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mommy-medusa · 1 year

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Athena’s Wings

So, in Medusa’s Child, Athena has wings now! And I think they’re neat, so I’m gonna talk about them!

Athena was born with a pair of sterling owl wings, and throughout her life, she gains more through accomplishments she achieves as a goddess. Before the book starts, she has twenty pairs, each representing something she did (aside from the first ones). She gets a few more throughout the story for various things, but she has twenty at the start. The way she got them are as followed:

Being born

Killing Pallas (this is damaging to her psyche as much as you think it is)

Becoming the patron of Athens

Making the first olive tree

Domesticating horses

Inventing the plow

Inventing the rake

Inventing the bridle

Inventing the yoke

Inventing the chariot

Designing the first ship

Beating Arachne in the weaving contest

Turning Arachne into a spider

Blinding Tiresias

And then 15-20 are just for various goddess shenanigans like fighting in wars and aiding some mortals.

Unfortunately, Athena loathes her wings.

For one, she sees them as a sign of hubris. That she’s flaunting her victories. And that doesn’t really sit right with her, as she feels no need to show off.

For two, they are a teensy tiny itty bitty bit excruciatingly painful.

Her wings are meant to be out and free, but instead, she keeps them hidden inside her back. This causes an extreme strain on her entire body, and she says that she can constantly feel them “writhing” beneath her skin, “yearning for an escape.”

And even when she does have them out, she still isn’t free from discomfort. Due to the amount of wings she has (remember, there’s forty of them), there isn’t much space available for all of them to be out at once. She isn’t a very big goddess, after all, and even if she was, the back only has so much skin. As a result, the wings grow over each other, fighting for room, and her flesh gets ripped to shreds. It’s a pretty (read as: extremely) bloody sight.

Her wings are also embedded with several grey eyeballs (think of biblically accurate angels). In my book, this is we’re she gets the epithet Grey-Eyed Athena (because she herself has grey-blue eyes). She CAN see out of all of these eyes, but she chooses not to, as it gives her a headache.

Her primary wings are thirty feet long, and all the rest span from fifteen to twenty-five feet. They all get smaller when they’re folded on her back and only grow to their full size when extended. This keeps her from falling over backward from the weight of them.

The only wings she doesn’t hate are the little wings she has on her head, which aren’t painful or straining or annoying.

And now, beneath the cut, for your viewing pleasure, the actual scene where her wings first appear! Enjoy!

“I didn’t know you had wings.”

The topic was meant to distract Athena from her distress, but it seemed to do the exact opposite, as Athena visibly grimaced at Medusa’s words. Her wings, sprawled limp at her sides, flinched and drew in closer to her back, as though ashamed of themselves.

“Yes,” Athena said softly. “These are my original pair. The ones I had when I was born.”

“Oh? You have more than one?”

“I have many.”

She sounded so tired when she said that. So spiteful toward her own form.

Medusa dipped the moss into the salt water, then gently dabbed at the burn on the left one. Athena jerked away, a ripple of pain causing the entire wing to shudder. When it did, Medusa swore she caught a glimpse of some strange movement from beneath the plumage.

With curious claws, Medusa began pushing back some of the silver feathers. At this, Athena let out a hissing breath and said, “I would not do that if I were you…”

She made no effort to stop Medusa, however, and, too driven by her intrigue, Medusa continued, brushing through feathers until she saw it.

An eye.

A grey eye.

The eyeball revolved around to stare directly at her, and Medusa found herself pulling away instinctively with a small gasp of fright.

Athena sighed heavily. “My apologies.”

“You have…an eye in your wing,” Medusa said as if Athena didn’t already know this.

“Indeed.” Athena raised both wings, and all her feathers stood on end, revealing the array of bright grey eyes underneath. Medusa’s own wings suddenly felt very itchy.

Athena lowered her wings, and her plumage smoothed out. She looked bitter. “Not very inviting, hm?”

“Can you see out of them?” Medusa asked. “The eyes?”

“Technically, yes,” Athena answered. “But I try not to. It is headache-inducing, seeing so many things at once.” Then, sourly, she added, “I don’t like having them out. They’re nuisances. I would cut them off if they didn’t grow back like the heads of a Hydra.”

“You say that like you know that will happen.”

Athena gave her a look.

“Oh.”

There was a small snort from Athena.

Medusa extended a hand and gently stroked one of the wings. It fluttered under her claws.

“Well, I think they’re beautiful,” she said. And then, before Athena could counter her with some self-loathing comment, she went on, “You said you have more?”

“Many more,” Athena nodded. “I am ‘awarded’ with new wings with every accomplishment I achieve as a goddess. They’re a sort of prize, if you will. But if you ask me, they’re just feathery forms of hubris. I have no reason to flaunt my deeds. And yet, the universe seems to want me to.”

“So that is why they call you Grey-Eyed Athena,” Medusa hummed.

That actually got a laugh out of Athena. “Indeed,” she said. “I used to—” Another light laugh. A finger scratched at one of her head-wings sheepishly. “I used to appear before mortals, when they would summon me, with my wings spread out, many eyes aglow and wide open. All mystical and majestic. It got a real kick out of worshippers.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“It lost its appeal after a while. It stopped making me happy, I suppose. It was all just an act. The strain certainly didn’t help, either.”

“Strain?”

Athena heaved a great sigh, and one of her wings twitched. “Having my wings out at all is a constant struggle. These,” she gestured vaguely, “are alright, as they are my original pair, but the others… They’re painful. Terribly so. The more I have out at once, the more friction they create on my body, and it feels as though my skin is being scraped off, piece by piece. My back is usually torn apart by the time only five pairs have emerged.”

Wincing lightly, Medusa couldn’t help but ask, “How many do you have?”

Athena blinked, slightly dazed, then looked up at the dark sky as though she were trying to remember. After a moment, she answered, “Twenty pairs, I believe.”

Now Medusa grimaced fully. Forty wings. Her own two wings were annoying enough at times, but forty? A sympathetic twinge of pain went through her back.

“Wow,” Medusa breathed out.

Athena gave a humorless, bitter laugh. “Indeed.”

“And you said they hurt you?” Medusa pressed.

Athena’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Yes,” she said. “They do. They are not meant to be concealed in a prison of flesh. They are meant to be out and free. But I don’t care. I loathe these mutations. And so, they wrath against me. Even as we speak now, I can feel them writhing beneath my skin, yearning for an escape. The feathers itch so vehemently against my muscles, pressing mercilessly on my bones. It’s a pain.” She lifted her head to Medusa, and her eyes looked so exhausted. “For me, it’s always like this.”

Medusa frowned. “It must get tiring, all that—”

“It does. It does get tiring,” Athena whispered. “But I don’t have any choice. I never did, and I never will.”

Medusa reached down to squeeze one of Athena’s hands tightly. “I’m so sorry, Athena.”

“Don’t be,” Athena said. “You have nothing to apologize for, trust me on that.”

For some time, the two of them sat in silence, Athena staring at the ground with a hollow expression and Medusa tending to her burn.

And then, “Sometimes I get some bad cramps in my wings.”

Athena laughed. One of her head-wings swept around her face to muffle the sound, but Medusa heard it clearly. It was like a chiming bell in a great, black void.

#this poor girl just can’t catch a break #she’s more tortured than the literal main character of the book lmao #anyway! i love this new idea for her so much #I think it’s fun!#medusa’s child #greek myth #greek mythology #greek gods #greek myth retellings #athena #gods and goddesses #ancient greek mythology #medusa #ancient greek #my writing #book snippets #book lore

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scattered-irises · 3 months

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Hello!!!

Chapter 2 of OOParts Iron Maiden and the Dreamy Prince is quite tame and wholesome so I have decided to post it here as well. It can be read independently of the previous chapters. Chapter 3 is even more wholesome, actually.

You can read just those two chapters and pretend this is a fairytale about Prince Michael and his beautiful wedding with Prince Yuma Tsukumo :)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2083

Characters: Michael Arclight, Mirai Tsukumo, Akari Tsukumo, Yuma Tsukumo (mentioned)

Pairing: Michael Arclight/Yuma Tsukumo

Warnings: Itty bitty mention of cannibalism

Summary: Michael arrives at the Kingdom of Astral and is warmly welcomed by his new family. No, really! DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!

“Announcing Young Lord Michael of the Kingdom of Barian!” declared the herald.

Michael stepped out of the carriage, his legs shaky from the long journey. A trumpet fanfare further accentuated his arrival and his ears rang from their sharp notes. A crimson carpet stretched before him, lined with countless courtiers. His heart soared at their glittering costumes and bright faces. Seldom had he seen this many people back home. And the colors! Such a feast for the eyes. Hair the color of silver, gold, green and blue…Clothes made of velvet, silk and fur! If he hadn’t been so tired, he would have run down the carpet reveling in the beauty of his new home.

With his blood loudly rushing through his ears, he took his first step towards the castle. Castle Hope towered above him, its white brick walls a promise of safety. Its windows depicted ancient battles and the Astran gods, great sword-wings outstretched with rays of light. The whispers of the courtiers were drowned out by his own thoughts as he briefly patted his pockets. Yuma’s letters to him had promised lovely balls and scrumptious feasts devoid of any human flesh. On lonely nights, he read through his betrothed’s letters over and over again.

When his pockets rustled with the letters, Michael let out a sigh of relief. A loving mother to hold him. A caring father to dispense advice and clap him on the shoulder. Days spent hunting and dancing, just like the nobles he had read about in his novels. He had fantasized so much about this fateful day that it almost felt like a dream itself as he walked down the carpet.

He beamed as the courtiers’ whispers began to overpower his thoughts.

“Such pale skin!”

“Such lovely eyes!”

“What a kind face!”

He gazed at some of their faces. Unlike the gloomy courtiers of Barian, the Astran nobles appeared well-fed and content with their lives. Meeting the eyes of a young woman, she opened her arms in celebration, chubby cheeks pink with joy.

“Welcome, young lord!” she cried.

He waved to her and continued to walk with a slight spring in his step. Although the novels he had read warned of cruel courts and plotting courtiers, the celebratory nature of his arrival seemed to belay all of those stories. Fireworks boomed overhead, lighting the skies with greens and reds. They competed with the courtiers’ cheers and the trumpets. How could such dark things exist in a place filled with so much light?

Arriving at the top of the stairs, he entered the throne room. Another throng of courtiers greeted him, their cheers echoing up the high walls. Flowers and elegant tapestries decorated the white brick and flower petals were thrown from the eaves. He searched the room for Yuma but couldn’t find him. Michael’s smile wavered. His betrothed’s miniature had depicted a young man with bright red eyes and dark hair. By the throne, all he saw was a woman with auburn hair and another woman with maroon hair. From the family resemblance, it must have been Yuma’s mother and sister.

Standing before them, Michael removed his hat and bowed.

“Come here,” said Queen Mirai as she beckoned towards Michael.

Hesitantly, he took a few steps towards the beautiful woman. She possessed Yuma’s wide red eyes. Her pale skin was accentuated by her sunset orange dress, her arms bedecked with jewels. In the bright light, she appeared like an angel. As he approached her, she cupped Michael’s face in her gloved hands, love radiating from her gentle expression.

“You look even more handsome than your portrait,” she breathed. “How lovely…!”

Her breath smelled like honey and tickled Michael’s nose. He marveled at how soft her hands were. Was this how a mother’s touch was supposed to be? He almost cried at the thought.

The queen scanned the room, concern knitting her brow.

“Did you come all alone?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Michael meekly nodded, his eyes turned to the floor.

“My family was quite busy, you see,” he mumbled.

“Oh, no, no! I meant retainers, servants…”

Michael shook his head. The pity on Mirai’s expression multiplied and she pulled him into an embrace. She stroked Michael’s back as he let out a squeak of surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him like that. Her warmth enveloped him like a pair of wings, her heavy perfume overwhelming his senses.

His own mother was a haunted ghost in the rare portraits he had seen of her. Her magenta eyes were sunken in and her lips were pulled into a thin line. Long fingers were bunched into her skirts and she never looked directly at the viewer. Sometimes, she appeared more like a long-limbed bird than an actual woman.

“You poor, poor child…!” exclaimed Mirai, taking Michael out of his memories.

She pulled away and traced Michael’s jaw with her thumb.

“I will assign you my best servants to have you prepare for the wedding. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call upon Princess Akari or me! You are family now,” promised Mirai.

Tears sprung into Michael’s eyes as Mirai’s warmth left him. So this was what it meant to be held and wanted. His lips trembled as he was led away by guards. He gave Mirai and Akari one final look. The queen beamed while Akari gave him a friendly wave. Michael’s heart ached, as if it were fit to burst.

Family…the word tasted like sweetest candy to him.

As he walked down the richly decorated halls of Castle Hope, a lightheadedness began to fill his body. Everything was so orderly and well-kept. It felt like he was walking through a beautiful dream. How sad it would be, if he were to wake up again in his cold and drafty bedroom back home! Of course, he would have his brothers and father again, but they were only there in person, not in mind. There was no one to hold hands with, nor anyone to talk to back home.

He squeezed his eyes shut and then discreetly pinched himself. Then he opened his eyes. The Castle Hope’s plush carpets continued to stretch down the hall. A cool breeze blew through the open windows. He looked at the guards, marveling at their shiny white armor and friendly faces. The sparse guards at home wore armor as black as night, their faces obscured by helmets shaped like demon heads. Everything seemed brighter here, even the night sky. The twinkling stars seemed to whisper beautiful promises of lovely balls and cool summer nights.

