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tiramisuwithmascarpone · 16 days

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Hello! I'm a 15-year-old devotee of both Lord Hermes and Lady Aphrodite who is raised in an extremely Orthodox Christian household, and I would like to share my story with you ⋆˚ʚɞ

Hi! for safety reasons I will not use the name I usually use online for this account, but you can call me Jellyfish. I live in Eastern Europe, more exactly Romania, a country whose population is 98% devoted to Christianity at the time of speaking. My mother is a perfect example. She wholeheartedly believes in God, I grew up with pictures of him and the Holy Mary all over the walls, which I wouldn't escape even at my grandparent's houses. My house always smelled of myrrh, I would carry a picture of God everywhere I went, I would pray to him before bed, go to church on every holiday, but I never felt fulfilled or connected to him in any way. I didn't truly know what I believed in. My mother was telling me all about how should I praise God, but I don't think I ever did it because I wanted to or felt connected to what she was telling me or felt like it was the life I wanted to live. When she would fight with my father, even now, she would threaten that she would run away to a monastery and become a nun. She thinks you cannot change your religion and you can not be Christian if you were born with Christian parents and raised in that environment. I did not have faith in God because I wanted to and felt connected to his message and wanted to worship his divine being, I did it because my mother felt that way. And that destroyed me.

As I grew older, I started believing less and less in God. I was struggling with going through teenagehood, fighting my own inner battles, and dealing with friendship that slowly felt like they were taking away my lifespan, and it wasn't just that I didn't have faith in a divine being (which is completely alright. Please do not believe this monologue is Anti-Christian, I believe everyone is allowed to believe and worship the one who they feel most connected and inclined towards.) I didn't have faith in anything anymore. When my brother reached 15, he hated my parents for their beliefs. I will not get much I detail since his story is not mine to tell, but he had battled with alcohol and substance abuse. And I was his only shoulder for him and my parents to lean and cry on. My mother told me to pray for our family, she would pray to god every day, light up myrrh, take me to churches, and I would feel miserable. I felt like an imposter in that church. I truly wanted to have faith in a god, anyone, but I felt like my only choice was God since that's what my mother taught me. Both my parents trust God so I cannot be different, can I?

How foolish I was. I can only look back to my past self and wish to embrace and hold her till she cries all her sorrow out. She was so confused.

Back in 2022, I had first heard of Aphrodite. My brother was sent to a mental hospital for his substance abuse when they caught him on the verge of overdosing. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder after a suicide attempt, autism and ADHD, but my father (who already couldn't accept the fact that my brother has ADHD) fought with them saying they ,,don't know me well enough" and,,there's nothing wrong with me". And he's right, there's nothing wrong with me. Not even If I am neurodivergent. I was at my lowest, I felt disgusting, I fought with my parents and was their therapist every single day, I stopped going to school, I was a mess. But, I was heavily active on social media because I had tons of online friends. While scrolling on tiktok, I found a video of an Aphrodite devotee. My interest was piqued. I heard about Greek Mythology before but never actually researched it. I liked the video and commented, talking about how gorgeous their faith sounds, and that's when it all started. I started getting more info about Aphrodite, the swans swum by me every time I would go to the lake with my family so we could ,,get some fresh air". I started getting lots of pins on Pinterest with her. I always had a desire for water and the beach was my safe place, where I felt fulfilled and free from all I'm feeling. I had a Dove make itself a nest on a tree next to the window of my classroom which I would always sit by while having lunch (on the rare occasions I would drop by to school). I started researching more about Lady Aphrodite, loving her story, beliefs, ways of worshipping, how it felt like silence was washing over me when I would make a non-physical offering to her. Her tales. The way it felt like she was always there to give me a warm hug and squeeze me while I was crying. I also felt a boost in my confidence! I started loving my features, taking care of myself again, etc. It wasn't always just sun and rainbows, I would still have breakdowns and wish it would all just end and all that, but it was more bearable with her. She made my life more bearable. I love, worship, and adore Lady Aphrodite for that. I worshipped her till this year when I officially felt strong enough to devote myself to her.

This year, actually, I started noticing my strong connection to Hermes. I was always attracted to the kind-hearted, mischievous, kind-hearted, highly intelligent and funny thieves. I always idolized them and wished to be like them. That's how I feel about Lord Hermes. I feel like he was reaching out to me all my life. Everything he is associated with I had an inexplicable obsession with for pretty much all my life. Turtles, golden or silver, travel, learning new languages, astronomy, astrology, everything you could think of. I have been devoted to him since last month, that's when I officially started labeling myself as a Hellenic Pagan, but I am still a beginner, and I need to hide all of this from my mother since I am afraid of what she would do if she were to find out I have another belief since she reacted super badly back when I was an atheist :( I set up the first altar for Lady Aphrodite, and the second one for Lord Hermes. I always had been an artistic soul and loved making my room all pretty randomly so I told my mother this is one of those cases and she believed it. She does not know english and is not at all cultured about any beliefs besides Christians, Muslims, and Jews. They are both hidden in my closet. I feel very bad for not being able to make them a bigger and more obvious altar, I hope I'll have that chance when I move out from my parent's house..

I wanted to ask if Lord Hermes would be mad if my mom kept setting random things on his altar? she even put a picture of the Holy Mary. I moved it to the other side of the closet and made a DIY necklace for him out of orange garnet or beads to apologize to him, and he didn't seem mad, but I'm not sure...I sketched drawings of both of them and rested them on their altars. Everything you see are either offerings I heard they may like or things that reminded me of them! the little notebook on Hermes's altar is specifically made for learning new languages and thought he would enjoy it. Do you guys think any of my offerings are disrespectful? or should be removed? I'm open to any advice! Thank you for listening to my story <3

#aphrodite #aphrodite devotee #hermes devotee #hellenic pagan #hellenic #pagan #newbie

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 6 months

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on tonight's episode of 'crushes with beefcake'... - nate mack

dad!nate x f!reader

summary: josh has some questions and nate jumps at the opportunity to tell a little story of his own

warnings: swearing, mentions the death of a grandparent, fluff (psa this is just a little palette cleanser fic thing, i had inspiration and i ran with it)

word count: 5.9k

It wasn’t very often that your son called a family meeting. In fact, in the entire history of people that had called a family meeting (excluding little Leyla), he’d never called a family meeting. He frowned upon them. Groaned at the words and sulked the entire way through them – as most ten year olds probably did.

Which was why, after putting him to bed and after you and Nate had both wandered back downstairs to watch a film, it was a shock to hear a pair of determined footsteps echo down the stairs with a clear purpose. The only thing more shocking was when he stood in front of you both, brows knitted together and a nervous frown on his face, and the words “I want to declare a family meeting right now” tumbled out of his mouth.

You’d blinked and Nate had sat up, removing his legs from where he’d draped them across yours. And when Josh turned around and strolled into the dining room, dragging a chair back out behind him, you shared a curious look with Nate – who looked as though he couldn’t decide if he should laugh or be worried.

And then you had to swallow a laugh and put on a serious face when Josh placed the chair in the middle of the living room, facing the both of you and lacing his hands together.

“It feels like we’re about to get therapized by our kid.” Nate muttered under his breath, and you swore you could feel your mom-face slip for a moment.

“Or it’s an intervention. Did we do something wrong?” You whispered back.

