or the deafness of those around them. I think it’d affect characters like Midnight- who would probably end up with a chronic lung issue unless her body is adapted to breathing it in all the time. I think Aizawa is going to have eye issues eventually, probably even going blind at some point. I think Nedzu, being a rat in a human world, would be considered disabled simply because the world is not built for him. I think Cementoss would have mobility issues as he ages. Fatgum and Momo probably will have issues regarding how fast they burn fat/nutrients. It’ll probably manifest in their hearts.

I think a lot of people end up with a disability brought on by their quirk. The human body is an amazing thing, but it has limits and I don’t think those limits play well with time- or another way to say this, I think people are more likely to burn out faster than we are. I think it’s going to be more like an animalistic ‘live hard, die young’ sort of thing.

I also think it’ll be entirely glossed over by the populace at large. People are very good at ignoring things, and a growing number of disabilities would probably fall under ‘things to absolutely ignore’.

I could ramble more, but I want to get to the next part of your question:

Should quirklessness be classified as a disability

I read that and, hoo boy, it triggered an immediate bout of snarling until I could analyze why it pissed me off.

Let’s return to the definition I gave at the beginning of my answer. A disability is anything that interferes with a person’s ability to do one major activity. In canon, what do we know of being without a quirk?

It’s said that 20% of the world is without a quirk. Is this accurate? Is this reflective of each new generation? We’re not given information on this. I’ve read plenty of fic that have explored the validity of these given statements, pointing out that they don’t seem to agree with what we’re shown in canon. I’ve read fic where it’s stating this is gross oversimplification, or a skewing of the actual data, which I’m a bit of a fan of being numbers like that are never accurate. One in five people have no quirk? Really? Then why was there no other quirkless kids in Izuku’s school? Does affluence play a factor in this? We’re just... not given a lot of detail, and the details we are given are not pretty.

The details are this: being quirkless has hindered Izuku Midoriya socially, and, if we want to extrapolate from there, it has probably hindered him educationally and professionally as well. Melissa Sheild has been hindered by being quirkless. Not to the same extent as Izuku, but she is, according to the wiki, ‘ she used to be seen with pity for being Quirkless’. To me, this sounds like people have... hm. how to say... ‘tried to protect her’ for her ‘weakness’.

Basically, looking at these two individuals, it sounds like society takes away their agency, and if that doesn’t ‘hinder one major aspect of an individuals life’ then I don’t know what does.

ALso, look at those who BECAME quirkless. Does it hinder them? Are Mirio and Ragdoll hindered? Yes.

So, following the rules I set out, yes, being quirkless does count as a disability. Legally, would it count here? I don’t know. If someone fought for it, then I can see some countries classifying it as such. It’s certainly treated as a disability in canon. There is a stigma to being quirkless.

Do I personally want being quirkless to be a disability?

No. But I am hella biased because I AM disabled. I see Melissa out there living and doing things I would love to do. That I would love to do. Notice I didn’t include Izuku. That’s because I see him having some comorbidities, which, kind of annihilates my knee-jerk reaction, doesn’t it? If he wasn’t quirkless, he probably wouldn’t have the comorbidities. Since he does and they also impair his functioning, then... I think it can be logic’d that he does have a disability. Multple, perhaps.

Again, my logic may not be super solid there, but... According to the rules set out via ADA and medical professionals, yes. In that new society, it would be a disability.

I hate it, but in that universe, the baseline for ‘100% normal’ has shifted, just as it’s shifted over the past hundred, three hundred, thousand, six thousand years. That line is always shifting as humanity grows and changes. Hopefully, that baseline begins to include empathy and sympathy and compassion into it.

#BNHA Worldbuilding Ask #BNHA #Worldbuilding asks #tldr: ANGRY AMY RANTING #chidorinnnnn #Mailbox #I have no idea where I was going with this #not funny headcanons #or funny in a horrifying way #just horrifying and depressed realization i think

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yuvon-writes-letters · 3 years

Note

[The letter here seems to be written in a really known writing; it seems it could've been beautifully written with ink...If the ink wouldn't have been some kind of shimmering brown and the writing shaky. So unknown]

I am sorry for the time I let you wait, Yuvon and your Jake, Rainer and now Skie, dear idi Duskwood Stalker. Jessy. I belive and apology is also needed towards Liska, your [the next word is weirdly crossed out, seemingly unable for anyone to read except for the Detective Inc. A red shimmer is over the word] love Jake and Max.

I just need to inform you of one thing, then you'll be hopefully left alone.

[The writing changes, it seems to become sharper and while reading you believe to hear someone laughing] As you wish.

[It changes again, shakier but definitely a bit less brown] The little girl and her cousin are alright. You maybe have to give her some time to read the letters, though. They did not answer because their world stopped. It was necessary.

~ 🕊

[Directly under the writing the familiar writing of Liska appears, but it seems to be more like the word association writing than normal] Don't make me repeat myself aMiro.