“This place is more beautiful than in the letters Lord Tsukumo wrote to me…!” gushed Michael.

“Wait until you see the garden!” added the guard beside him.

“Are the flowers truly as colorful as they say?” asked Michael excitedly.

He met the guard’s bright blue eyes, crinkled with a smile.

“That and more,” he said.

When they arrived at his bedroom, Michael’s eyes filled with delight. The walls were painted a dark red. Decorative swords and shields hung from the walls. Curtains billowed in the summer breeze. His feet sunk into a soft carpet. He ran to his bed, sinking his hands into the soft surface.

“It’s like a cloud…!” he marveled.

The servants gathered by the door at the other side of the room giggled. Like the guards, they were dressed in white. He turned to them and returned their smiles.

“Truly…! It is! Come and feel it! I’ve never felt anything like this!” he insisted.

“We know, your grace. We prepare it every morning,” chuckled the head servant.

Michael stiffened, running his eyes down the kindly woman’s wizened face.

“Oh…! Well, then! I suppose you do know. Er…”

The head servant gently pointed him to the bath.

“It’s all ready for you. We’ll prepare your wedding garb while you bathe. Please take your time,” she said.

Michael’s aching muscles let out a silent thanks as he eagerly bounded into the bathroom. The large clawed tub awaited him with a steaming bath. He quickly took off his traveling clothes and hopped in, sighing at the blessedly warm water.

Two days and three nights of traveling through the countryside. The roads were bumpy and the woods were devoid of sound in his kingdom. Nights were dark and lonely, the heavy foliage of the Barian Woods blocking out the stars. Once the leaves began to turn from orange to green and the smell of citrus filled the paths, he could tell that he had left his homeland. Quaint villages, blue skies with fluffy clouds and meadows filled with wildflowers greeted him. Before he arrived at the castle, his carriage had ridden across the shores of the Astran sea. He had pressed his face against the glass, enamored by the blue waters.

Barian’s sea had always been an angry red, the only things swimming through those waters gnarled and poisoned. When he saw the merry sails of ships dotted across the Astran sea, he imagined him and Yuma bobbing along the waves. They would watch the sun set, as Yuma loved to do. As they feasted on fish and marveled at the stars, Michael would fall asleep in Yuma’s arms.

Seldom did he leave his castle back in Barian. It appeared that the villagers despised his family for their abnormal traditions, throwing filth at their carriages whenever they made an outing. Instead, he made friends with the characters in his novels and gazed out at the horizon, wishing that he was there.

Now he was and it felt like a fairytale.

Scooping a handful of bubbles into his hands, he playfully blew them out the window. They lazily floated about until they popped, sprinkling the skies with citrus-scented droplets. He leaned his head back, wondering what his family was doing now. Were they even thinking of him?

Thomas seemed the saddest of them all. Right now, he must have been eating dinner with his odd creations. Christopher meanwhile was always difficult to tell, as he was a man of little words. Perhaps he was eating his corpses with less gusto than usual. And his father…locked up with his experiments most likely.

He’ll tuck his family members away and start a new life, Michael resolved. They’ll always be dear to him in their odd little ways, but he had a new family now. One that would readily embrace him and show him their love. A family like from the stories he had read, his only true window to the outside world.

Getting out of the bath, Michael toweled himself down and donned a loose shift. He hurried out into his bedroom. His eyes filled with delight upon seeing the white outfit that awaited him. Bedecked with jewels, lace and gold, it was the finest thing he had ever seen.

“Why, it’s marvelous!” he gasped, rushing over. “Is it truly for me?”

The servants laughed.

“Yes! Young Lord Tsukumo deserves nothing but the finest!”

Eagerly, the servants helped Michael into his clothes. As he was dressed, his mind drifted into his brilliant future filled with scintillating balls and starry nights. Finally, he would be a part of the real world.

The servants placed a wreath of flowers in his hair, the familiar Barian roses stark-red against his white clothes. He gently petted their velvet petals and let out a soft sigh.

“Do you miss your homeland?” asked a servant with a freckled nose.

Michael looked at his earnest expression, from his soft brown eyes to gentle smile.

“There will always be an ache, but it will fade over time,” he replied.

The servant chuckled.

“There will be many things to do here at Castle Hope. We hope it will bring you many years of joy.”

Michael beamed and looked at himself in the mirror. He had become a prince with his finely-tailored jacket and polished shoes. Lace spilled from his sleeves and gold embroidery decorated the white cuffs. Pinning a red jewel to his jabot, the servant pulled away with a flourish.

“Young Lord Tsukumo will be delighted to see you!” said the head servant.

Michael twirled, marveling at how light the clothes felt. In the mirror, his eyes sparkled and his cheeks were pink from excitement.

“He’s all I’ve been thinking about!” exclaimed Michael to a chorus of laughter.

With one last look at his reflection, he then turned to the servants.

“Thank you! For everything!”

The fairytale had just begun.

Next chapter>>

#zexal #michael arclight #aztecshipping #writing from iris #Happy 3/3 :)

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link-sans-specs · 3 years

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GMM2069

International Egg Dishes Taste Test

#gmm #gmm 2069 #link neal #link avec specs #ocean blues #a full range of blues today 💙#blessed by the close up cam #new haircut #itty bitty silver wings #he is stunning #what a smile #cute little grin #gosh the way he looks up at rhett 🥺#blue-tiful boy #sigh 🥰#my edit

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1engele · 3 years

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daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 3. frogger

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[warnings: cursing, smoking, light violence, blood]

"i don't want to be friends. i want all of you."

—

"Can I get your number?"

You and Larry both whip around to face Sal, the person who'd spoken that sentence. You're stood at the foot of Addison's Apartments.

"What?" You blink. "Me? My what?"

You assume Sal mirrors your nonplussed expression because he bats his eyes just as startled as you did. "Uh- your phone number. So we can be in touch easier. You know, for school and stuff."

Eager anxiousness in the form of butterflies batted their wings in your gut and your ribs. You reached into your back pocket, flipped your flip-phone open, and handed it toward the blue-haired boy. "Here," you blurted. "Put it in there." You gloss your eyes toward Larry. For some apparent reason, he's wearing a wide, shit-eating grin.

"You can put yours in too if you want."

He waves a tan hand. Your attention is on Larry, but it somehow drifts and you're glancing toward Sal. His veiny hands are jerking which each movement of his thumbs as he presses numbers on the keypad.

"No, that's okay," Larry replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'll get it off of Sal."

"Here," Sal holds the flip phone out to you. It's small in his hand.

He has long fingers, you thought.

"Oh, thanks." Your fingers brush his as you reclaim your phone and return it to it's place in your back pocket.

Your heart is beating unnecessarily loud by the time they've walked you to your apartment. Your hands are in your coat pockets to conceal the mild trembling in your hands. You're almost nervous that they can hear the rushing of your blood as your heart rapidly pumps it through your body—because you know you certainly can.

"I had fun today," you smiled, your expression nothing but sincerity. "Thanks for everything. I appreciate it."

Larry grins. "That's cute. No need to thank us, alright?"

You twitch the corner of your lips upward and nod towards him.

Sal tucks a strand of blue hair behind his ear—you'll never get used to the color. In a good way. You could look at it for hours—and fiddles with his backpack strap. "See you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," you respond, your teeth making an appearance. "Goodnight, you guys."

With that, you're inside of your apartment and shutting the door behind you. You hear their muffled voices and unintelligible words through the wall as they retreat from your door and towards the elevator.

You drop your bag at the door and make haste to your room. You sit on the side of your bed and hurriedly open your phone.

The first phone number you'd ever had—save your mother, which doesn't count— was "c you tomorrow :)", sitting right beneath "Mom" on the contact list. After changing his name to "Sal :)" you breathed out shakily, and slowly pushed enter on his contact.

Should you send him something? Isn't that a bit weird? You'd just seen him a few minutes ago. Should you wait a little longer? What if he's still with Larry, and they see what you'd sent a message so quickly and make fun of you?

You shake your head. That was unlikely. All they'd been was great to you.

"c you tmrw."

You inwardly linger over the thought of pressing the send button.

Why the fuck were you so nervous, anyway? Because a boy with nice hands and a pretty laugh said he'd see you tomorrow?

Yeah.. okay, maybe that was it.

"c you tmrw." The message was sent.

You slapped a hand over your face. Should you have said something else? Should you just have not texted him at all? You fell back into the mattress, draping your arm over your face and blinking into your wrist. The feeling of exhilarated dread churned in your gut.

A subtle vibration reverberated on the comforter. It buzzed in your ears momentarily. You paused, before lurching upward and snatching the phone back into your grasp.

"you too. let's try not to rouse mrs. packerton's suspicions tomorrow like we did today lol."

You grinned, and replied before you could stop yourself. "might not be possible. you may need to answer another math question for me."

Sal replied after a pause. "can't say no to that. goodnight, y/n"

You breathed out slowly, typed out a goodnight message, and slowly dropped your hands back down to the comforter.

Your fingers shook and your heart was beating itself against your rib cage. Not long after, you dozed off into sleep thinking of the way your body felt when the warmth of his palm was flush against the nape of your neck.

Getting up the next day is a bit harder than getting up the previous one. You couldn't seem to rub the sleep away from your eyes, and, for some reason or another—you'd waken up in a cold sweat, and your sheets stuck to your body. Not only that, when you'd went to shower, the water was freezing, for no apparent reason. You'd come to terms with the fact that this building had multiple personalities.

Standing beneath the shower head felt like being pricked with itty-bitty pitchforks. Topped with miniature ice cubes.

You'd gotten dressed in an oversized black sweater (over a long-sleeved, black top for added warmth), along with an a-lined plaid emerald green and blue skirt on top of your sheer black tights. The skirt was not short—not amongst your standards, it was mid-thigh—but nowadays teachers were weird about how girls dressed so you'd have to keep an eye out about that.

Also, surprisingly—instead of the usual beat up and raggedy sneakers you usually wore you decided on some of your chunky Mary Janes you'd thrifted not long back. You'd never given them a go outside before. The only time they'd been worn was in your room and by yourself.

When you were fully dressed, you let yourself examine your outfit in the mirror. While doing so, your phone chimes in your hand. You snap it open hastily and read the notification.

"it's larry. sal gave me your number :P meet us outside when ur ready"

You grinned and walked out of your room. You grabbed your bag and made for the door. When you'd gotten outside, what greeted you there was not exactly what you'd expected.

"Oh! Ashley, is this yours?" You inquired, gazing over the pale silver Ford Fiesta that sat in the driveway. It was a cute car. Ash sat in the driver's seat with the window down and her forest green eyes attentive and on you.

"Yeah! My little brother had an allergic reaction while eating out at some big corporate food chain and we got it in compensation. We already have a family car so it was given to me."

What a nice story, you thought, making sure you maintained your pleasant expression.

"Oh," you passed your gaze over the vehicle again. "Cool!"

You noted Todd's place in the passenger seat. You met his eye and gently waved. He returned the wave, with that neutral look on his face he always seemed to have.

"You're going to be cold," a voice behind you says rather abruptly. You jump, whirling around.

"You scared me," you laughed, your face burning as you made eye contact with none other than Sal Fisher. "What do you mean?"

"Your skirt," he replies, glancing away momentarily. Your eyebrows raise comically.

"You don't like it?"

"No-" he rushes out, a bit too fast. "Uh, no. It's g- it's nice. I meant you're going to be cold in it."

He was right. It was nearing the end of August.

You pass your eyes over your legs, from the a-lined skirt, the sheer black tights, and the chunky Mary Janes. You return your gaze to his—not before catching a glinting glimpse of what seemed to be rings adorning his fingers—and shrugged.

"Oh well. All I'm worried about is being dress coded," you look to Larry, who's near Sal. "Good morning."

"You too," he grins. "Let's get in the car. It's chilly."

You all clamber into the backseat. You're in between Sal and Larry. Hot air blew from the car vents and hit you in the face as Ashley turned the temperature up further. While doing that, she turns on the radio and channel surfs until she's found some sort of soft rock station. She turns it up to a moderate volume.

A car freshener in the shape of a red tree dangled from the rearview mirror and swayed as Ashley put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. It had a charming illustration of what resembled two strawberries on the front.

The car smelled nostalgic—like the smell of the hair on one of those Strawberry Shortcake dolls you owned as a child.

The wistful scent is abruptly overpowered by the smell of smoke and the autumn air. Larry had rolled a window down and had just lit a cigarette to your left. On your right, Sal has pulled out his flip phone and is playing some sort of shit quality version of Frogger.

Interested, you lean over.

"How'd you get that on there?"

He looks over at you. He's close. You can hear him slowly inhaling and exhaling through his nose. "Todd did it for me," Sal replies. He gestures toward you with the phone. The phone makes a sound. The digital frog had fallen into the water. "Wanna play?"

"Oh," you pause, and smile. "I like watching you."

His eyes flicker over your face. "Okay."

He returned to the game. Finally, you had an excuse to stare down at his hands. Multiple silver and black rings adorned his hands. They fit him perfectly—snug on his pretty fingers and accenting his veiny hands perfectly.