You felt Nate pause and then tense.

Josh was oblivious, trying to adjust his seating position on the chair to find a comfier one, and probably also trying to stall because of the suddenly tense atmosphere that had enveloped the room.

Nate shuffled closer to you, his bicep and thigh touching yours, partly to reassure himself and partly to get closer so he could whisper into your ear without the risk of being heard, “What if he heard us?”

You inhaled, your stomach dropping unpleasantly. It had been one of your fears as a parent – the idea of scarring your kid in that way was absolutely mortifying. You had friends that had unfortunately experienced it, and there were a few choice words thrown around, so even the mere thought that Josh could have…it was enough to make you squirm uncomfortably.

“Nate.” You whispered, your tone causing him to whip his head towards you, a crease now prominent on his forehead, “If that ever happens, I give you permission to divorce me for trauma to the kids, okay?”

Upon hearing your words and realising they weren’t as serious as you’d initially made them sound, Nate’s face broke into a soft grin, thumb coming up to lightly brush under your eye, “For future reference, I’d much rather pay for their therapy than ever even think about divorcing you.” And he pressed a cheeky kiss against your lips as a way of sealing the promise.

“Ahem.” Josh coughed pointedly, and both you and Nate spun to look at him, feeling an awful lot like you’d been caught in a forbidden act of affection – which was pretty ridiculous considering the fact that it was at the hands of a gobby ten-year old.

Nate’s hand fell naturally on your leg, draped across your knee and curling around the top of your shin as you both turned your full attention to your son. Josh was pretty tall for his age, every bit of Nate’s build as he possibly could be. It was that, paired with Nate’s eyes and mouth that sometimes had you doing a double-take when you looked at him. It was like looking at a younger version of Nate again, back when you were both in school – not that Nate had stuck around for too long.

And you were reminded of that when Josh took charge of the entire room, and how similar it was to that funny expression Nate used to wear at his age, and even to this day – before games, dad-duties, serious conversations. It was their concentration face.

“He’s kinda scary–”

“Are you two done flirting now?” Josh interrupted, throwing Nate an unimpressed glance as his eyes darted between the two of you with about as much disdain for parental affection as he could possibly muster.

You swallowed, trying not to laugh and partially succeeding, and slowly pushed Nate’s hand off your knee. Josh’s eyes closely followed your movements, looking rather pleased with your reaction, and you could feel Nate’s disappointed glare burn the side of your face. It seemed to diminish in intensity somewhat when he caught the stifled twitch of your mouth as you wrestled with a smile.

“We weren’t flirting–” Nate denied, shaking his head and bumping your knees together – compensation for not being able to actually have a hand on you at this particular moment in time.

“I ordered a family meeting, excluding Leyla.” Josh groaned, hands on his cheeks in a show of hopelessness and frustration, “That means I’m the Head Judge, I get to make the rules, and Rule One is now no flirting–wait, Mom, where’s the Wooden Hammer Thing?”

You pushed yourself off the sofa, wandering into the dining room and picking out the gavel from one of the shelves and walking back into the living room to see Nate scratching his head with red cheeks and Josh sitting scarily chipper on the chair, hand out awaiting his Wooden Hammer Thing.

“It’s a gavel.” Was all you said, a little hesitant to say much else out of fear of…Josh’s unexpected wrath, “What happened?” You pointed the gavel between them both, slightly concerned for Nate when he shook his head, clearly embarrassed at something.

“Dad was watching you walk away and I set a new rule because it was annoying me.” Josh shrugged, taking the gavel from you.

“What rule is that?” You asked, intrigue skyrocketing when Nate pushed himself towards the far end of the sofa, as far away as humanly possible as he could get away from you in such a small space.

Josh sighed, “I’ll paraphrase because I need to talk about something important. Basically, no horny behav–”

“No what now?”

“Where did you even learn that word?”

You and Nate spoke at the same time, you with confusion, and Nate with a hint of outrage as his eyes remained fixed on Josh, who, for the first time since he’d come back downstairs, was looking sheepish. His cheeks were a little red and he was grinning rather shyly, shoulders curling in on themselves.

“It was on TV the other day, someone said it.” Josh shrugged, before noting the still evident look of mild horror on both you and Nate’s face, “And I Googled it because I didn’t know what it meant.”

“No, don’t Google it!” Your hand covered your mouth, images and words that he could have seen flashing in your mind – images and words that no ten year old should ever be subjected to, ever.

And to think Nate was worried about being heard? Why did kids have to be so good with technology and Google nowadays? When you were Josh’s age, YouTube was a dating site, so to think..

“It’s okay, I didn’t click on pictures.” Josh pulled a face, “The words were enough.”

There was a sputtering sound from the other end of the sofa, and you turned to find Nate also with his hand over his mouth, failing to hide a snort of laughter despite his earlier complaints. It seemed to die out, though, when he saw the identical way you and Josh were looking at him: with a hint of amusement and a tad of impatience.

He coughed, clearing his throat and straightening, “Sorry. Got something stuck in my throat.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, patting him on the leg (because even if he tried to move to the other end of the sofa, with the way he’d spread his legs, you barely even had to lean over to reach him).

“Whatever you say, Beefcake.” Josh muttered under his breath, and your hand stilled on Nate’s thigh, face freezing.

You didn’t have to look at Nathan to feel the piercing way he tilted his head to glare at you out of the corner of your eye, frustration clearly written across the panes of his face, “You created that.” He muttered, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he moved back over to you, his arm resting against the back of the sofa.

You said nothing, just resisted a smile and leaned against Nate’s arm, relishing in the way he draped it against your shoulders, drawing you against his chest.

There was a brief flicker of hesitation when you leaned fully into him, wondering if this was the so-called ‘horny behaviour’ that Josh had ruled out of the meeting, but when he looked back up from where he’d been picking a strand of hair off his Penguin’s pyjama top, he didn’t say anything. Just sighed a little, and shook his head, like it was pointless trying to get you to adhere to his rules in the first place (which it was – Josh was the one treading in uncharted waters: it was nine pm on a school night – a time strictly reserved for unwinding with Nate on the sofa).

“Okay,” Josh began, back straightening, “I gather you here today–”

You could feel Nate’s stomach tense and a shaky breath be exhaled in an effort to not break.

“To talk to you about something.” Josh took a deep breath, “It’s something I hold very close to my heart, but it means I have to ask you for help and questions because…” he shrugged, snapping out of the role somewhat, “in all my life, I’ve never not known how to talk to a girl.”

Oh.

Nate stopped laughing, and you felt your eyes widen in surprise.

“Mom, Beefcake. I got a crush.” Josh slowly slipped off the chair, landing on his knees and holding his hands up to the sky, a pained expression on his face.

“I don’t know where he gets that from.” Nate muttered, gesturing to the dramatised scene occurring realtime in front of you.

“I think that’s just him.” You nodded along, suppressing a smile.

Josh returned back to his seat, smiling innocently and like he hadn’t just cried to the heavens, and you wanted to take him off the chair and sandwich him between you and Nate.

Gosh, he’d grown up too fast. You could have sworn only last week you were bringing him home from the hospital, and now he was getting penalties for roughing in his games and asking how to talk to girls.

You scooted over, patting the space between you and Nate, “Come on.”

Josh rolled his eyes and fashioned a groan but followed you anyway, throwing himself down and eliciting a huff of pain from Nate as he half-sat on him.