[With some space to the last letter Liskas writing becomes normal and as familiar as ever, just for the first sentence a silver shimmer seems to be on them; when you look a second time it disappeared] I hope you are well...

And as it seems I am sorry for my...Yeah, what, disappereance? I mean, I think it was not really my fault, but it is still weird. I still try to organise my thoughts.

Hello Skie, it is nice to meet you and I really hope Rai is doing better. We all had to suffee enough already...

Same goes for you, Yuvon. I know many things happened in my, or our, absence. I just need some time to wrap my head around it. Maybe I'll need some time till I am fully able to take older letters in accountant when I wrote you. Nevertheless, I just have to let one thing go, black ink, you're a bitch. [Here are many uneven dots, it seems Liska tapped with her pen on the paper without writing anything]

I don't believe I have any more to say FOR NOW. I need some time, but that will hopefully only last until your last letter. Damn, Max seems to be eager to write something, too [Lis' drew one of her known little faces, an annoyed one]

I am sorry for all the time we left you alone, I really am...And I hope you still welcome the Shimmer-Universe back. (Get it? Glowing because of Goldie?)

~ Liska🔥🐾

Ps. Welcome, dear Stalker. I am intrigued to get to know you.

[The writing changes again, this time to Max']

Hello guys. I don't really know what my dear cousin is talking about...As far as I know we didn't even get new letters from you guys. Just whatever is written on top of this page. What happened though, we got up and the fox seemed to have some kind of total personality change.

Honestly.

She is still my loving and caring cousin, but she seems...More active. Her state got better over night and yes, I am glad about that, but it is just weird. I believe even her Jake realised that. Weirdly enough he contacted me about it first, while she was writing the letter.

Oh and by the way, were you able to read what was written in this weird brown ink? Was that Liskas golden friend? I am just confused by now.

But back to the personality, also she seems more confident. I don't believe her confidence ever went this high.

But I think I'll give this letter to our her oh fuck it our Jake. Liska did write his name blue, right?

~ Max

[The last bit of the letter, a screenshot glued to the back]

From what Liska talked about I also want to greet you all again and reintroduce myself for the new 'players'; Hello, I am, as I believe you already figured out, Jake. To be exact Jake of Liskas universe.

It seems that we all have been in some kind of stasis which is the reason some of you might not know anyone of the three of us.

I hope you look over that fact and apologise that I am not going to recap anything, since that would take far too much of our time.

As well as the others I hope you are doing okay, like Max I have no idea of what happened since I did not get any new letters either, but from what I could gather while talking to Liska this early morning some things happened and she knows. Or at least know things of it which she doesn't seem to be able to sort out.

Because of this I also apologise for the shortness of my message, but I don't seem to be much help for now.

~ Jake

{I, Liskas author, also wants to apologise. I've not doing so well and it took me some time to gain my creative motivation again. I put that into another account so I could gain motivation and get over my creative block. It worked as it seems. As Liska said I will probably take some time to get used to the things I missed, but I promise I'll try :) I am currently ill and on vacation, next week school starts again [11th grade in Germany, my penultimate year of school O-O]. But that won't make me let those letters rest again.

Once more, I deeply apologise and hope my re-entering didn't confuse too much🥺😅I have many things to re-read and re-think. For example Liskas real name. I forgot xD}

Okay wow this is a lot. I'm gonna go one person at a time.

Goldie,

Um. This is a stupid question, but are you... alright? You seem worn down. This is a very bad time to be worn down, I think.

...Nevermind. Looking at that red text, I think I can guess at least some of what's going on.

That sounds, uh, severe. Stopping the world, I mean. Like, worse than Flower severe.

Who the hell is aMiro? I mean, it's probably an anagram, given the location of the capital letter, but I suck at anagrams, so...

Lis,

There's a letter in your pile, maybe has some dirt on it, DON'T OPEN IT, IT'S TRAPPED.

Yeah, I'm... well as I can be. Given circumstances. Sick with worry about anything and everything, but at least one less thing now.

Glad you're back, and don't worry. I get it. Weird paranormal events make it a bit difficult to write letters sometimes, as I'm sure we all know VERY well by now.

We're nicknaming my entity Black Ink now? Sure, that works. Better than "The Entity" this, "the entity" that, blah blah blah.

There's, uh, quite a bit to catch up on, I think. Have fun! Or something.

Max,

A personality change...? Hmm. Weird. Keep an eye on it. So long as she's just happier and more confident, I think we can call it mostly harmless.

Yes, that was Goldie. Don't worry too much about what they said, they just put some things into perspective for me.

...Like I said. Keep an eye on it.

Jake,

Good to have you back :)

I'm afraid I don't have much to say at the moment, and my Jake's off messing with the knife glade, trying to find any more secrets we might have missed the past million times, so I believe I'll end this letter here. I'm sure my Jake'll be happy to chat with you by the next time you pop in, though.

See ya, all!

—Yuvon

(The letter tucks itself in the paper clip with the others.)

#duskwood letter game #yuvon writes letters #duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #lis's entity #red ink #lis #max #lis's jake

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