During your examination, you hadn't exactly realized it but your cheek was now flush against his shoulder and your hair was tickling his neck.

No, you weren't smelling him, but it was hard not to scent it when you inhaled through your nose. He smelled of delicate laundry detergent—fresh, clean—and of minty vanilla. Breathing that in made you feel what was probably the most at home you'd felt in months.

You glanced up from his hands, to his Adam's apple, to his prosthetic face—his gaze remained attentive on the flip phone, dark lashes moving along to accommodate his flickering eyes. You looked away before he'd noticed, and paid attention to the game.

"You're good," you commented.

He didn't reply immediately, almost as if he'd looked over at you. The side of your face remained on his shoulder and your hair still brushed against the skin on his neck.

"Well, it's only Frogger," he remarked. "I bet you're better. Try it."

The sudden scent of ashy smoke consumed your senses. Larry must have exhaled halfway inside of the car. The vapor floated for a moment before dissipating into nothing.

You took the phone from Sal's hands and shifted in your seat to sit straight up. You pressed play on the game, and within seconds your frog had fallen into the water.

"I suck."

"No, you don't. You're just not trying hard enough."

"Potato, Potahto," you reply, shortly laughing at yourself and pressing play again nonetheless.

Suddenly, the vehicle slammed to a halt. You held onto the phone tight in one hand and steadied yourself on the passenger seat in front of you with your other one.

Sal seemed to have the same idea, except he seemed to panic and had braced yourself on your knee instead. You could have sworn you saw white for a split second, your insides jumping and chills fluttering down your spine. He quickly retracted his touch, catching your eye immediately.

"Sorry," Sal uttered.

"That's okay," you'd done a fine job gathering yourself together. "Perfectly fine."

"Jesus Christ, Ash! What the hell was that?" Larry calls from your left, the cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers. He was halfway through exhaling his smoke when he spoke again. Vapor spilled from his lips as he stared at the front of the vehicle. "Trying to kill us?"

"Whoops! Sorry guys, I almost missed the red light."

"That wasn't very wise," Todd remarked from the passenger seat, turning his head to look at Ash. You couldn't help but shortly giggle, looking back down at Sal's phone.

You heard Sal slowly exhale a breath of relief beside you.

"Yeah, anything but fucking wise," Larry scoffed. "Thought I was about to die, dude."

"I said I was sorry," you could hear the roll of Ashley's eyes in her voice. "My parents would kill me if I got a ticket. Also, who told you that you could smoke in my car?"

"I did." In your peripheral vision, he was staring blankly. "What're you going to do about it?"

In the rearview mirror, Ashley squinted her eyes but said nothing.

"This is a shit show," Sal murmured, looking back to his phone in your hands. You'd returned to the game, still attempting at getting past the first level. The digital frog continuously leaped over lily pads and logs. It was almost therapeutic.

"Sorry you don't want me back here, Sal." Larry's tone had transformed from mildly annoyed to slightly bitter. His cigarette had been held unattended for a decent amount of time so it had begun to burn out. "I didn't ask to third wheel."

You blinked and convinced yourself you'd heard him wrong.

You weren't looking at Sal's face. He was silent for a few seconds.

"Just chill out, alright?"

"I'll say what I want."

"It's too early for this, Larry," Sal bit out. "Cut it the fuck out."

Your heart pumped furiously.

"Where do you want to take this, Sal?"

Ashley jumped in incredibly quick, the car jerking as she turned the wheel abruptly, pulling the vehicle into the school's parking lot. "Fuck no. What the fuck are you thinking, Larry? Going to fight Sal because you're in a pissy mood?"

"I'm not going to fucking fight him, Ashley," He shook his head. "It's just- apparently he's got some kind of vendetta against me today so I guess we could talk somewhere else-"

"That's in your head, Larry," Sal said honestly. "I don't know what makes you think I have something against you today, but I don't. I don't know how you want me to prove that to you."

Larry settles into silence as Ashley pulls the Ford Fiesta into a parking space.

"Just- put the cigarette out and calm down, okay?"

It didn't look like the smoke had much left in it, but Larry still drew one last hit out of it before he stepped out of the car and crushed it beneath his shoe. He throws his bag over his shoulder and slams the car door behind him.

You look over at Sal, who was reaching for the door handle. Ashley and Todd had already exited the vehicle, and Ashley was standing by and waiting for you both to get out so she could lock the car.

"Hey," you murmured before he could leave. The blue-haired boy turned his head and inquired you with raised eyebrows. "Try to be patient with him, when you two talk it out. I haven't known him long—but I can tell he's the sort of person that wouldn't act like that unless something's bothering him."

Sal looks down at you thoughtfully, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. You hear him swallow thickly. "Yeah," he muttered. "He is that type of person. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

With that, you both exit the vehicle and Ashley locks the car. Todd and Larry had already walked up a measured distance ahead of the three of you.

"Do you know what that might have been about?" Ashley asks, directing the question toward Sal by holding eye contact with him. You walk to Sal's left, looking ahead as to not be intrusive on the conversation.

"Uh.." he trails off. A cool breeze filters past your face and legs and it makes you shiver. "Not really. Usually, it's about his mom. Whenever they've argued about something, it puts him in a bad mood."

Ashley seems to give herself a moment to reply.

"Anything else?"

Sal does the same.

"Not that I know of."

Your eyebrows twitch downward.

Ashley walks slightly ahead of the two of you. She calls your name, and you look up from the ground, startled. "How are you liking the apartments? Anytime I've been there, they're kind of creepy."

You giggle. "Yeah. You could say that. I'd say they're alright—it gets kind of cold. The water was fucking ice cold today. Could barely shower."

Ashley mirrors your laughter. "Anything else?"

You pause. "Larry has this really great treehouse. I don't know if you've been, but it's honestly pretty cool. It's homey."

She looks up to Sal in surprise. "She's already been? When did you guys show her?"

He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "Uh, well, we didn't necessarily show her.."

Ashley looks at you curiously. You sarcastically pout towards Sal, finding his eyes to be twinkling with amusement. "I may have broken into it."

"Oh, you didn't break into it," Sal protests, exhaling sharply through his nose in a gentle chuckle. "You just didn't realize it was inhabited."

You look towards Ashley. "Long story short—I found a cool treehouse. Thought it was abandoned. Climbed into it. Coincidentally, Sal and Larry climbed into the treehouse while I was in it. It was embarrassing."

"It wasn't. It was funny," You could hear Sal's grin. "She smoked for the first time that day."

Ashley's jaw dropped in faux-astonishment. "You've tainted her innocence."

You smile. "It was honestly kind of horrible at first."

Before you knew it, the three of you had entered the school. After a few more minutes of banter and friendly conversation, you and Sal parted ways from Ashley to head towards your first class of the day: math.

Once again, Mrs. Packerton had given the class a math sheet. For god knows why she expected you to know all of these things off of the bat and get all of the questions right with barely any assistance. You were stuck on one problem like it always went.

Someone nudged your arm. You looked to your left and smiled at who was looking at you. He glanced down at your paper. "The answer's-"

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Mr. Fisher?"

Fuck, you thought, slowly looking up to your elderly teacher. Glancing over to Sal, his eyebrows were raised and he peered up at the woman at the front of the classroom with something akin to surprise in his eyes. "Uh-"

Before he could explain himself, Mrs. Packerton's entire facade did a 180 and her eyebrows were suddenly furrowed and her frown was deep-set. It was almost comical, and you strained to keep the laugh in. You weren't looking to break a rib, so you unfortunately giggled beneath your breath.

Her dark brown eyes slid over to you. After a moment of being examined and feeling extremely uncomfortable, she sighed.

"I'm administering detention for both of you, after school. I will let you finish the test, but next time this happens it'll be an immediate fail for both of you. Understood?”

You and Sal exchange both equally supposed expressions, before nodding together.

Before class is over, you see Travis giving Sal another sour look. Oh my god, you thought, twirling your pencil around in between your fingers. Is this going to have to be another talk, Travis?

The bell rang. You and Sal jumped up and fled the class as quickly as you could.

"Oh my god," he breathed, as you both stepped into the hallway and began maneuvering through the countless amount of students flooding the halls. "She's super fucking scary. I was so wrong."

You abruptly laugh. "Yeah. She's got that look in her eye." You pause. "I'm sorry, Sal. You wouldn't be getting a detention if it wasn't for me."

Sal tilts his head just slightly. "It's no big deal. It was my fault, anyway. It's not like you asked for my help either times I helped you out. It's not like my dad's going to be mad, anyway—he'll probably be relieved. I've never really got detention for anything, especially involving talking to another person. Probably'll be glad I'm being more social, haha."

You frown. "I'm still sorry."

"I appreciate it, but you don't have to be-"

"If only your friend wasn't so dumb, Sally Face. It's a shame that your perfect record is all tarnished."

Sal appears as though he knew who was talking a few words in. He inhales, turns around to face the blond boy behind him, and backs up a step. "What do you want, Travis?"

Your fingernails sink into your palms. It stings. You told him yesterday!

"Nothing. Just wanna know why she's so stupid."

Sal's eyes flicker. "Mm, think you're forgetting about how close you were to failing mid-terms last year. You're not very bright yourself."

Travis grows a bit red but he looks as though he's trying to ignore his growing frustration. It boggled you—the fact he was so easy to anger because of the fact Sal was defending himself. Defending.. you?

"Whatever. Why am I fucking arguing with a fucking satan worshipper, anyway?"

That genuinely surprised you. What kind of insult was that? And where did it come from?

"Whatever, Travis. God doesn't like bullies, either. I hope you don't kiss your daddy with that mouth-"

You're glad the hall is relatively empty because the crack you hear when Travis' fist meets Sal's prosthetic face is loud and startling. Your heart is in your throat. You place your hands on Travis' chest and push him into the lockers. The metal cages rattle beneath the sudden weight.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you?" You shout, red hot anger coursing through your body and pumping through your veins. "Get the fuck away. I swear to god, I'll-"

Sal murmurs your name, gripping your wrist. "Stop. Don't push him."

You give Travis the bitchiest expression you can muster. He scoffs and walks away. You're surprised he didn't throw one last insult into the air—but he instead walked down the hall with heavy footing, turned around the corner, and disappeared.

As soon as you're done watching him down the hall, you whip around to Sal with wide eyes. He was cupping the place where the mask cut off, collecting blood that dripped down.

"He's got a mean right hook," Sal breathily laughed.

The rage you currently felt made your head hurt. You quickly grabbed him by the wrist and hurried him towards the restrooms at the opposite side of the hall. On your way, the bell rings. You couldn't care less whether or not you were going to miss your class—it's not like you didn't have detention already.

"Hey, what're you-"

You pull him into the girl's bathroom, which was empty. You make sure to turn him away from the entrance. His eyes are as wide as two dinner plates.

"Huh. Smells nice in here," he comments. The fact that's the first thing he says tells you he's clearly in shock from being clocked in the face.

You grab some paper towels and look him in the eye.

"I'm going to clean you up now,"

You reach around his head.

"Hey, I- wait, you don't-"

You unbuckle the clasps at the back of his prosthetic and pull the prosthetic off of his face. You set it aside, and set it on the edge of the sink.

He slowly meets your gaze. The amount of internal fear that's held inside of those eyes—fear you know that's been held in for so long—is astonishing to you. Your eyes soften. You slide your gaze over his face, and all you can feel is an unbelievable amount of happiness and satisfaction.

Butterflies swarm your insides and beat against your ribs at the sight of his mouth.

It's just as kissable as you'd imagined.

Shut the fuck up, you snap back at yourself. Not the time.

You're unable to hold in the large smile that grows on your lips as you bring the paper towels toward his face and wipe away the blood that dripped from his nose, down his mouth, and fell down his chin—there was so much of it that it had made its way down to the collar of his shirt, staining the material scarlet red.

"You can give that to me later," you uttered. "I know a thing or two about getting blood out of clothes, haha."

His lips twitched, but he remained silent and let you do your thing.

After thoroughly cleaning his face off, you return the prosthetic to him, handling it with care.

"Here you go."

After he'd put it on, you met his eyes.

"Hey, Sal, I'm-"

"It's okay." He peered at you sincerely. "That went.. better than I thought it would. I just hope you don't think of me differently."

The thought appalled you.

"No!" You exclaimed, a bit too forceful. You gathered your composure and tried it again. "No. Um- I could never. Seriously. Your face doesn't change who you are, Sal. It doesn't make me think of you any different. You're still you. Besides, I- um... I liked it."

His eyebrows jump and he jerks his head upward. "What?"

"I liked it. I liked your face."

He was silent like it was taking him a little bit to process that. Your eyes wandered during this time, and they landed on the collar of his shirt, again. You cursed.

"Shit. Hold on."

Suddenly, you'd crossed your arms around your midriff and began pulling the sweater upward. The noise Sal made was almost comical.

"No, uh, you don't have to! It's fine, I can-"

Before he could stop you, the shirt was up and over your chest and it was off of your head. Thank god that you'd remembered the black top beneath, or else you'd feel really bad that you couldn't give him the sweater—it wasn't like you could walk around in just a bra (as much as you'd like to sometimes.)

He grabbed the article of clothing from you, hesitant. "You're sure?"

"Yep!"

"Alright," he murmured, cautious, pulling your sweater over his head and pulling it down his torso. Once he'd done so, he looked back to your eyes and inquired you with his own. "So? What do you think?"