“Okay,” you started, hands going to stroke through his hair, “tell us about why you need help with this crush.”

Josh practically reddened under your gaze, crossing his arms and swinging his feet – like he instantly regretted even bringing it up – but you applauded his bravery. Your mom had to pester crushes out of you because you were so scared if you told someone that the crush in mention would somehow hear you whisper their name.

“Her name’s Aimee, she sits behind me in class. I’ve tried talking to her, but she’s kinda quiet and I think I intimidate her a bit because…I’m not quiet.” He mumbled, fingers absentmindedly picking at his sleeve, “And I don’t want to scare her off.”

Your heart squeezed a little, and you were at a loss of what to actually say. You’d never been in that position before, usually the roles were reversed: you were the quiet one crushing on the louder person. Naturally, your eyes fell to Nate, who, it seemed, had got something in mind and had already been looking at you.

He was smiling like he knew something you didn’t, and you furrowed your brows, questioning his motives when he looked back down towards Josh.

“I’m gonna tell you something that I think’ll help.” Josh peered up at Nate, something akin to hope and excitement lingering on his face as he watched Nate talk, “When I was your age, maybe a bit younger, I had a massive crush on this girl. She was in a couple of my classes in middle school, and she was quiet. She didn’t put her hand up to answer any questions, even though she should’ve because she knew all the answers anyway – and I thought she was the prettiest girl in school by far–”

“What was her name?” Josh interrupted, frowning slightly.

“That’s not important.” Nate shook his head, “Anyway, in one of my classes in particular, we were assigned seating plans, and she sat on my table, with two other people. And I’d never spoken to this girl in my life, so all I knew was that she was pretty, pretty smart, and pretty shy. And it took me a couple of weeks to even ask her for the time–”

“No way.” Josh muttered sarcastically, and Nate frowned at him, bottom lip sticking out.

“I’m tryna help you.”

Josh blinked, “Get to that part, then. You’re just spewing words.”

Nate pressed his lips together, meeting your eyes across Josh’s head with a straight-faced look. You didn’t pay it much attention – in all honesty, you were trying to figure out this mystery crush he’d had. Nate had been a pretty known person when you guys were in school, what with his hockey and everything, but even despite that he’d always been pretty tight-lipped about his middle school crush, and it had always felt a little silly to keep pestering him about it, so you just…left it.

“Fine.” Nate continued on, one hand reaching out to grasp yours, even as he turned his attention and focus back on Josh. His grip was tight, cool wedding band a nice contrast to your warm hands, and you tuned back into what he was saying, “And once this girl got used to the people she was sitting with, she started talking, and it turned out she was pretty funny. She used to say these things under her breath that only the table could hear, and we’d either all get a telling off for laughing, or we’d all know the answers to the questions.” Nate sighed, “Then the entire table got split up because we were distracting everyone.”

Something in the back of your mind seemed to click at that moment.

The same moment Josh spoke up, “Then what?”

“Then we left school and moved away.” Nate shrugged.

Josh pushed himself up off the sofa, arms crossed, “How’s that supposed to help me?”

In any other situation, you would’ve turned to Josh, tried to calm him down or say something reassuring, but you couldn’t quite pull yourself away from the crinkles in the corner of Nate’s eyes, or the way that he was still smiling like he knew something no one else did. Your mouth parted unconsciously at his words, and your brain went blank. His hand was still tangled with yours, squeezing every so often.

“Because eventually she opened up, and I didn’t have to change anything about me for that to happen. It just takes time, and she has to learn to trust you and be comfortable around you.” Nate continued, either ignorant or choosing to ignore the way you were intent on just staring rather awe-strickenly at him, “I’d also say it was a minor character misjudgement from me, because it turned out she was just quiet around people she didn’t know very well. She liked to sit and observe before chipping in.”

Josh was quiet for a second, deep in thought, and you took the opportunity to use your free hand to poke Nate in the cheek. Once, twice. He caught your hand, bringing it to his lap, and almost as though he was purposefully trying to drive you crazy, he reached for your leg, hauling you across the space Josh had just left. All without paying you a single scrap of attention.

“So I just have to be patient?” Josh asked, a rather dumbfounded look on his face.

You turned your attention back to your son, curling into Nate’s side again and feeling rather smug.

“Yeah. Maybe dial the noise down, though, let her know you’re paying attention to her instead of shouting to your friends, or interrupting.” Nate pressed a kiss to your head, a hand going to cover your mouth as you opened it to say something.

Josh caught the action, raising a brow in your direction, “Sounds doable. Did you break Mom, or something?”

You nodded, and you could feel Nate shake his head.

Josh looked unconvinced, so you licked Nate’s palm, attempting to pry it away from your mouth so you could defend yourself, but he’d clearly expected that kind of retaliation because he breathed a laugh, momentarily tightening his grip to prove he wasn’t fazed.

Josh took a few steps forward, reaching for Nate’s arm, “Can you unhand Mom, please? She wants to say something.”

Nate let go, still keeping an arm around you but resting his opposite arm on the side of the sofa, head in his hand and looking at you with a knowing smile.

You inhaled, “He’s not telling you the whole story.” You pointed an accusing finger at Nate, and Josh gasped.

“Beefcake! How dare you deny your son the truth?”

Nate laughed, but didn’t elaborate.

“Ask him what happened after.” You encouraged Josh, nudging your head back towards Nate.

Josh peered at you, mouth curved downwards in befuddlement, “He said nothing else happened.”

“Ask him again.”

“Dad.” Josh started, eyeing you cautiously out of the corner of his eye, “What happened after?”

Nate glanced at you, eyes darting to the sparkling bands on your left hand, before settling on Josh, who still hadn’t quite moved from where he’d folded his arms.

“I moved to Minnesota for a bit, then back home when I was sixteen. Then Colorado when I was seventeen or eighteen,” he pulled a face, not too bothered on the specifics, “And then about six years later, I came back home one summer and saw her standing in the ready meals aisle of a superstore, looking just as beautiful as the day I left – and still the prettiest person I ever laid eyes on.”

Josh glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, uncertainty clear – he couldn’t tell whether to run to your defence and interrupt Nate’s spiel, or let him carry on. And you gathered that from your clear lack of upset, that he chose the latter.

“You have to know that it took some guts and I gave myself a bit of a pep talk, but I went up to her, introduced myself and she remembered me–”

“Dad, you were literally an NHL player.” (And Josh returned with the reality check.)

“She remembered me, and I asked if she wanted a drink and she said yes.” Nate finished, leg kicking out to poke his foot against Josh’s leg for interrupting him – but the younger MacKinnon was still looking rather lost on the entire subject.

“What then?” He pressed, yet again throwing you another worried glance, to which you simply grabbed his hand and pulled him to sit on your knee — he didn’t fight it like you expected, just put his arm around your neck, his hand resting comfortably against Nate’s forearm, and placed his head on your shoulder, yawning softly.

“Three years later I asked her to marry me and she said yes. And now,” Nate smirked, “we’ve been happily married for nine years, and have two beautiful children called Josh and Leyla.”

You felt Josh sigh against your collarbone, “I don’t want to play the long game, Dad. Not like that.”