Heart beating so loudly it thrummed in your ears, you replied: "You've never looked better," and grinned wider than you ever have before.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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moosoobi · 3 years

Text

Revelation

In the night: Chapter 1

T.Jeffy- Hamilton: the musical

Thomas’s interest in Y/N pulls him into a position he was previously blind to. They say every girl’s another mystery, but definitely not like this. Buckle your seatbelt Tommy, you’re in for a ride

Finally finished the first part of ITN (which is ironic since the moment I wrote this message I still haven’t finished it). I really hope I’m able to bring this story to life the way I want to and I hope y’all enjoy 😔💕. Here’s some stuff to expect:

Told from Thomas’s POV

Modern Au

College talk even though I’m literally in my second year of high school (so please bear with me)

Ruh roh moments

Sorta weird POV/storytelling (I’m new to writing fics and stuff so this is definitely a learning opportunity) Also excuse my English errors: Though this is my only language, my school system seemed to fail in teaching me how to write

Word count: 6.7k (including separators)

2 DISCLAIMERS:

TW: itty bitty angst, themes of injury/blood, etc.

I’m not the best story writer, so after reading this chapter you may have many questions. Please keep in mind that this is one chapter out of (about) 10. Things that you may not understand in this chapter will most likely be explained in future chapters.

-Now Playing: In The Night by The Weeknd-

My God, she’s perfect

The way the sunlight reflects off of her glass skin. The sincerity in every word, every letter that she writes with her only pencil. To be that flawless, it’s a mystery to me. She takes a glance at me. Did she feel me staring? I duck down my head in embarrassment.

“Jefferson, you oughta put that scholarship to good use”

Professor Washington boomed to the entire class. I hear a fragment of her giggle. Her laugh is soft and naïve. I couldn't help but smile at the sound of her happiness.

Washington is right, though. It's my first semester after I came back from my student exchange program over in France and I can already feel my sanity slipping. France was a beauty to visit, so many customs and cultures I wish I could be flourished in right now.

But there was one thing great about going to school in New York: I get to sit in a classroom with Y/N L/N.

I’ve never talked to her formally, at least not yet. She’s always sitting alone, never answers any questions, but Professor Washington makes the class acknowledge her perfect test scores and fascinating interpretations

As the bell rings I watch her stand swiftly. Is she in a rush? I can't help but watch as her hair is flung over her shoulder. She stuffs her notebooks and singular pencil into her burgundy-magenta backpack. Hey, at least she has good taste in color.

I don’t think you understand

She sits alone everyday during lunch, yet she never looks bothered. Her energy is so compelling to me. A feeling about her that I cannot comprehend, something that feels greater than my existence. I just got to know.

“Thomas, you gotta work on staring at people less noticeable” James catches my attention by pointing his fork a little too close to my face.

I was staring? Again?

I shake my head to snap back to reality

“The great Thomas Jefferson is interested in someone for longer than 30 seconds. I gonna be honest with you Thom, that’s impressing”

I hear James laugh as he violently stabs a few pieces of pasta onto his fork.

James has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We went to the same middle and high school down in Virginia, and just coincidentally ended up going to the same college in New York.

We’re always there for each other. I remember cheering for him at a high school assembly after he won a story writing challenge, he’s such a nerd. Then again, he had to drive me home a couple of times after I failed multiple driving tests.

Back in high school, James was the Chess Club Champion, a title he always shoved down my throat. It’s no secret why, though. He’s really good at thinking things through, While I on the other hand tend to dive headfirst into the abyss.

“Shut it James” I sarcastically retort, taking a sip of the expensive chocolate milk which my scholarship supposedly pays for

Hey, can I sit here?

I talked to her during class. Her voice is angelic: Now, I’m not one to be religious and all, but that voice could get me on my knees praying for forgiveness. My ego couldn’t get me anywhere at all, as if she already knew my tactics, she knew my flirts, and how? I guess it just adds to her mystery.

“C'mon! that one works every time!” I whine

“Don't be so full of yourself Jefferson, I’ve heard them all before” A smile danced across her face

She did, however, laugh at some of my remarks. It's good to know that she has a sense of humor. My jokes of Professor Washington’s shiny, bald head. The jokes of Professor Washington’s assistant, John Adams, who’s suspiciously absent considering he signed up for this job.

Heck, I would even make fun of myself if it meant I got to hear that graceful laugh one more time- actually, that might be a little too far.

Many days of giggling in class came after that day. I can see her starting to open up to my friends and I, like she’s spreading her wings and showing us the greatness that lies behind the social wall that she put up years ago. Even when we got in trouble for a little too much giggling in the back of the class, I sacrificed my own pride so she didn’t have to. Yes, I, Thee Thomas Jefferson, did that.

---

Even though I could see the social wall she put up, I knew one day Y/n would fall for my charming pick up lines, or maybe I just happened to have a lucky day:

“Y/N I need some a some help with my math homework”

Y/N glances over to me in concern. I fake a scared expression.

“Quick!” I swiftly grab her shoulder and shake her “What’s your phone number?”

She playfully smacks my arm

---

Obtaining her number felt like a rite of passage, like I’m important to her, like she wants me in her life. I couldn’t stop smiling that day, and of course James just had to make a comment on it.

“Thomas, if you keep smiling like that I’m going to start thinking that your sick or something”

James said as he shut my laptop, tired of waiting for me to pack my things.

“Now that's REAL ironic coming from you, James”

I raised an eyebrow as my laugh begins to come up my throat. I take my closed laptop and shove it somewhere into my backpack.

“Okay, leaving for a month in sophomore year just because of a little fever doesn’t make ‘being sick’ as part of my trade mark”

James playfully smacked the back of my head. Thankfully, my curls serve as protection, not just to make me sinfully handsome. James and I walk out of the freezing lecture hall and were hit with the crisp-coldness of New York.

To the right of me I catch a glimpse of that eye catching burgundy-magenta backpack as it’s thrown into the trunk of a shiny, expensive car. My feet keep its motion as my head turns to see Y/N standing at the door of the car.

“Yo, is that Y/N?” I hear James whisper behind me “and who’s that?”

My attention is suddenly drawn to the tall man walking around the car to open her door. His curly hair is pulled into a small bun and the smile he had on his face broke apart the stubble on his jaw. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m just as clueless as you are”

Keeping my glance on Y/N and the man, I watch as the man opens the door for her. My stomach turns as I watch Y/N smile back at him as she sits in the car.

For a split second, I swear I saw her shoot a soft glance at me. My feet almost stop in their tracks before I feel James’ hand yank me onto another pathway.

“I’m all for you being head over heels, but we’re gonna be late to our study session with Angie”

Reality starts to set back into my head.

“Right, lets dip.”

---

“So little Tommy is Infatuated with this woman?”

Angie’s eyes are piercing, and her luscious hair frames her face in a saintly manner. She slips off her baby pink coat to ease into her library seat. Her eyebrow raises as she takes a sip of her steaming coffee

Of course James wouldn’t shut his mouth, especially around the notorious Angelica Schuyler.

Angie’s pretty popular here, I find myself wondering why she has so many connections, yet it’s not just any reason(s) why she seems to be in the spotlight.

1: She’s the oldest Schuyler. Her last name definitely got her places, not like I’m one to talk. Everyone seems to know her, not just at school, but all around New York City, and with her 5,000 Instagram followers, her first name’s starting to catch up with her last name in popularity

2: Angie’s Daddy has money money. And that’s no secret when she decides to walk around campus with her designer handbags and shoes. I tend to think she always gets what she wants, but I know deep down, she’s never gonna be satisfied. Maybe it’s just a side effect of growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth

And finally,

3: Miss Schuyler here is Bold. She’s never afraid to put both me and James in our place. It’s almost as if she can’t be touched by anyone’s thoughts of her, then again the gossip in NYC is terribly insidious. With such grace and respect, Angelica is not afraid to throw your opinion into the ground.

“Yeah I swear, Jefferson would’ve gotten run over if I didn’t pull him onto the pathway” James attempted to tone down his laugh so the librarian wouldn’t stab him with those old, sharp eyes

“She-...”

For the first time, I didn’t know how to recoil

“..Just caught me off guard.”. In an attempt to change the topic, I flipped through the pages of his textbook.

Angelica and James shared an astonished glance at Thomas before looking at each other. I could hear James shrug and flipping open his textbook. I lift my head as I hear Angelica dig through her bag

“Alright let’s get started” Angie claps her hands together with determination

—-

It’s been 2 hours of studying in the ghostly library. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid the talk forever.

“Hey Thomas, why don’t you invite her to our next study session?”

Angelica smirked as she rudely shut my laptop. I desperately imagine the day where both James and Angelica leave me alone. I angrily glare up at her, but she has a good idea

“Actually, that’s not to bad of an idea” I ponder for a moment before retrieving my phone from my pocket

Thomas: Hey Y/N, u free this week?

Hmm. Is this okay? Nah it’s too straight forward. I sigh as I deleted and retyped the message

Thomas: Greetings Ms. L/N, this is Mr. Jefferson from class. Would you delight me by partaking in a study session?

What the heck Jefferson? I began to get frustrated from this nonsense. It’s just a text, why am I getting so anal over it?

Thomas: Hey Y/N, ds@insdas/19z7dnesdc-

Angelica, who was watching me the entire time, snatched the phone from my hands. I attempted to protest, yet Angelica Schuyler knows how to hold her ground.

“Angie wh-”

“I’ll do you a favor, Jefferson.” She said sternly. There was no way I was getting that phone back, heck, I would be lucky if I got it back in one piece

“Aaaaand sent!” I heard her squeal

Angelica suddenly tossed the phone to me and I fumbled it between my hands before I held it stably. I check to see the text that Angelica sent from my phone

Thomas: Hey this is Thomas from class, wanna come study with us at the library sometime?

Oh. It was that easy.

“Thanks Angie”

I shove my phone back in my pocket. Part of me was excited to have an excuse to text Y/N, yet I do wonder how awkward it would be if she rejected the offer. I mean, she already has the perfect grades, why would she need the extra help?

I start to rethink my decision.

—-

It wasn’t until 11 pm at night until I got a reply from Y/N. Beforehand, I arrived at my apartment around 8 pm. As soon as my door shut, the room was filled with growls indicating my current problem: hunger. That could only be solved with one solution: microwavable mac and cheese.

My phone dinged while I was laying motionless on my bed. My apartment was right next to the street, and all I could hear was the busy streets of New York City.

My eyes opened as I turned to my charging phone.

Y/N: yeah I’m down :) just send a time and place and I’ll be on my way

I was filled with joy, so much that I couldn’t wait another second to reply.

Thomas: Alright, we meet at the library after our class. Can you make it?

Seeing the three dots jump melodically made my stomach feel as if two fairies were dancing throughout my body. Any second now, any second. ding!

Y/N: sounds good!

I guess it’s settled, I get to hang out with the puzzling Y/N L/N, and maybe I’ll get to learn a bit more about her. But just because it’s a study session doesn’t mean I can’t show her what a southern gentleman looks like, and for the first time, I’m so excited to study

---

James, Y/N, and I walk out of professor Washington’s class, laughing our asses off over some stupid joke. Everyone around us appears to be annoyed, especially with having to sit through almost two hours of my friends and I laughing in the back of the class, but it’s not like I care.

Once we’re hit by the bitter cold of New York, my eyes are immediately drawn to that expensive car. So familiar and so faint in head, the memory of Y/N smiling as she hopped into his car replays in my brain.

“I’ll be back guys”

Y/N excuses herself from the group before lightly jogging to the car. Her hair was graceful in the wind, and her burgundy-magenta backpack didn’t seem to weigh her down at all. For a split second, my brain acknowledges that mysterious man in the driver’s seat. There was a moment of awkward eye contact with him, his cold eyes pierced through me before my attention was drawn back to Y/N. She fixes her hair and jacket.

That was cute.

What?

James and I watch Y/N before turning to each other. I suggest to James that we wait for her, show a little southern hospitality. Even though Y/N seems to be fond of this man, he gives off a mysterious vibe similar to Y/N’s, but I do not want to unravel that mystery at all.

Seeing him throw a smirk at Y/N causes discomfort in my stomach.

Y/N comes prancing back to us, an embarrassed smile on her face. Behind her, that shiny, expensive car begins to drive away.

“My bad, I forgot to tell my roommate that I would be out late”

“That’s your roommate?” James asks, attempting to hide his curiosity and shock

“and he takes you home after class?” I interrupt briefly

Y/N nervously laughs before nodding “something like that, he just..”

That pause was a little too long

“..doesn’t like me out of the house too late so he volunteers to drive me home all the time”

I shrug it off before jumping at the feeling of James’ warm hands pulling Y/N and I to the direction of the library. Y/N and I look at him with confusion

“What? Angie doesn’t like when we’re late, remember?” James says, practically dragging us to the Library

—-

“Nice to meet you”

Angelica and Y/N got along pretty well. I can tell Angie was happy to finally have a girl to hangout with rather than having to deal with me and James only. She’s already starting to resemble a sisterly figure to Y/N, then again, growing up with two sisters must’ve prepared Angie for this moment.

I don’t hear much about the other Schuylers, but I am familiar with them. Angelica is the oldest, as we know. Her first sister, Eliza Sch- I’m pretty sure she got married, is the nicest person you’ll meet. Whoever won her surely must be worthy, because we all know people like me wouldn’t get anywhere near Eliza thanks to her older sister. Her youngest sister, Margarita Peggy Schuyler, is just like Angelica.