You fought a grin at Nate’s drop in expression. You could tell he’d been expecting some blown out reaction of ‘wow’ or ‘wait, that was you and Mom?’, and the lack of thrill from Josh had clearly knocked his confidence a little, because he shifted, pulling a face.

“If I hadn't played the long game, you wouldn’t be here.” He reasoned, eyes flicking to you.

Instead, Josh lifted his head up, looking you dead in the face with your husband’s eyes, “Did you have a crush on Dad in school?”

You hesitated.

Nate mock-gasped, both hands flying over his mouth, even though you knew he already knew that little smidge of information.

“You didn’t?” Josh asked, recoiling slightly, “Then why did you tell me this story? I thought you were supposed to be inspiring me, not tearing me down and stripping me of my confidence?” He questioned, clearly appalled.

You laughed, “Okay, you gotta bear in mind that the first time I met your dad was on that class table. And it was only about four weeks until we were moved around again, and then he left to go to Minnesota, so he didn’t have time on his side at all.” You took a breath, “Or a pair of balls, apparently—”

Josh cackled at Nate’s expense.

“I can’t believe—” Josh giggled, “that you were literally in love with Mom, a-a—” he practically dissolved into a boneless heap in the middle of you and Nate, hand clutching his stomach, “and she didn’t even know you existed.”

“That’s not true.” You objected, “I knew Na—your dad existed, I just…Look.”

Josh dove into another fit of giggles at your struggle.

“If your dad hadn't talked to me in that one class as much as he did, he wouldn’t have left a good enough impression or given either of us a reason to catch up with each other all those years later. And when I saw him again, y’know, we’d both grown up. He was…This is probably gonna gross you out, but your dad was fucking hot when he came home—”

“Mom, language!” Josh scolded, a grin on his face.

“And he was polite, kind, funny, and impossible not to fall in love with. So, no, I didn’t really have a crush on him in school. I liked him, for sure, it had crossed my mind that he was cute, but it just wasn’t our time then.” You cringed internally (who’s time really was it at ten years old?), “But I definitely had a crush on him as a twenty-four year old adult.”

“Did that mean Dad was pretty much just, like, full-on in love with you at that point?” Josh queried, glancing between you both.

You looked at Nate, taking in his excitement at telling the story. You’d talked about it before, in hypotheticals just before you got married, about what your kids would think of the story of how you guys met. It wasn’t particularly exciting, there were no big confessions of love in the rain, or jealous exes, or miscommunications. It was simple, quiet and calm. Like turning on a light in the dark.

And it didn’t take an expert to be able to find the way that happiness seemed to pour out of Nate. He practically glowed with it. His eyes were wide and he hadn’t stopped smiling, and it was clear he’d been planning this conversation for a while: the keeping you in the dark thing was a welcome surprise, entirely shocking on your end, but you could tell he was just being honest.

“I wasn’t full-on in love with Mom at that point,” Nate squeezed your hand, “I was maybe a little bit in love, and part of that was because she was wearing a Halifax Mooseheads t-shirt when I saw her again.”

“What was the other part?” Josh quizzed, eyes a little heavier.

“That after one conversation I liked her even more than I did when we were in school, which I didn’t even think was possible.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, “Don’t listen to him–”

“What? It’s true.” Nate interjected.

Josh watched the two of you bicker for a few seconds, a slow smile on his face. It wasn’t very often that you and Nate could really show him this was what you were like, between Leyla’s nappies, Josh’s hockey, Nate’s hockey, your job, household chores – the MacKinnon household was busy. The only time all four of you seemed to be in the same room at the same time was the occasional dinner and weekend, and even then it was a rare occasion.

“You guys are just really big kids with really big crushes on each other.” Josh muttered quietly, shrugging at his realisation.

You stopped, words dying on your tongue as you took in what Josh had said. Then you looked at Nate – who seemed to be nodding without even realising it, “Yeah. Yeah, it kind of is.”

Then Josh shook his head, “So why can’t I believe what Dad says?”

“Because even after all of that, I made the first move. And said ‘I love you’ first–”

Nate guffawed from behind you, flicking your ear, “That's only because you made me nervous and I didn’t want to scare you.”

You tilted your head curiously at him, and judging from the way Nate’s eyes seemed to zip cautiously between you and Josh, you could only assume Josh was shooting him the same glance, “That’s pretty ironic considering I’m supposed to be the ‘quiet’ one.”

“You’re not that quiet, though, are you?” Nate teased affectionately–

“Is that a horny thing?” Josh scrunched up his nose, fidgeting uncomfortably and pulling a face like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, and you tried not to smile, shaking your head.

He was getting tired, you could tell. His attention was starting to dwindle, he was blinking sleepily, and you’d caught him trying to swallow a few yawns when Nate had been storytelling.

“No.” Nate frowned, “I just meant your mom isn’t quiet when you get to know her.”

You nodded, pushing yourself up off the sofa just as Leyla’s cries started to filter through the baby monitor next to Nate. Three pairs of eyes snapped to the small screen, and Nate picked the device up, turning to you and Josh with raised brows, “I’ll go check on her.” He ruffled Josh’s hair as he walked past, and you both watched him walk up the stairs.

Then Josh turned to you, eyes clearly struggling to remain awake for much longer.

“You know we’d never do any of that…um.” You hesitated, “Horny behaviour, in front of you.”

He nodded, yawning, “I know. I don’t mind the flirting, though.”

You swallowed, a little shocked by his revelation considering how much he seemed to protest against seeing it, “You don’t?”

“No, it’s nice to know you guys still like each other.” Then he huffed a laugh, “I had no idea you and Dad went to school together.”

You shrugged, placing a hand on the back of his head and nudging him towards the stairs. He went without complaining, turning back to look at you after your silence, “Well, I had no idea your Dad had a crush on me in school, so we both learnt something new tonight.”

“Wait, you didn’t?” Josh smiled, meeting you at the top of the stairs and peeking through Leyla’s door before following you towards his room.

“Nope.” You opened the door to his bedroom, facing an old trio of hockey posters that Nate had taken from his childhood room, “He might have played the long game, but I don’t think either of us would have changed it for the world. I mean, who knows, maybe if we’d have talked more in school, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Josh seemed to think about it as he climbed under his duvet, you choosing to lay at the foot of his bed as he made himself comfortable.

“When did you know Dad was the one?”

Your heart stuttered a little, and your words seemed to get tangled in your throat – momentarily caught off-guard by the question.

Truthfully, you weren’t aware there was a specific moment in time that made you stop and just know that Nate was the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. It had built up slowly as your relationship progressed; talks of the future were brought up pretty early on considering what he did for a living, and eventually it got to the point where you just knew that there wasn’t going to be a breakup or a break. That realisation had just planted itself into your head, that it was gonna end in marriage, and you couldn’t have honestly dreamt of anything or anyone more suited to you.

There was no one, and then there was Nate.

“If I had to choose, though,” you wondered aloud, eyes briefly glancing at the family photo Josh had chosen to have on his bedside table, “I’d probably say that I knew, or at least suspected that your Dad might be it, about four months into us dating. Neither of us had said ‘I love you’ at that point, because actually getting to know each other with your Dad’s schedule was pretty hectic and the timezones made it difficult, but my grandma passed away and I had to fly home from Montreal–”

“Because you were working there, right?”

You nodded, a bittersweet smile on your face, “Yeah. And I remember I left your Dad a message before one of his games, and when I landed back in Nova Scotia, there were missed calls, texts and one voicemail; I waited until I got back home to listen to it, and it said something along the lines of ‘I’m so sorry, I know how much she meant to you, blah, blah, blah, is there anything you need or something I can get your family?’ And I remember thinking, ‘What? Why would he be asking me all of that?’ And then I looked at my texts and there was information for a flight and it turned out he’d booked the earliest one he could after finishing his game.” You took a breath, slowing everything down, “I cried for most of the two days he stayed and looked after us all. By that point, we’d known each other for about a year, but we’d only been dating four months, and it was the first time he met my family and he was an absolute angel.” You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat at the memory of that period in your life.

“Did Grandma and Grandad like him?” Josh snuggled further under his duvet, stifling a yawn with his hand.

You opened your mouth, about to answer, when the bedroom door creaked open and Nate padded in through the door, flicking the overhead light off and turning the bedside lamp on as he took a seat next to you. His hand came to rest on your thigh, a welcome and reassuring squeeze, but his attention was on Josh, “I think that signals bedtime.”

You nodded in agreement, but Josh seemed to blink manically and sat up in bed, his covers falling around his torso, “But I have way more questions—”

“And you can ask them tomorrow.” You promised, running a hand through his soft hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Are you okay with Aimee, though?”

He nodded, cheeks reddening as he seemed to shrink into himself again, and you smiled at his cuteness, “Love you, sleep tight.” You whispered, pulling away and letting Nate have his turn as Josh whispered them back.

You slipped out of the room, heading into Leyla’s room at the other end of the hall, tiptoeing in to peer over her crib bars. Nate had settled her again, and she was laid on her back, blonde hair a wavy mess, fists curled shut near her head. Her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful zipped up in her Bambi onesie.

It was barely ten seconds later when you heard Nate’s steps creak the floorboards, his arms caging you in against the side of the cot as his front pressed against your back. His head came to rest on your shoulder, nose nudging the side of your cheek when you turned to face him.

“I can’t believe you had a crush on me in school, and you kept it from me for more than a decade.” You smirked, raising a smug brow in his direction as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“You mad?” He checked, no real concern in his tone as he fought to conceal the amusement in his eyes.

“No. Just shocked you managed to keep your mouth shut for so long.”

He rolled his eyes, “Well, it was worth it.”

“You’re a sap sometimes, y’know.” You nudged him playfully, “But I wouldn’t change it.”

“No?” He hummed, and you shook your head in response.

You knew he heard the entire conversation with Josh – it would have been hard not to, considering Josh couldn’t whisper for shit, and Leyla’s room was directly opposite, but there wasn’t a need to talk about it immediately. It was partly because you’d talked about it before – it was something you’d both discussed in a whisper after he’d proposed – and also partly because you’d gotten to the point in your life where Nate had perfected the ability of reading you at any given point, and vice versa.

And right now, you were both pretty content.

“Leyla’s gonna come home from school one day and start talking about crushes.” You whispered, watching him closely as he scowled, glaring at you out of the corner of his eye.

It made you smile, not wanting to laugh in fear of disrupting her sleep.

“I don’t even want to think about that.”

“It’s scary, right?”

“Terrifying. She’s my baby girl, I don’t want her to grow up.” He reasoned, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek.

You were both silent for a while, watching her eyelashes flutter mid-dream, and her little fists gently clench and unclench.

“I wonder what she’ll be like.” You whispered.

You felt Nate breathe a laugh against your neck, “Hopefully not like Josh, in the nicest way possible, I don’t think my patience could take it.” He teased, eliciting you a gentle laugh.

“Josh is one of a kind.” You shook your head fondly. He could be cute most of the time, but when he loses his patience or gets too cocky (or just refuses to do the things you ask of him), he can be a little menace — something Nate struggled to get a handle on at first.

They clashed a bit.

“It’s because he’s got your smarts—”

“But your fucking audacity.” You finished.

Nate gasped, a look of sheer disbelief written on his face, “That’s not true.” He denied, shaking his head.

“Your parents were the ones that said that.”

He quietened, lips pulling down in a frown as his eyes focused on something you couldn’t see, “Really?”

You nodded, “I mean, I’m paraphrasing, they actually described Josh as a ‘smart boy but with Nate’s bold cheek.” You snickered as he pulled another face, letting go of the railings and stepping backwards for the door, “Need some time to think about it alone?” You teased.

Nate nodded, eyes wide, “I’m just gonna go get changed.”

“M’kay, love you, Beefcake.”

“That one’s not come from me!” He hissed, smiling all the while, before disappearing from sight.

#nathan mackinnon x reader #nathan mackinnon oneshot #nathan mackinnon imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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multifandomsw · 10 months

Text

Apologies

Harry Styles x Reader

summary: After an encounter with your old best friend, she gave you her number to catch up. When you decide to send her a message, someone else replies. Was it destiny?

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol, Harry himself

author’s note: I feel like you’ll either like this or hate this. My writing is quite shitty, but who cares? Once again, a big thank you to @manrocket-mo who helped me out SO MUCH. I love our chats 🤭

Part 6

Apologies masterlist

“London is so beautiful.”, you breathed out as you and Lucy walked through the city, your arm linked with hers. You were absolutely mesmerized by the buildings and their architecture. London just felt different. Different in a good way. A deep contrast to the small town where you were from. It felt like the minute you landed in London, you were already feeling better, happier and safer.

“It is.”, Lucy smiled. You had met up with her a few times and got quite close to her. It was mostly her who spoke, but you began to open up to her too. She was really nice and seemed like a person you could trust.

A real friend. For once.

You had learned quite a bit about Lucy. She worked at her parent’s firm and earned very much money. She loved to spend said money, especially on clothes and bags. Lucy had just broken up with her boyfriend of four years a month ago and was currently living alone. She was an extrovert and loved the attention, but also liked staying at home and watch Netflix. Most importantly, she was a great friend. Lucy always listened to you and had never once interrupted you. She already cared about you and had even offered you to stay at her apartment.

You stayed at an old and cheap Airbnb until you found an apartment in London, which turned out not to be easy at all. They were either too expensive or way too small and nothing seemed fitting.

“Did you think about my offer?”, Lucy raised her eyebrows expectingly while you just sighed. “I wouldn’t even be able to pay the rent. It’s a very kind offer, but-“

“There’s no rent to pay.”, Lucy grinned at you. “It’s my apartment, I inherited it from my grandparents.”

“Lucy-“, you began, but she interrupted you quickly. “You need a place to stay at and I’d love to have a roommate. It’s been very lonely lately.”, she admitted and lowered her head.

How could you say no to that?

“Okay.”, you gave in. “But I’m gonna pay you. Somehow”

Lucy only rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

You: I found a place to stay at

H: You did? Finally!

You: Lucy offered me to stay at her place

You: After she begged me for days, I finally gave in

You: She’s a really great friend

H: I’m happy for you

H: How’s London?

You: You should know, don’t you live here?

H: I do, but I travel a lot with my band. I wish I could be in London more often

You: I wish we could meet up. Someday.

H: We will, I promise.

H: After finishing this tour.

You: What’s your band called anyway?

H: I’ll tell you soon enough

You: That’s so unfair! You’re always so secretive.

You: You even know what I look like

H: I promise you’ll find out

H: The time’s just not right yet

You: If you say so.