Stubborn. As. Fuck.

I’m confident that Angelica has taught her that philosophy since she was born. Anyway, Peggy is currently living her dreams in Southern California. Not sure what she does, but I’m sure she’s financially stable, she is a Schuyler after all.

All of us struggle to not annoy the librarian, let alone the entire library. I watch as Y/N opens up, just a little more, to Angelica, James, and I.

Hours pass as we clown around in the library. From actually completing class work to a small drawing competition between James and I, I was certainly having a good time, and so was everyone else.

It was pleasing to see Y/N more laid back rather than how she acts in class. In front of Professor Washington she’s so ‘put together’ and organized, but surrounded by her friends she’s such an amazing person, her range in professionalism and humor is astounding.

I can’t seem to ignore the fact that Angelica notices the way I look at Y/N. It’s definitely not in my strong suit to be ‘low key’, I’m known for dramatic entrances and stealing the spotlight. She smiles when I make eye contact with her, and I’m pretty sure it’s just her way of annoying me, but I can’t help the way I look at Y/N. She really is an angel sent down from heaven, disguised as a college student, and I’m just lucky enough to be her friend.

I’m blind to her flaws. When I see her, I feel like a tourist glancing at the Mona Lisa, memorizing every curve of her face, the way her hair falls around her shoulders, and the way the library lighting reflects off of her glowing skin.

What felt like a sledgehammer breaking a slab of fragile glass, I see Y/N’s phone light up. Even across the table I can read the word “Lafayette” off of her phone. I can’t lie, it surely sounds familiar.

When she finally noticed her phone flash on, I feel her ease turn into worry, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by James, Angie, and I. She starts to pack away her books

“My bad guys, I really gotta go”

Y/N said notably panicking. Her phone flashes once again, yet the only thing that seems to catch my eyes is the bold “7:30” spread across the top of her phone.

“Are you okay by yourself?” I asked, trying my best not to pry into her business

“Yeah, my roommates here to pick me up, I don’t want to make him wait” she tried to play it off, but I’m learning to see right through her

“Alright, see you next time Y/N” I shrug it off

She sends my friends and I a quick smile before replying

“for sure”

Angelica and James got back to work without saying a word, and I could tell they were waiting until she was gone to start teasing me. I eased back into my chair before flipping the pages of my notebook

I watched as she shoved open the library door and disappeared into the darkness. She’s such a mystery, when I feel like she’s opening up, she just shuts the door and we’re back at square one. Though I do claim to love a good challenge, Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

—-

And that’s when it started. It wasn’t just one time where 7:30 was Y/N magic number, oh no, it was oddly consistent. I’m convinced that Y/N is some variation of Cinderella; her polite attitude and the beautiful little things she does without acknowledging it all vanish when the clock strikes 8:00, but that’s just one of many theories made by James.

Another study session with James and Angelica, and Y/N’s flashing screen still compelled Y/N to leave the library without a trace. On some occasions we don’t even notice her escape, we just turn to see her seat empty and feel the faint wind from outside as the library door slowly closes.

One day Angie bought us all tickets to see the preview to the newest, scariest movie I’ve ever watched. I was accompanied by Y/N, James, and Angie, yet their presences made it worse. Halfway through the bucket of popcorn and the movie, Y/N suddenly stood up and left after saying those 5 words. Before she left, I felt the warmth of her hands leave the place on my arm.

I never knew how addicting her warmth would be until it was already gone.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go” The weak smile on her face instantly resonated feelings of sympathy and understanding.

From then on, Y/N and I grew closer as friends. We’d fool around at a local park before heading to campus, obviously sparking a few observations and remarks from James. I’d invite her to fancy dinners, or maybe even a small festival down the road from my apartment, yet her response would always be proven false at the moment she’d leave me and my thoughts at 7:30.

But that hasn’t stopped me from attempting to hang out with her. Even on the days I wouldn’t have class with her we’d go out and get ice cream, study at the park, I guess you can say we’ve gone on a few ‘dates’ since our initial study session.

Whenever we’re apart, I can feel every second expanding to its maximum capacity of time. I wouldn’t see her for a day and it will already feel like years since I’ve seen her. The days I do see her, time seems to maneuver a little too fast. When I recall hanging out with Y/N, all I can imagine is the feeling of floating above the clouds every time she and I made physical contact. Like a rock being dropped into still water, ever touch ripples throughout my body, sending shivers down my spine.

Truly incredible.

—-

She doesn’t like to talk about her personal life, and I find that quite odd. I’m usually one to continue rambling every detail of every trait of mine, yet I find myself yearning to learn more about her.

We text every now and then when we’re outside of class, a little more to be considered ‘just friends’. There’s always a story which unravels just a little more of Y/N’s past, and she’s left me on my own to connect the dots. I must say, she’s definitely an interesting gal, but I know there’s more to discover.

She’s a native New Yorker, born and raised, surviving by splitting an intense rent with her mysterious room mate. Y/N doesn’t talk much of her family, other than faint memories of her mother single handedly raising her and her little brother, who I’m fairly unaware of.

Going into college undecided, Y/N describes her want to learn more about herself before she’s able to make any life determining choices. I’ve noticed that her schedule seems like a labyrinth avoiding life problems and obstacles, so perhaps being placed in the same class coincidentally was just fate playing its part.

Y/N loves to explain her dream for workless weekends, moments in the week where she just gets to sit back, close her eyes, and breathe a little. With finals starting to appear from thin air, I can’t blame her for a dream so far from reality.

Even with the knowledge I hold of her, something never seems to change: her disappearances at 7:30.

It’s always that damn 7:30.

7:30--the cliffhanger your favorite show leaves you desiring for more

the end of a fun night of laughter and glee, wishing it lasted just a little longer

the off-set energy in a room when those around you know something you don’t.

As days, weeks, and months pass since my first text proposal to hang out at the library, Y/N and I become a little closer than just friends. It’s been obvious, especially to James and Angie, that Y/N is more than capable of holding my attention.

Though James is worried that Y/N will just become ‘another girl’ to me, concerning my tomcat nature in the past, he can see the potential I see in her. I find myself wishing I did spend more time with her, maybe I just need to make a better effort.

I’ll prove James and Angie wrong.

Filled with determination and confidence, in the midst of my silent room, I whip out my phone and direct my attention towards forming a text message for Y/N

Thomas: let’s get coffee sometime?

Jefferson charm, don’t fail me now.

---

Before I knew it, Y/N and I were feasting on exotic cheeses and aged wine in my New York apartment. I hit play on a random romcom which helps to fill the emptiness in my apartment and ironically the thin space between Y/N and I.

I have no idea how to make my move. Though I’m not aware of my competition, I imagine if Y/N could attract someone of My caliber, I should be well aware of the things she’s capable of. Originally I planned to court her-- I know, I know, I’m a man of tradition--yet after James caught on to my recognizable frustration, He suggested I go for it.

This is surprising on multiple occasions, especially since James possesses the ‘brains’ between the both of us. Being the chess club champion, ‘talk’ won’t aid you when you're struggling in a chess match. Just like how he meticulously plays chess, he examines my situation and provides his Virginian insight, or so he prefers to call it, and they always proceed the way his scheme describes.

I’ve adhered his advice to my life ever since we were kids, and when I didn’t, he’d simply reply with:

“I told you so”

His smug smirk accompanied with a finger pointing to his temple would soon transform from clever to annoying.

I feel a vibration come from my pocket. Well, of course it’s not Y/N texting so must I really answer it? I pull out my phone despite my doubts and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

James: 👍

Speak of the Devil.

But enough about James. I understand that both Y/N and I are mature college students, yet I still fear the disruption in our friendship I can provoke just by making my move. I’ve gotten this far; If she wasn’t interesting I’m sure she would’ve rejected me sooner.

She’s different, she’s unique, something about her that I just can’t place, but also something missing. Anyway, this is probably my best chance at shooting my shot at Y/N, and it’s too late now to back down.

As my lips part in an attempt to speak and make a move, Y/N’s motionless phone (currently laying undisturbed on my coffee table) suddenly brightens with the most obnoxious ringtone I’ve ever heard. The words “It’s 7:30!” flash on her screen, almost as if it was warning her rather than reminding her.

“Y/N—” my eyes follow her body as she swiftly stands up

“I gotta g—” I watch as she attempts to grab her purse, yet her body is limited when I firmly grab her arm. She looks back to me with tiredness in her eyes.

Part of me thought maybe, just maybe, Cinderella here wouldn’t have a curfew. That I somehow would be the exemption to this consistent confusion . But you can only daydream so far into the day until you’re pulled back into your reality

Her entire demeanor seems like it was reconstructed after her alarm went off. Moments ago she was just enjoying tasty cheese and cheesy movies, and the worst part is, I have no idea why.

“Let me speak, darlin’”

I stand up to avoid the way her eyes look down on me. I can’t stand that pitiful glare; she looks at me as if I’m a child incapable of understanding her situation, but she’s too stubborn to let me know. I’d be wise to use this time to make a move on different circumstances.

“Now, you’re always leaving at seven thirty..”

Her sigh is almost enough to interrupt me

“..why’s that? Talk to me.”

I maintain my eye contact before it’s abruptly broken. She looks everywhere but my eyes, and I wonder where in my apartment she would find an excuse, yet still manages to dodge the question.

“..you wouldn’t understand..” she scoffs almost intentionally, honestly scratching a part of my ego. I hate to admit she’s right, I really don’t understand what’s going on.

I cock my head to the side. Where’s this coming from?

“Darlin’, I’m sure I’m a very understanding person—”

“—I need to leave”

I could tell by the look of her face that she wasn’t trying to argue, but it’s inevitable.

“Why can’t you just tell me?..” I put my hands up as a sign of defeat, but I’m not giving up yet. “We’ve been friends for a while and you’re always leavin’ at seven—”

“I know! I know..” she removes my hand from her arm, clearly refusing to look up at me.

“Let’s just say..I got a job..?”

Oh. That’s what this is all about? A job? She couldn’t spare at least an explanation for a part time gig?

“See? That wasn’t so hard”

“It’s..really embarrassing..” The glance she takes around the room makes me wonder if she’s really telling the truth. it’s not really my place to speculate, there’s no going back from this.

“It’s alright, it’s just a job after all” I claim, trying to get this conversation back on track

“This is exactly what I meant but ‘you wouldn’t understand’”

Huh?

“You don’t know what it feels like to have your life rely on minimum wage—” she sounds like she’s holding something back.

“Y/N wher—”

“A-and here you are makin’ me late for work” her eyes appear on the verge of crying.

“darlin’ look..”

“God, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life!”

Silence.

Both of us refuse to speak. Y/N phone, still on the table, chimes again. “7:35” it said on its bright screen.

“Is that really how you feel?..” I take a step back to give her space. She still refuses to look at me.

There’s no way she’d cause all this chaos just because of a job. And even if she believes I’ve piggy backed off of my name for my entire life, why would it matter to her?

“I..I should leave” before I could process what just happened, she swiftly tosses her phone into her bag and heads for the door.

“Y’know, I had a nice time..” was all I heard before the harsh shutting of my apartment door.

And that was the end of it.

My first thought after the door shut wasn’t to whip out my phone and attempt to text her, it certainly wasn’t to call James and inform him of his miscalculation, but instead to attend to the matter at hand. This cheese and wine won’t clean itself.

And the night continued normally, as if nothing had ever taken place. I couldn’t help but microwave another cup of Mac and cheese to cope with what Y/N said. Nothin’ like a good meal to divert your attention away from your problems. But even a good cup of cheese and pasta can’t stop me from thinking’:

Is that all I am to her?

A southern snob incapable of functioning without their father’s last name?

After an introspective shower, and a few episodes of a random Netflix show, I’m finally alone with my thoughts and feelings. I lie in darkness, tussling and turning at every occasion, unable to extract her words from my mind.

If there’s someone whose opinion I care about the most, it’s Y/N L/N. I consider texting her at this very moment, yet I’m sure that I’m the last person she wants to talk to. The weight of my actions falls heavily onto my shoulders every minute, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Give her space, Jefferson, and maybe you’ll be able to fix this tragedy.

---

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The knocks on my apartment door were enough to jerk my body back to consciousness. Sadly pulled from the warmth of my dreams, I’m hit with the cold, noisy reality of an average night here in New York.

Can my day get any worse?

Coming straight from the depths of slumber, I take a few minutes to process reality. Maybe the knocks were in my head. Did I dream about someone knocking on my door? Perhaps it’s

The sun’s still not up yet, why am I?

Groggily sitting up, I decide to check the time, yet it takes me multiple attempts to grab my phone in the dark before I catch a sight of the time.

2 am?!

Who is so out of their minds so show up to my apartment at this time? Who do I know that would show up at this time?

James is too sensible for that,

Angie would never waste her time on me, for whatever reason,

And Y/N—

well.

I don’t know our circumstances right now.

I debate whether or not I should answer the door. Perhaps it’s just rock that happened to hit the door of my apartment, and even if it is a person, I’m not aware of anyone so mad to show up in the middle of the night. it’s not worth my time.