H: Cherry

You: No, I trust you. Like you said.

H: Thank you

H: So how’s London truly?

You: Absolutely mesmerizing!

H: It is :)

H: I have a few favorite places that I feel like you’ll like

You: Ohh that sounds promising, H

H: You should definitely go to Columbia Road Flower Market

H: It’s one of my favorite places ever

You: I didn’t know you like flowers

H: I love flowers, they’re beautiful

H: But I have to warn you

H: None of them will compare to your beauty

You: STOP

You: You’re making me blush

The first thing that you noticed as you walked into Lucy’s apartment was its smell. The sweet scent of vanilla filled your nose and immediate comfort washed over you.

It smelled just like Lucy.

You looked around and observed that the apartment was giant, yet the first word that came to your mind that would perfectly describe it was cozy.

The living room with its big windows was well lit and you noticed the sun peeking through the curtains. When you stepped forward, the sun hit your face and warmth spread through your body. You pushed the curtains aside and your eyes widened as you came into view with Big Ben. “Wow.”, you let out and took a picture.

“That’s not what I expected.”, you chuckled as your gaze moved to the piano in the corner of the living room. “Is this yours?”, you questioned, but Lucy only shook her head. “They are-“, she began, but stopped mid-sentence. “A friend of mine used to live here for a while. He never took his piano with him.”

You snorted. “Did you think about giving it back to him?”, you asked. “No, trust me when I say he has enough money to buy a new one. He probably doesn’t even realize it’s still here. Besides, I love practicing on it.”

“You play the piano?”, you wanted to know and Lucy chuckled. “I’m trying my best.”, she explained and led you to the guest room. “Here’s where you will stay.”

You grinned at her. The room was plain and only consisted of a twin size bed and a closet. But you would make it yours. Eventually.

You: 📷

You: You can see Big Ben from her apartment!

H: What a great view

H: Which reminds me..

H: 📷

H: This is the bookstore you told me about, isn’t it?

You: No way! I’m so jealous! I’ve been dreaming about visiting Shakespeare and Company FOR YEARS

You: Why are you in Paris??

H: My band has a small concert here today

You: Oh! Good luck!

H: Thanks, Chérie

You: Aww

You: Is Paris as beautiful as people say it is?

H: Even more beautiful

H: Everything reminds me of you

You: I’m smiling STOP

H: Then I’ll never stop

You: La ville de l’amour

H: The city of love indeed

You: And have you found love yet, H?

H: Yes

H: But not in Paris

You let out a giddy laugh, but clasped your hand over your mouth only moments later, hoping that Lucy hadn’t heard you as you had yet to tell her about H.

You looked around your new room once more, before you decided to put your clothes in the closet.

You opened the closet which was filled with some old clothes. One sweater in particular caught your attention. You almost let out a snort as you saw that it was an old One Direction sweater with their faces on it. “I didn’t know you were a One Direction fan.”, you laughed.

“What?”, Lucy called out and made her way to your room. Her face was filled with confusion, but when her eyes landed on the sweater, realization washed over her face. “Oh. I used to be a fan. Not anymore, though.”, she admitted shyly.

You only giggled in response. “I like it.”, you admitted and Lucy simply shrugged. “You can keep it if you want, I don’t wear it anymore.”

You grinned at her. “Great.”, you let out and buried your nose into the sweater. The scent instantly hit your nose. It smelled like a forest in spring after it had just rained, like fresh flowers and grass. It smelled like home.

And it most certainly didn’t smell like Lucy.

“He called again.”, Lucy complained and you looked up from your hot chocolate. You were sitting in a small café that H had told you about and you absolutely loved it. It was not too crowded, very cozy and affordable. You’d have to thank him later.

“Who?”, you raised your eyebrows and it was clear that you had not listened. “My ex!”, Lucy groaned and realization hit you. “He’s still calling you? That means he must care for you.”

Lucy let out a brutal laugh. “If caring for me means cheating on me with one of my closest friends, then yes.”

You pressed your lips together and lowered your head. “Oh.”, you let out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know-“

“No.”, Lucy interrupted you. “Not your fault-“, her sentence was cut short when a girl came up to you. She smiled at you and her eyes lit up. “Hey, aren’t you y/n? Can I take a picture with you?”, the girl asked sweetly and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. When you looked at Lucy, she only shrugged her shoulders. “How-“, you gulped. “How do you know me?”

The girl giggled. “You’re jesting. You’re all over the internet!”

“What?”, you let out and the girl looked at you quizzically before pulling out her phone and showing you some Tweets.

They were all about you. About the conversation you and Harry Styles had at his concert. Pictures of your face were all over Twitter, some were making fun of your appearance while other were speculating whether you and Harry Styles-

You couldn’t even finish the thought because it was so ridiculous. There was no world, no universe and no galaxy where Harry Styles, one of the most famous singers of your time, would like you. The people were jealous for no reason. It was so ridiculous that you almost let out a hysterical laugh.

Almost.

Because this was your worst nightmare. Your face was all over the internet. Everyone knew how you looked like, everyone saw your flaws, your insecurities. You hated it, you absolutely hated it and almost smashed the girl’s phone into the wall.

Almost.

“No, no. I don’t-“, you tried to stay strong, but the way your voice cracked at the end gave you away. “He just talked to me. I don’t even know him.”, you clarified and watched as the girl’s face fell. “Oh.”, she let out and left.

You tried to blink away the tears that were almost leaving your eyes.

Almost.

Before Lucy could even say anything, you packed your things. “Hey.”, Lucy began and you shook your head. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”, you let out, trying to convince yourself more than her.

“What just happened?”, she desperately wanted to know and your eyes locked with hers. She watched you with a concerned look on her face. “Harry Styles talked to me at the concert I was at and told you about. Which is, as a matter of fact, nothing special, he always interacts with his fans. But somehow, my interaction with him and my face is all over the internet.”

“Which is your worst nightmare.”, Lucy added and you nodded, letting a tear fall freely. “I hate the attention, the criticism.”

Lucy reached out and grabbed your hand. “The internet will forget, I promise. You have nothing to worry about.”, she tried to console you and you almost believed her.

Almost.

You didn’t leave the apartment for days. Because you were afraid. Afraid that people would recognize you and try to talk to you on the street, afraid that people would make fun of you.

Afraid of people.

It was quite lonely, but the Netflix shows and the smell of Lucy’s sweater, that you hadn’t taken off for days, distracted you and calmed you just a little.

You hated it. You hated that you were afraid. You hated that you cried yourself to sleep everyday. You hated that you even cared about it.

Sometimes you wished you could be just like Lucy. She wouldn’t care about those Tweets, she would be able to ignore them and never think of them again.

In your case, however, the Tweets were imprinted on your brain and would never leave it, regardless of what you tried.

Suddenly, your door opened and revealed Lucy with some clothes in her hand. “Hey.”, she greeted you. “Let’s get you out of bed.”

You groaned when she switched on the light. “What?”, you asked and she smirked at you. “We’re going out. I can’t see you moping around in your room any longer.”

“Going out where?”

“To the club.”, she explained as if you already knew about it. Lucy held out a black dress that you could already tell was quite revealing. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, no, no. We’re not going to the club.”, you refused, but Lucy looked at you with pleading eyes. “I haven’t made out with someone in ages. I need to get my mind off of my ex.”, she began, but you were not convinced yet. “Besides, the alcohol will make you forget about what happened.”