...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

So much for ‘Not worth my time’. A groan is all my body can respond with while I gradually stand from the comfort of my bed. I grab the nearest shirt, which was draped over my desk chair, and scramble to put it on. Passing my cramped kitchen, my hands subconsciously flip on the nearest light switches, while my eyes struggle to comprehend the sudden light.

Before I reach the door, I couldn’t help but attempt to fix my hair. Just because someone happens to show up outside unannounced doesn’t mean I can’t present my best rendition of a southern gentleman.

And finally, through my fatigue and irritation, I’m finally urged to grab the doorknob and twist it open in one motion.

“Uh, it’s two a.m. so I hope--”

I nervously scratch the back of my head, attempting to add spice to this awkward encounter. It wasn’t until my eyes caught sight of the blood dripping down her glass skin and the meeting of our eyes did I have any words

“Y/N?!?”

Her cold, pale, and hurt body would’ve hit the concrete floor if I had answered the door any later.

---

And there she layed half colorless on my bed. Her smile was full of embarrassment and gratitude as I sat beside her, tending to the evident cuts and Injured areas of her body. “I hope I’m being a great house guest” she joked, causing her to laugh, yet hurting herself in the process.

“Hey, Hey, Take it easy..” Y/N’s presence usually fills me with carefreeness, or perhaps stability, but for the first time I can’t help but react seriously. Her demeanor changed as she saw my retaliation to her joke.

“I guess…” she looked down to her fragile body, a sigh released, seeming to be an attempt to calm down. “...I owe you an explanation for earlier. And especially for showing up at your place at 2 in the damn morning. ”

Thomas’ hands, full of wipes and hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton balls, froze in their tracks before he looked up at her, eager to listen and visibly confused. Y/N visibly winced as the cotton balls stuck to her cuts for longer than they should’ve, yet with Thomas’ reflexes at their all-time-max, he pulled them away with a worried expression.

“Explanation? You said you got a job, and I’m sorry for not respecting it..” I continued to clean her up, consensually of course, how could I call myself a gentleman if I were to act upon improper motives?

“Again..” I utter quietly “..I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m ashamed you feel that way”

I attach an ivory-colored band aid to her glass skin, careful not to damage it any further. I look up to her watching, pitiful eyes. “You were saying?” I reciprocate the attention to her, awaiting a so-called answer to come out of her mouth

“I didn’t know where else to run to..” she attempted to sit up, lifting her weight off of my satin-covered sheets, yet quickly stopped when being hit with a wave of pain from her right shoulder

Though my first thought would’ve been ‘Damn it, my darn sheets are ruined’, it was quickly drawn to Y/N and her current problem

“Y’know, I think an apology and explanation can wait, Y/N. you need a little sleep, it’s already three in the mornin’ for god’s sake” a small laugh erupts from her

I sent her an assuring smile, trying to remind her that everything is always going to be okay in a Jefferson household. And surprisingly I received a smile in return, a smile of trust and security that I’ve never felt so glad to see. Of course, I wish I could’ve seen that smile under different circumstances, but I’ll work with what I got.

I stood from my beautiful satin sheets and reached for a hoodie on my swivel chair. (everything but your closet is a closet, change my mind) I braced for a cold night on my apartment couch while Y/N enjoys the warmth of my bed, but Y/N had other plans.

“Wait- Thomas.” She said firmly

I turned tiredly to her direction, my arm already extended for the door, yet frozen in place as I awaited a response

“Can you just..” she scoot herself over, as much as possible with her frail body “..hold me?” She watches me anxiously

“I mean— you don’t have to b—” I didn’t hesitate at all to gently slide under the sheets of the bed. As soon as I turn to her direction, I can’t help but feel scared to touch her in fear of hurting her; my hands don’t know where to reside. “Where do I..” I’m truly perplexed

She giggled at my confusion and shyly grabbed my hand “I’m not so fragile you know”

She brought my hand up to the side of her head, and all I could process was the texture of the bandages under my fingertips. I don’t know what's going on, but I couldn’t just leave her out there.

“..Right..” I wait for her eyes to close before I can even think about closing mine, and soon the texture of the bandages seem to melt onto my fingertips as I’m finally able to return to my slumber.

“See you in the mornin’..”

---

I didn’t wake up until I felt the sun rays kissing my back through my so-called ‘blackout curtains’. Such a scam. The room seemed a little too quiet; I gently turned onto my other side just to find an empty bed. I consider the possibility of last night’s encounter with Y/N was all just some messed up dream, but when I saw the faint stains of blood on my sheets, I knew I was far from dreaming.

My body doesn’t want to move, and I’m stuck sitting up in my bed for another ten minutes. What the heck is going on? One minute she yells at me, then next thing I know she’s outside my apartment at 2 am.

And that explanation.

I guess I was such a fool to think she wouldn’t continue to run away from this matter. My thoughts are interrupted by my buzzing phone. I know for sure that it’s not Y/N hittin up my phone right about now.

James: Let’s try that new coffee place a few blocks from your apartment?

He really read my mind, or maybe it’s a response made from calculating my failure yesterday. But a distraction sounds tremendous.

Thomas: bet.

I throw on a cleaner, more professional jacket, if such a thing exists, and swiftly get my feet out the door. Everything seems the same, as if nothing had taken place last night. The world still spins and I’m expected to spin with it.

I don’t think I’m anywhere near capable of unraveling your mystery.

Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

#thomas jefferson fanfic #thomas jefferson #Daveed Diggs #daveed x reader #thomas x reader #alexander hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamiltonau #Angelica Schuyler #james madison #marquis de Lafayette #lafayette x reader #lafayette #george washington #washington #John Laurens #hercules mulligan #thomas jefferson x reader

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skylar-drago · 3 years

Note

Very very very smol question with absolutely no relevance to anything: if you have wings, what would you want them to look like.

Okay so first of all: we've done this before XD (I don't think this was my answer though)

I'd want them to be black. Not black-black but like raven black, the spoofy kind that makes all the colors if you look at it right. Maybe silver speckles but lil' itty bitty ones.

So basically: oil spill + stars :D

#Trying to be coherent be like

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gay-mcr-slut · 3 years

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why is womens jewelry so fucking boring?? just plain diamond necklaces or earrings. plain silver bangles. diamond incrusted heart pendants smaller than a fruit fly for the price of your left lung. tiny little itty bitty heart rings you can barely see. boring ass pearl earrings. but mens jewelry?? oh buddy lemme tell you. GUNMETAL BLACK. SKULLS. CHAINS. SPIKES. DANGLY EARRINGS WITH SKULLS AND CHAINS. BATS. GOAT HEADS. SPIDERS. SPIKES ON CHAINS. WOVEN LEATHER BRACELETS WITH SPIKES AND SKULLS. SKULLS AND CROSSBONES. ANGRY SKULLS. DAGGERS. AXES. KNIVES. HORNS. DEVIL WINGS. CHUNKY CHAIN NECKLACES. FUCKING BAPHOMET. absolutely rad. why dont women get shit like this??

#shitpost #mini rant #fuck womens jewelry #i only wear mens jewelry

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ask-fromthepinnacle-tothepit · 4 years

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I'm very distraught over Lucifer’s angel outfit. First he has Gaiam leggings, next itty bitty chicken wings, his third pair of wings are placed on his ass cheeks, or the fucking metal monstrosities on his shoulders, the gold instead of silver. I am so fueled by anger and disappointment I have come out of my hiatus.

#inferi speaks #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me spoilers

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gildersbane · 3 years

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The Gilder’s Bane

“ Portraits “

Boots, loose around the ankles from their laces removed to make a lasso, fell upon stone floors as Princess Petra marched down the corridors. Morning sunlight dipped in through dusty glass in arched windows. Lighting her path as she journeyed past locked doors and prying eyes toward the nursery. A place she’d not been since she was a baby, but which was now the home of a baby sister.

A baby sister who picked a truly terrible time to decide to join them.

They weren’t expecting her for another couple weeks. Maybe if they had been allowed that kind of time, this whole mess would have blown over. Maybe without a new baby in the home and a mother recovering from labor, everyone wouldn’t be on high alert all the time. This would have been a problem, obviously, but they might have actually let it go after a couple days.

But it wasn’t as if they could just put her back. She was here now and everyone was going to have to get used to it. And Petra… Petra was going to have to start setting a “good example”. Whatever that meant. She liked to think that she was setting a fine example as she was.

Steps came to a stop outside the cracked nursery door. Petra pushed it open the rest of the way and peered into the shadows. Inside it was dimly lit, with only a bit of light slipping through the sheer white curtain over the window. It was warm inside from the morning sun beating against the castle but the sleeping little one in the antique bassinet. Looking at this old, plush piece of furniture, the elder princess couldn’t imagine a time when she was ever tiny enough to fit inside it. It sat beneath a lovely canopy of pink cloth that draped around it. Providing a little fortress for the child to rest without light from the outside world slipping in. For now, though, those drapings were withdrawn, as Meliora had just been in here with her daughter. Liking sitting with her in the leather armchair that sat just beside it within the canopy.

The little girl’s eyes didn’t open as Petra approached and looked down at her. She was swaddled in a plush blanket and peacefully sleeping the morning away without a care in the world. Despite the noise from the castle staff hurrying from one wing to another, the construction happening up on the roof and the barking of castle dogs beyond the window in the courtyard below. She didn’t stir. For however much longer that would last before she’d wake and begin to cry again for food or clean dressings or attention. It was a miracle she was able to stay quiet long enough for the nursemaid to step out and fetch something.

Petra leaned against the edge of the bassinet carefully. Looking down at the itty bitty princess as she lay. Her baby soft, warm brown skin. The tuft of dark, fluffy hair on just the very top of her head. She looked more like a doll than a little human.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Petra whispered as she stepped back from the child to let her have her rest.

Clearly the currently nameless infant wasn’t in dire need of care. She was fine unattended before Petra showed up, surely she’d be fine for another few minutes while Petra took a walk to clear her head. Luckily she knew just the place for it that happened to be right down the hall. So Petra slipped out of the nursery without a sound, leaving the door ajar so she could hear her sister if she started to cry. A moment later she was walking further down the hall in a direction away from where she’d find anyone else in her family.

This path led Petra to one of the more prestigious halls in the entire castle. Down the hall, down a short flight of stairs and around a corner, she found the portrait hall. A place where portraits of every ruler of Argustead hung along with some of their treasured items. Alongside at least a dozen portraits of people Petra wasn’t certain the identities of. But it was the rulers who had the biggest and most ornate frames.

Aside from the princess and her ancestors this hall was vacant. Everyone had much more important business elsewhere. With her head hung, Petra walked past more than a handful of her ancestors. Her paternal grandparents frowning down at the world in oil paint. A sour looking pair neither Lucien or Petra had ever met. Their parents beside them, looking even more uptight with ruffled collars that looked as if they would soon be swallowed whole. An empty space made to accommodate the portrait that would someday hang for King Lucien- The latest in a long line of great men. And beside that space…

“Hi, Dad.”

Petra’s voice broke the silence that filled the hall with a solemn tone. Her eyes didn’t lift from the floor at first to look at him. But when she did, her chest felt tight and her shoulders heavy. Stoic eyes the same color as her own stared out at the world, seeming to follow her no matter where she stood. His expression was still and lacking any emotion but Petra didn’t mind. It was just good to see him again. King Samuel, late king of Argustead, stood poised with his head high. In his grasp he held his trusty wooden shield. He wore a deep red velvet suit with the silver trim like his own parents wore. Meliora had always used to tease him about looking like a tomato with those red clothes and auburn hair on his stocky body. Over the years he’d grown out the thick ginger beard that covered the lower half of his face in this portrait. It was painted only a couple years ago. Before anyone would have ever considered that the worst could happen.

Below the portrait, hanging on the wall at eye level was an old, worn shield of wood. The one in the portrait but with a few more years and a few more battles added to its life. It’s circular shape had been broken by a large wedge of it having been hacked out by a powerful axe blow. The bronze plate at its center was scratched and dented but sturdy. Damaged as it was, it wouldn’t be of any use in a battle these days. But it had served Samuel well in his life, up until the very end. And when tragedy struck, it was with its king until the bitter end. Meliora had given her blessing to put the shield on display. To immortalize her late husband’s bravery and honor his memory.

‘Honor his memory’...

With a hefty sigh, the princess turned her back to the wall and sank onto the floor. She dropped her head back against the cold stone and closed her eyes tightly. She could feel the frustration rising again just thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Everyone partying at the Coronation like it was just another celebration, everyone telling her to stop acting the ways she’s always been encouraged to act, hammering in how things would need to be different now.

“How am I supposed to honor your memory if everyone wants to change everything you left behind?”

Petra knew there wouldn’t be an answer, but she needed to ask somebody. Nobody else seemed to understand why she couldn’t just let the past go. Why she didn’t want to stop doing the things he’d taught her to do.

When she was little, Samuel always had an adventure for her. He knew that she’d never have the same esteem as Lucien since she was the second born child to the second queen… So he’d tried his best to give her as much freedom as he could give. As much room to forge her own path as their kingdom could allow. When he realized how much she loved to watch the guards training, he realized that she wasn’t going to be the same kind of reserved and quiet child her brother had been. He asked the captain to let Petra join the younger class of future soldiers. She trained along with the future squires and young hopefuls who longed for the days when they could be a brave knight for the kingdom. Defending their furthest borders from all manner of fiend and foe. It wasn’t the life most kings wanted for their daughters, but Samuel wasn’t blind as they were to what his children needed.