This. This sounded better. “It will?”, you raised your eyebrows in suspicion. “If you drink enough. Please. I can’t see you all sad anymore. I care bout you.”

This. This is where she had you. “Okay.”, you agreed and almost laughed when you saw the smirk on Lucy’s face.

“Stop fumbling with your dress!”, Lucy laughed and you simply groaned in return. “This can not be considered a dress anymore. It’s so short!”, you complained and Lucy shrugged her shoulders. “Might get you some attention. I don’t even know much about your love life.”

“There’s nothing to know. It’s non-existent.”, you explained as you both made your way to the bar and asked the bartender for something to drink. “We could change that.”, she giggled and you only rolled your eyes. “What? I mean look at you! You look great.”

You had to admit, you did look kinda good. She had put much effort into applying your make up and curling your hair. The outfit also did certainly not look bad on you.

Still, you felt ridiculous. This wasn’t you and you just didn’t feel confident in your skin, not like Lucy.

“Only because you want to get laid tonight, doesn’t mean I do.”

Lucy let out a gasp. “I never said-“, she stopped mid-sentence. “Well, I might have said that. But I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“You can. I understand that you want to forget your ex.”

You looked around and were reminded why you hated clubs so much. For once, it was filled to the brim and very hot. People were dancing on the dance floor without caring about the others. There was a lot of pushing and pulling and the air smelled like sweat. Just sweat.

The music was so loud that you could hardly even hear what Lucy said, or as a matter of fact what you said. But maybe Lucy was right. This would at least get your mind off of everything that had happened.

It was after your third drink that you felt the alcohol pumping through your system. The room seemed to be spinning and your giggles started to last a little longer than usual.

“I just- I’m so thankful that you took me out. I love getting drunk!”, you let out a giddy laugh and talked a little faster than usually. “After everything that happened. Especially at the concert.”, you continued and let out an exaggerated sigh.

Lucy, who was definitely not a light-weight like you, watched you in amusement. “What happened at the concert?”, she questioned. She knew that something must have happened, at least that’s what Harry told her. But he didn’t know what exactly took place.

“My old best friend and her boyfriend tricked me. He pretended to like me, and I didn’t know it was her boyfriend and asked me if I want to go to a concert with him. I agreed to, of course, because he even called it a date and who wouldn’t want to go out with a handsome guy, I mean how often do you get the chance-“, you were interrupted when Lucy cleared her throat. You were ranting.

“Right. Yes. Well, they showed up together and Lucy told said some mean things to me, like that Harry only talked to me because I’m so ugly and I even believed it, well believe it, because look at me? Why would Harry Styles talk to me? Well she said no one would ever like me and I kinda believe her because no one has ever liked me.”, your heart suddenly clenched in your chest at that memory. It all came crashing down again, your heartbreak, your insecurities, the feeling of not being good enough. The alcohol had made you happy, but you realized it was not enough yet. Before you continued, you took another large sip of your drink.

“I’m sorry-“, Lucy began, but as you felt the alcohol in your system again, you giggled. “No need to be sorry. I think someone likes me, well at least I like him. Funny story actually, I met this guy by accident because Jules gave me the wrong number. He’s so mysterious, it’s insane! I don’t even know how he looks like, but we’ve been writing for months and I really like him. Like like him. Maybe even more than liking him, I kinda have feelings for him and don’t say anything! I know that I don’t even know how he looks like, but he’s just so sweet and caring and he always send me pictures of things that remind him of me.”

Lucy bit her cheek and tried not to say anything, at least she had promised Harry not to. But this was good. Lucy now knew that you liked him too. Maybe not as much as Harry liked you, because he was basically obsessed with you, but quite a bit. She grinned at you. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

Harry was exhausted. He wasn’t exhausted because of his flight to London, though, no Harry was mentally exhausted because of you.

Well, not particularly because of you, but because of the fact that he felt you drifting away. It was Lucy that told him about a girl recognizing you, it was Lucy who told him that you stayed in your room for days, it was Lucy who you seemingly trusted more than him.

He wished it was him. He wished you would have told him all the things. Instead, you had pretended and acted like everything was fine, even after he had asked you multiple times.

Harry just wanted to help you, just wanted you to trust him. He wanted to call you his.

He began to resent his life, if he wasn’t Harry Styles, if he wasn’t one of the most popular singers, he could love you properly. He wanted to, so desperately wanted to tell you the truth. He even gave you a few hints here and there, but he was afraid. Afraid that you wouldn’t forgive him for lying to you.

“Harry?”, a voice interrupted his thoughts and Harry raised his head, shooting Sarah, who was sitting on Mitch’s lap, a confused look. “Hm?”

He could barely look at them. Not because he wasn’t happy for them, no, he was beyond happy for his friends, but because he craved what they had. He craved that deep, real and unconditional love they had.

“Your phone is ringing.”, she pointed to his phone that was lying on the table in front of him.

Harry only shrugged his shoulders, not even looking at the name on the screen. “Can’t be that important.”

Sarah shot Mitch a knowing look, before she spoke again. “This one might be.”

Harry sighed, but when he glanced down, his heart almost stopped.

Cherry.

You. You were calling him. Before he could even think, he picked up the call and held his breath for a second.

“Cherry?”, he whispered, keeping his voice down.

“H?”, your sweet voice answered and Harry’s heart surely stopped for a few seconds. He turned to Sarah with wide eyes, who only offered him a smile in return.

Before he could realize what he was doing, he was bolting out of the room and standing in the hallway of his apartment. “What- are you okay?”

“More than okay.”, you giggled and it was now that Harry noticed the loud music and people chattering in the background. “It’s just so unfair, H, I mean, I don’t know what you look like and I- I like you. It’s insane, you could look like a gorilla and I’d still like you.”, you slurred and Harry’s feelings were all over the place. For once, his heart was speeding in his chest at your confession. You liked him. You liked him. However, concern quickly overpowered the feeling of happiness shooting through his body.

“Are you drunk?”, he asked in distress.

“God- even your voice sounds hot.”

“Cherry, stop.”, he warned, his voice getting lower. You couldn’t distract him. Not now. Not when you were drunk and probably alone somewhere in London.

“Where are you, Cherry?”, he demanded, already running up to his room and putting on a black hoodie and sunglasses.

“Cherry?”, he tried again. “At a club. It’s so cool here! Lucy said it’s her favorite club.”

Harry let out a breath of relief. You were with Lucy and he knew what Lucy’s favorite club was. “But she’s away making out with a guy right now.”

Oh no.

No. No. No.

Harry quickly grabbed his car keys. “It feels so good getting drunk. Wait, let me order another drink!”

“Cherry?”

“Cherry! Hear me out. Stay were you are. I’m picking you-“, before Harry could finish his sentence, you hung up.

“Fuck!”, he let out before he stepped into his Ferrari.

The moment he stepped into the club, the hot air hit him. For a second, Harry regretted wearing a thick hoodie. But then he remembered that he had to. He didn’t want to get recognized, especially not today.

Harry scanned the dance floor for you, suddenly reminded of when he did the same thing at his concert. Searching for you in a crowd of people. He had found you back then and he was confident that he would find you today.