Petra could still remember the swell of joy when she was given the family armor. It wasn’t a full suit, it hadn’t been as long as it was in the royal family’s possession. It had been refitted generations ago to fit a smaller body than the broad shouldered men of their family. It was a perfect fit for Petra. She wore that silver armor as often as she could get away with it. Sometimes even wearing the greaves under her gowns at formal events. She only got in trouble for it a couple of times.

But even that had changed. All because of that sword. The moment she discovered it in that ancient forge, it drastically altered her life. In ways that she still didn’t fully understand. But it was special. Petra could feel it. A smoke creature no one could identify had come out of nowhere to attack her for it. It was a mystery that needed to be solved and nobody but her was even trying. She was certain that if she just went back up to that forge she could find clues. Maybe Petra could learn who put the sword there for her to find it. And maybe figure out why she was having such strange dreams. But Lucien had forbidden her from going back up the mountain. In fact, after her last fight, he’d locked her in the castle indefinitely.

True. It was the worst Petra had ever been beaten in a fight… But the injuries were mostly superficial and wouldn’t even leave scars. Everyone was making a big deal out of the wrong things. She was okay. They needed to find out what was going on.

Why wasn’t anyone on Petra’s side in this?!

“Your highness?”

Her eyes opened with a start and the princess looked around the previously empty hall. The portraits still stared lifelessly out at each other on both sides. The only People in the hall were Petra and…. Whoever the guy at the end of it was.

He didn’t look much older than her. A year or two, tops. He had a long, rounded face Petra may have seen around the castle a few times, but never paid close attention to. Maybe down on the lower floors by the dungeons. Where the court alchemists and royally appointed smart people worked. But this guy didn’t look like he was one of those people. He didn’t look aged or bearded enough for that. Plus he still had a full head of black hair divided into many thick locks atop his head. A lot of those old guys downstairs had long since lost their hair to the years.

He also wasn’t dressed nearly as elegantly as the court mages in their flowing robes. This guy’s clothes looked second hand and well worn. With visible repairs made to the seams of his green overcoat.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” Petra pointed out, gesturing to the portrait over her head.

The boy didn’t seem deterred. In fact he only smiled and walked closer before stopping a couple yards back and bending at the waist to bow.

“Your highness, I was hoping for just a few minutes of your time.” He said, lifting his head to peak up at her. “I heard whispers- gossip really. I had to find out for myself if it was true. Did you truly fight a … monster?”

A loud groan rumbled from the princess’ chest as she hauled herself up onto her feet, “What? Have you come to tell me I’m crazy too? That I should stop running into trouble? Or that it’s my own fault that some big purple smoke monster showed up and attacked me and tried to take MY magic sword?”

The stranger popped up from his bow, eyes wide and sparkling with delight at her words. His face split into a wide grin and his hands dove into the satchel he wore draped across his body. He pulled a roll of wrinkled parchment and a quill out and took a few steps more toward Petra.

“Crazy? It sounds exciting! In fact, I was hoping that you would allow me to be the one to document your account of the events.”

This was definitely a surprise to Petra. This guy was the first to volunteer to listen to her.

“Who are you?” She asked, her brow furrowing curiously as she looked him over, “Why do you want my account? Hasn’t the king already given everyone the official story?”

Petra nearly rolled her eyes. Yes. Lucien’s story had, of course, been that the assault on her had been an isolated incident and not a reason for panic. That the one responsible would soon be brought to justice and that their peace wouldn’t be disturbed. Petra wondered if anyone actually believed it.

With a sheepish smile, the young man bowed his head once again. “My name is Micha Fontaine. I’m an apprentice to the royal archivist. Mostly I help keep our scrolls organized and make sure the old books get dusted. But I’m hoping to change that.”

He righted himself and clutched his paper to his chest with purpose, his eyes full of resolve.

“Can I speak my mind, your highness?” Micha asked, his tone hopeful but careful. Petra gave a shrugging nod. She figured he was already doing that… “With all due respect to his majesty, I don’t think his story was… enough. The people want details. They want a mystery and they want to see it solved.”

Already Petra could see that she liked where this was going.

He continued, his voice lifting enthusiastically. “I want to give the world a story they’ll never forget. Mystery, action, magic-!”

As he carried on, Petra’s ears picked up on something else in the castle. A different sound she couldn’t quite make out. A faint, distant droning.

“If what I heard is true, your story of what happened three days ago could be just what I need.”

Petra raised a hand, trying to quietly shush the boy as his bright voice completely overpowered her hearing. That sound was still going. Shifting and changing in pitch somewhere within the castle. But what it was exactly she couldn’t tell with Micha talking over it.

“If I get your first hand account of your experiences then I could finally prove myself and move up in the world.” He blinked, watching the princess waving her hands to try and quiet him. “.... What are you doing?”

“Stop talking.” She whispered, eyes darting around the corridor, trying to discern what she was hearing and where it was coming from.

The droning continued in an unbroken rhythm from somewhere else in the castle but here. It was an unfamiliar tone to someone who had spent every day within these castle walls. Petra had spent her entire life getting used to every voice, every creak and every groan these old walls held. But this was entirely new. It was also markedly nothing like the pounding of the construction. And with the castle locked down, it was very unlikely that they had a visitor.

Not a welcome one anyway.

One look at Micha’s face and Petra could see that he also heard it and was equally disturbed. Despite the fact that they’d never met, it was clear that the boy had been around long enough to know when something didn’t belong. As the princess took a few steps back down the hall the way she’d come, a chill rocked Petra to her bones. The humming was coming from…

Upstairs… The Nursery!

Petra gasped, her eyes snapping over to where Micha stood. “Come with me. Now!”

This apprentice archiver was not exactly the ideal backup Petra would have wanted when running into a potential danger. But she was unarmed and he was taller than her. He might at least tilt the odds in her favor if something truly bad was happening upstairs.

Without pausing to explain or wait for him, Petra took off in a full sprint toward the stairs. She stumbled in her loosened boots but didn’t let that stop her.

She never should have left her sister alone. She’d told her mother that she’d be there taking care of her. If something happened to her because she wandered off, it would be all her fault! Maybe Lucian was right. Maybe she was being reckless.

Slipping and sliding on smooth stone floors Petra, with Micha quick on her heels and stuffing his belongings back in his satchel, came upon the nursery door she’d foolishly left open. It was now a bit more ajar than she’d left. Confirming that someone had indeed come to this room since she left. She gave a glance back at Micha and signalled for him to follow her lead as she approached. And now that they were coming up on the room the sound they had both heard was clear as day.

It was a voice. Deep, smooth and melodic. A man’s voice by the sound of it. It held a calm but eerie energy with every moment it continued. It was very different from the booming, bone rattling roars of the monster that Petra had fought. This had to be someone else. Whoever this voice belonged to, they seemed to be… Humming. There was no mistaking it, though. It was not a voice Petra knew. And if she didn’t know them, they had no business with her baby sister.

Casting out any doubts and any fears she might have, Petra threw open the door and entered the nursery, ready to confront this mystery man. When she entered, she saw the canopy curtains around the bassinet drawn closed, though the light from the window shined through them. It was warmer than it had been when she was last in the room. But a cold stab of horror still ran through Petra as she took in the dark silhouette of a figure sitting within the pink curtains. Taller than anyone Petra had known but unmistakably shaped like a person. A person sitting in the nursery of a three day old child, notably cradling something to their chest in the shadows.

With Micha hovering in the doorway, Petra advanced. In a few quick strides she crossed the room and reached for the curtains to pull them open. When she ripped the curtains back, there was nothing that could prepare her for what she saw within.

Petra might have expected someone foolish enough to invade a castle and attack a child to be dressed like some sort of bandit or thug. But this person- or whatever they were, was dressed too well to be either. He wore a fine black and cream colored suit jacket with gold trimmings and embroidery around the lapels, cuffs and closed waist. His crossed legs were covered in what the princess could only assume were tall riding boots for they were all black and came up well beyond his knees. Making his legs appear even longer than they already seemed to be. But his clothes weren’t his strangest feature.

He was… Tall. Nearly at eye level with Petra even while seated. And he was grey. Blue-grey like lead or steel and with nearly the same metallic sheen where the light struck him just right. His eyes, kept lowered even as Petra barged in on whatever mischief he might have been up to, were sunken and dark. If there were sclera in his eyes, there was no shine or whiteness in them. Only pools of darkness around two gold irises dotted with blue pupils. He almost looked like a statue sitting in Meliora’s chair. If not for the fact that when Petra looked to his grey hands, she saw him gently holding the baby princess’ tiny hand. While his other arm held the fragile baby close to his body and very out of Petra’s reach. It was worth noting that the infant was, as of yet, unharmed.

And then… there was his hair. Shimmering golden waves- literally- pouring from his scalp. Looking far more like molten metal than strands of hair, it seemed to flow away from his head and stop of its own accord around his shoulders. Petra now wondered if the added warmth in the room was coming from him.

This person- This creature was unlike anyone or anything Petra had seen before. He certainly wasn’t the same as that smoke creature. But she had no reason to believe he wasn’t just as malicious.

“Ah.. Hello, Princess.”

That deep voice cut through the silence, knocking Petra from her confused, stunned stupor. She’d been staring and trying to process what she was seeing for so many seconds that she was startled. She tightened her jaw and fixed the mysterious figure with a hard glare as she watched those hollow eyes slowly raise and settle on her. The sight brought abrupt and frightening memories of her dream before she’d awoken on the beach and left her with a powerful and looming sense of dread. The figure didn’t stand up. Didn’t make a move toward her. He only pulled back his thin lips into an unsettlingly calm smile.

“You and I have business to discuss...”

#the GIlder's Bane #petra #lucien #meliora #samuel #king lucien #king samuel #princess Petra #webcomic #web comic #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr #pages #Micha #Auran #this is a longer one folks #buckle up we cover a lot of ground in this one

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monstersdownthepath · 4 years

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Monster Spotlight: Augurs

CR 2

Lawful Evil Tiny Outsider

Pathfinder Bestiary 3, pg. 171

(image taken from Pathfinder 2nd Edition Bestiary pg. 280)

god just LOOK at that face! It’s so cute! I can basically hear its tiny voice in my head now: “c-can i pwease haff sum of yow bwood? pwetty pwease? you haff so much of it... <O3″

Don’t be fooled by its adorable eye and pleasant round shape, though, this creature here is one of the Velstrac (aka Kyton), the sadistic invasive souls which took over the Plane of Shadow. The Augur is the lowest form of Velstrac there is, made from the punished souls of those who’ve disappointed the Demagogues or just ran afoul of much higher-ranked Velstrac. Yes, that’s right; that critter up there used to be a person, but has now been mangled and deformed into a spherical shape after being ran through with hundreds of metal shards and chains. The average size of an Augur is one foot in diameter.

Just what does a human body have to go through to be able to fit in one foot of space?

Best not to ponder it. As the least of the Velstrac and standing at a proud CR 2, one may reasonably expect the Augur to be the proud Familiar species of the pain-loving sociopaths, and one would be right! Any Lawful Evil caster with Improved Familiar and 7 or more levels under their belt can take one of these floating balls of sharp under their wing, The little buggers have an... extreme response to seeing blood and gore, though, often unable to contain themselves from performing acts like rolling around in piles of gore, dipping their blades in blood, or randomly pricking people who get too close just to see the blood drip. Keeping their literal bloodlust in check is the biggest hurdle a caster with an Augur familiar faces, but it’s worth it.

Not for their combat prowess, mind. God, no. Their melee prowess is negligible even with the bleed. The save DC for their spells and abilities is a towering 9, making them incapable of harming level-appropriate enemies in the majority of cases. Even their fear-inducing Unnerving Gaze has a DC of 9, making it useless for anything but bullying civilians and animals. And besides, if their DCs WERE higher, their only offensive options are an at-will Bleed and a 3/day Inflict Light Wounds, which aren’t exactly impressive. On the plus side, if you have Undead minions or are Undead yourself, I’m sure the extra 1d8+5 bandage you can get from these balls of knives is welcome.

Speaking of Undead, Augurs have a constant Deathwatch effect on themselves, able to see the status of any creature they can perceive; Deathwatch is a useful effect to just have at all times, basically acting as an observable health meter... But more importantly, it lets you see if a creature is alive or Undead, letting your instantly note disguised ghouls, lively vampires, and other sneaky creatures. Unfortunately, this information is held inside a creature who cannot speak, adding a layer of annoyance to the whole deal. Better learn to interpret eyeblinks and blade clatters!

Anyway, the true use of an Augur is its resilience and its scouting potential. With +7 Perception and +17 Stealth, their itty bitty size and 50ft Perfect flight speed means they can easily zip to and fro with little fear of being caught. Even if someone does spot this little critter bumbling through the air (remember to remove extraneous chains when not in combat!), they’re protected by DR 5/Good or Silver, and their Regeneration(!) 2 can only be suppressed by silver weapons or Good-aligned weapons and spells.

And, of course, as a “servitor” Familiar, it can cast Commune 1/week to put you in touch with the Demagogues. Even if they’re not the best, they’re still useful!

You can read more about them here.

#Monster Spotlight #CR 1 to 5 #familiar spotlight #body horror #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors · 5 years

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Idk if you've been asked to before, but would you mind giving physical descriptions of the boys + May and Greta?? I wanna draw them and make sure I dont miss anything important!!!!!

sure! first off llaskdjhljk HOLY SHIT every time someone wants to draw laoft an angel gets its wings basically

i dont really do a lot of physical descriptions in story because im bad at making them fit into the flow, so its just itty bitty scraps all spaced out but all in one go

Virgil -tallest, over 6′. sort of spindly almost, with long fingers. Very pointed ears. long-ish black hair, but not quite long enough for him to pull it back, just enough that it falls in his face a bit. bright purple eyes, VERY pale

Roman - second tallest, about 6′ even. Strong Boy but he’s not like, buff he’s built more like a runner. reddish-brown hair and green eyes, the tannest of the four boys

Logan - second shortest of the four boys, basically just looks like canon but is a little skinnier and a little paler, and has silver eyes instead of brown. his ears are pointed but not as much as Virgil’s

Patton - Soft and Short and Round. Curly blonde hair, hazel-gold eyes.Tanner than either of the fey boys but not as tan as Roman, kinda cream-and-rose. Freckly boy. VERY short like Virgil’s shoulder max

Greta - taller than Patton but shorter than Logan, since you’re probably putting her next to Virgil she comes up to about his chin.very dark brown eyes. young Greta’s got black hair that obeys no mortal law or attempt to contain it to a single braid, she goes gray as she gets older and eventually white.

May Gage - Fucking Tiny, like 5 nothing. Long hair, when Roman’s younger its sort of pinkish from being red and white, but by the time of the main plot its all white. same green eyes as Roman. a little hunched over, walks with a cane but doesn’t use it in her own house usually. any picture that comes up when you google ‘Crone’ is probably a decent reference tbh

i hope these are helpful, let me know if you need anything more specific!

#love and other fairytales ask #laoft reference #notsotinyblob #ask

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link-sans-specs · 2 years

Text

I'm tellin' ya. Very impressive.

Mythical IGTV

Mythical Bits

How Many Ways Can You Say Snow?

#mythical bits #mythical ig #igtv #link neal #rhett mclaughlin #link avec specs #ocean blues #itty bitty silver wings #which totally match his shirt #this older video has a completely different coloring on it #i barely did any color adjustment #he's so pretty #sigh 🥰#my edit

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hey-hamlet · 5 years

Text

BNHA AU Ideas : Quirk Ranking (Parts 1 and 2)

Also on AO3!

TL;DR: Quirks ranked are ranked by risk level, these ranks are stored in chips placed right next to the brain stem. People on both ends of the spectrum are suffering, but its all for the sake of safety.

Right?

Part 1: Background

Ok so, the Quirk ranking AU

When you are born, you are given a chip. This chip can be read by scanners in places like shopping centres, government buildings, hospitals etc.

It will have a rank on it, as well as an ID number. ID numbers can only be read by government official scanners in government buildings, prisons, and the rank updaters

America, Japan, China and Dubai are the only countries to mandate chipping, most other countries have outright banned it and a violation of human rights. People from these other counties are given a traveller’s chip in a bracelet they need to keep on them at all times.

These chips open doors, literally. You can’t ride the train without one, can’t enter schools or hospitals or public areas. Removing your chip is seen as something only the worst villains do; like you’re trying to erase yourself from society.

Blanks and Metallics have the highest rate of villainy out of the other rankings, but metallics and blanks are very rare overall. Still, it doesn’t help their perception and these numbers are touted frequently by chipping supporters.

Quirk ranking isn’t objective! Quirk ranking is often influenced by the bias of the doctor, like All might’s quirk being ranked low because he was so nice and heroic, and Shinso’s being ranked too high because the doctor was scared of it.

About the ranks

Blanks (5% of Population)

Just called blanks or quirkless. Its what everyone’s chip reads unless/until their quirk comes in some “high risk” areas will deny entry to blank chips because of “risk”. Because everyone thinks of blanks as kids, not the quirkless, these laws are rarely disputed. Allowing entry of blanks into private businesses is a higher insurance cost so some areas can't afford to let the quirkless in, or use it as an excuse to turn them away.

It was originally the opposite, people with quirks were kept away from the quirkless because they were apparently an inherent risk. Propaganda from the times was along the lines of “You’d watch a tiger. Just because it hasn’t bitten anyone doesn’t mean it doesn’t want to” and “Chip them like the dogs they are.” This has been heavily covered up in recent years as an ugly part of Japan’s past.

Little kids celebrate getting their quirks in as they can now enter 90% of areas rather than 30%. Some places like arcades, gyms, dojos will ban blanks from entering full stop, no exceptions.

Colour Spectrum (90% total)

Blue/Purple (22% Population)

Non-threatening. Cant be used to harm people directly, includes a lot of animal mutant quirks and those without obvious offensive abilities.

Can be teased as kids but don’t tend to face any real discrimination (blues can be exceptions as some schools/jobs will find reasons not to hire them). If they become heroes they are typically children’s heroes.

The quirk doesn’t need to be weak to be ranked low, simply needs to have a low-risk factor, but many people view them as weak because they lack offensive capability. UA has been trying to change the entrance exam for years to allow these ranks to have a fighting chance but the heroic’s commission won't have it.

Green/Yellow/Orange (60% Population)

These quirks are very useful and the most well-liked, and least mistreated. Strong and simple to understand, medium risk. Easy to contain.

Most heroes are in this area of the rankings, but people with these quirks tend to do well whatever carrier they take.

Orange quirks are a little bit “scarier”. Either they are more difficult to contain or have uncomfortable aspects like mental quirks, blood control, etc. Still, they don’t tend to be treated badly.

Red (8%)

The start of the “Scary” quirks. These quirks are very strong, even from a young age and have inherently violent capabilities, but are still ranked low enough that they aren’t too feared, and there are no restrictions placed on their chips.

Kids with red quirks are the top dogs of the school. They get away with a lot too, with quirks strong enough to be hard to deal with but not so strong that 2 adults can’t control them.

Basically, the limit for this is “could 2 heroes take you out if you were a villain?” and if yes, it's red.

Reds sometimes have damaging backlash, often what keeps them out of bronze (i.e., navel laser)

Metallics (5% total)

Bronze (4%)

Now these quirks can do some damage, these are the start of the movement restrictions, but most in bronze view them as badges of pride. Bronze chips cant enter places like hospitals, daycares and nursing homes without taking quirk control classes. It's pretty common for bronze kids to take a week off in kindergarten to get them all out of the way so they can get their permissions updated.

There is a mix of fear and respect from bronze quirks, they are either seen as top dogs or villains in the making. Being a hero is a top job choice for people with this ranking.

All might’s quirk was ranked bronze when he entered the playing field, but many people theorise it should have been ranked gold. Still, All might helped the popular perception of metallics in the country, making them far more popular.

Silver (.8%)

These quirks aren’t popular. Heroics is seen as the only respectable career for them, even with quirk usage classes some hospitals won't let them enter. It’s rare they will be attacked due to their strength but people are often afraid of them, many bosses won't hire them because they “pose a risk”

Gold (.2%)

Same as silver really, very very rare.

Monochrome (So low it can’t be estimated, around 0.0000000001% of all quirks)

Black (???% - presumably more common than white)

There are no recorded black quirks in Japan so there are no current restrictions.

White (???% - presumably less common than black)

All for One is the first recorded white quirk in the world, and currently, the only person to hold such a rank.

Restrictions are extreme. No quirk scanners will let them enter, mostly just because the only person with a white quirk is a 200-year-old bogey man of a villain.

Most of the character's quirk's official rankings:

White: All for one, One for All (Izuku's time, with the addition of black whip + the other 6) Black: N/A Gold: (One for All at All Might's prime, but he never updated his quirk ranking) Silver: Half Hot Half Cold, Creation, Voice, Portal Bronze: Explosion, Dark Shadow (ranked for his poor control as a child), Mind Control (was only ranked this high because the doctor was prejudice), Overhaul, Fierce wings, One for All (All Might's Offical ranking) Red: Navel Lazer, Acid, Electricity, Twice, Mustard Gas, Blade Tooth, Compress Decay, Cremation, Muscular, Hell Fire Orange: Cement, Engine, Zero-G, Sugar Rush, Earphone Jack, Chronosatsis, Elasticity Yellow: Somnambulist, Blood Control, Harden, Transform, Magnesis, Blood Curdle Green: Frog, Clone, Dupli-Arms, Pop off, Mimicry, Air Jet Blue: Erasure, Tail, Tape, Foresight Purple: High Specs, AniVoice, Love Blank: (Izuku's original official ranking, Yagi's original official ranking)

Part 2: Plot

So Izuku has been ranked as blank his whole life, then he suddenly gets a quirk. All Might asks him when he's going to get his chip updated and Izuku looks at him with steel in his eyes.

“I’m not going to. I’m going to be the number one with a blank chip and show them how stupid their system is.”

Yagi is so proud of his boy and they have a cute little moment

On the day of the entrance exam, Izuku isn’t sure the doors will let him in, but they do thankfully.

When Izuku blasts the zero pointer into itty bitty pieces the teachers look at his file and share a “wtf” look with each other because this kid is meant to be quirkless.

After the quirk assessment, Aizawa asks Izuku about it and he sheepishly explains his quirk came in super late and that he wants to prove people with blank chips aren’t worthless.

Aizawa tries not to smile and tells him to hurry up and get better at controlling his messed-up quirk.

And Izuku does. He gets fully cowl before the sports festival because Aizawa throws a few tips around and it clicks a little earlier

Present Mic hears about Izuku sticking it to the ranking system and quickly decides this kid is amazing.

With his silver ranking, no other school would let him teach. He couldn’t visit Aizawa in the hospital after the USJ until he was moved from the ICU, and people always said he’d become a villain.

He knows silver restrictions are mild compared to blank but he empathises and is quietly cheering him on.

The only students in 1A that know he has a blank chip are Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki and Bakugo

Iida and Uraraka saw him get barred entry at a store and he had to sheepishly explain. He confessed to Todoroki at the sports festival. Bakugo has known him his whole life.

Well, that is until the licensing exams.

See, the doors lock on him. They won't let someone with a blank chip enter the exam. Izuku is crying a little because it's embarrassing and he doesn’t want the class to know.

In a show of solidarity that he’ll never admit to, Bakugo refuses to enter until Izuku is cleared to go in. When the rest of 1A find out about it, they refuse to enter as well. They stand shoulder to shoulder around Izuku daring the proctors to say anything rude to him.

After seeing this Inasa doesn’t go after Todoroki as hard in the exam, they manage to talk it out just prior to the last part, they still fail because they are both kind of out of it but they end the exam on good terms.

The heroics commission is on UA’s ass, pressing them into getting Izuku’s quirk graded because he's a “danger” and “a wildcard”

This pressure increased after black whip manifested during the camp attack, and after the villains kidnapped him and Bakugo

UA tries to shield Izuku from this as much as possible, only the first quirk assessment is mandatory and doesn’t need to be updated after the age of 6, it's optional after that. Izuku keeps seeing his mother throwing away important looking documents but he doesn’t ask why.

He overhears Ectoplasm telling Nezu and Aizawa it would just be easier to make him get his chip updated so the heroics commission stops threatening to pull their funding

Aizawa and Nezu are mad, and Izuku feels a little better but he still feels super guilty about the whole thing

The villains tried to play into the “you’ve both been mistreated because of your ranking” it doesn’t work at all.

By the time we get to the Overhaul arc, Izuku has manifested 4 of the previous holders’ quirks and the heroics commission is crying out for his chip to be updated, calling parallels to AFO but Nezu politely tells them to go fuck themselves.

Nighteye never once mentions Izuku’s blank chip and he's very grateful for that.

The 8 precepts are very interested in him, his multiple quirks and late manifestation may be able to help with the eradication of quirks.

The first time Izuku sees Eri, a chip reader in a store goes off because she doesn’t have one. He refuses to give her back to Overhaul, they take her back to Nighteye

Nighteye is furious until Izuku explains the girl doesn’t have a chip. That either means she has never been entered into the schooling/medical/government systems or its been illegally removed. He tells him he still shouldn’t have done that but it wasn’t a bad call.

That night, on his way back to UA, Izuku is taken by the 8 precepts.

They are furious and they know exactly how to ruin his life.

Using one of their contacts in the heroics commission, they get his chip updated to what the heroics commission thinks it should be.

Izuku wakes up, hurt and feeling violated and sore. He's covered in weird markings from Overhauls quirk but has no memory of it being used on him

Confused, upset and afraid he uses his quirk to run back to UA. Upon reaching the gate, it slams shut and alarms start blaring.

He breaks down sobbing.

1 minute later the staff of UA rush to the gate, expecting AFO to have broken out of prison for revenge. Instead, they see Izuku, covered in scares, battered with parts of his hero costume missing, sobbing on the ground.

Nezu checks his emails.

“Thank you for allowing us to update Midoriya Izuku’s ranking chip. His new ranking is: White. Have a nice day.

- The Heroics Commission of Japan”

#bnha au #bnha #midoriya izuku #aizawa shouta #All Might #eraserhead #Toshinori Yagi #Midoriya #aizawa #overhaul #nighteye #todoroki shouto #yoarashi inasa #uraraka ochako #Iida Tenya #eri #present mic #yamada hizashi #principal nezu

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