His eyes trailed to the bar where he saw a figure talking to the bartender-

The moment he saw you, everything else suddenly didn’t matter anymore. He forgot about the people around him, about the loud music, about the way he was sweating furiously.

Harry could only stare at you. You were wearing a black dress that was hugging your body perfectly. Your hair was curled and god-

Your smile. It was contagious. He let out a small laugh himself.

Until he realized who your smile was directed to.

Before he could even realize what he was doing, he was walking up to you and gently grabbed your arm, instantly gaining your attention.

You turned around to him quickly and Harry was absolutely mesmerized. God, he was so enraptured by your beauty. Your eyes were a bit glossed over, but shining nonetheless. Your cheeks were a slight pink color and he had to fight the urge to cup them with his hands. His eyes moved down to your lips, only once, but it was enough for him to know that he wanted to kiss you. Right then and there. He wanted to feel your smooth lips moving against his-

“Hi!”, you giggled and Harry could swear it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He had to shake his head and gather his thoughts again, remembering the reasons why he was even here.

Harry gulped. “Hey.”

“Are you my boyfriend?”, you tilted your head to the side, admiring his features.

Harry bit his cheek, hard. He wished, with every fiber of his being, that he could say yes. He wished that you were his.

“No.”, Harry admitted defeatedly. “Not yet.”, he added quickly.

“Oh.”, you answered and reached out to take off his sunglasses. The moment your fingers touched his face, Harry could feel a spark.

Your eyes met his and he saw how your face changed into something different. Adoration maybe?

“I’m sad you’re not. You are so beautiful.”, you breathed out and it was the end for Harry. He wanted to fall to his knees and ask you to marry him right then and there.

No one had ever called him beautiful before. Not to his face.

He let out a chuckle and lowered his head as he felt the blush creeping up his face. You would be the death of him.

Harry shook his head, trying to get rid off his thoughts.

His eyes moved away from your face and to the drink next to you. He could practically feel the men watching you and he was more than happy that no one had approached you yet. “Hey, you should keep your drink in your hands and don‘t look away from it. There are many vile men who would take advantage of that.”, he explained and you nodded. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.”

“Sorry.”

Harry sighed. “Where’s Lucy?”

“Oh.”, he watched as your face lit up. “You know Lucy?”, you squeaked out. “She’s great! Well, she’s probably in one of the bathroom stalls having sex-“

“Okay. We’re gonna stop right there.”, he interrupted you and bit his lip. “How about this: you’re gonna stay right where you are and I’m going to find Lucy. Then I’ll bring you home. How does that sound?”

He watched as you hesitated for a second, but then gave in. “Okay, stranger.”

It was minutes after that he found Lucy in a quiet corner making out with some guy. “Lucy.”, Harry called out and Lucy stopped kissing the guy. “Hm?”, she let out and her eyes widened when she saw Harry.

“Harry? What are you doing here?”, she wanted to know as the guy kissed down her neck. “This is not a good time.”, she continued, but when she saw Harry’s stern face, she knew she was in trouble and who this was about.

“Why would you take her to the club and leave her alone completely drunk? God knows how many drinks she had.”, Harry argued.

“She can take care of herself.”, Lucy shrugged her shoulders.

“Lucy.”, Harry repeated. “She hates clubs. She absolutely hates them. You should know this. How did you even get her to go with you?”

Lucy smirked at Harry. “I told her she could forget her troubles if she gets drunk.”

It took a lot of self control for Harry not to shout at Lucy.

Harry’s delicate heart, though, squeezed in his chest. You’d rather get drunk than talk to him, to H, about what had happened?

You meant so much to him, but Harry started to doubt if you even liked him back. “She could have talked to me!”

“I can’t believe you left her alone at the club! You should’ve stayed at her side instead of-“

“Harry.”

“No, you should’ve-“

“Harry.”, Lucy repeated and it was only then that Harry stopped, his eyes following hers.

Great. Someone was trying to talk to you.

“This is not over.”, he hissed out, before he made his way to you. A guy, probably a head taller than him, was leaning dangerously close to you.

Harry softly called your name, your real name, before he put his arm around you. “Stay away from my girlfriend.”, he warned and the guy put his hands up in surrender before leaving. “I thought you weren’t my boyfriend.”, you acknowledged as your eyelids grew heavier. “He simply wanted to talk to me!”

“Oh, trust me, he didn’t.”

“Can you stand?”, Harry asked and you nodded your head confidently. “Of course I can! Why wouldn’t I-“, as you took your first step, your body swayed and you fell into Harry’s arms.

Harry laughed and slung his arm around you. “Doesn’t look like it.”, he chuckled as he led you to out of his club and to his car.

“I promise you can trust me. I know Lucy. I’ll bring you home safely, okay?”, he stated. “Okay.”, you answered tiredly as you got into the passenger seat. Harry leaned over you, buckling you up before he got into the driver’s seat and started the car.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Harry glanced at you and saw how the moonlight perfectly illuminated your face. You looked like an angel. It was hard. So hard to keep his eyes on the road when he just wanted to look at your face.

“No.”, he scoffed.

“Why not?”

Harry hummed. “It’s complicated.”

“Soooo..”, you began. “Are you in love then?”, you asked and Harry grinned, his dimples very much evident on his face.

“I think I am.”, he started, but found the statement not quite fitting. “I know I am.”, he continued. “Are you?”

“It’s complicated.”, you mimicked his earlier words and Harry only rolled his eyes.

“Oh, complicated?”, he raised his eyebrows and reached out to turn on the radio.

He stopped breathing when he heard the first tunes of his own song, of Cherry, starting to play.

“No, not that song. Can you switch channels?”

His heart broke right then and there, but he changed the channel nonetheless. “What’s wrong with the song?”

Harry spared you a glance and saw that you were at the brink of tears. He reached down to hold your hand in his, but you quickly pulled away to wipe away your tears.

“It just reminds me of bad things. Everything Harry Styles related does. I mean he’s a great singer but I can’t stand to listen to his music anymore- hey! Did you see the bird?”

Harry let out a shaky breath, his heart squeezing in his chest. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. Cherry used to be your favorite song, he added it to the set list because of you. It had slowly become his favorite song, too.

“I’m so exhausted.”, you whined, but Harry let out an annoyed sigh. “I know, but you need to change. Sleeping in this dress will be so uncomfortable-“, he began, but stopped mid-sentence when he saw that you were slowly closing your eyes.

“Great.”, he whispered, not sure what he should do. “Okay. Breathe, Harry. Pretend this is one of your friends.”, he tried to assure himself, looking at your sleeping face while he unzipped your dress. He slowly pulled the dress down, keeping his eyes on your face and not looking down once. Harry took off his hoodie and the shirt he wore underneath it before he helped you put on his shirt. The way Harry tried to put on the shirt without looking down would probably be a bit awkward to watch, but Harry managed to do it anyways.

Harry draped the blanket on you and tucked you in properly before he sat down next to your bed and let the breath he had been holding out.

He felt like his insides were being squeezed together, like someone had taken all his air and he could barely breathe. His heart was beating impossibly fast and he was aware of his sweaty palms.

“H.”, you mumbled and Harry’s eyes widened. “Y/n?”, he whispered, but your eyes were closed. Were you.. dreaming about him?

Harry knew that he couldn’t watch you forever, that he’d eventually have to go, but he didn’t want this moment to end. He wanted to watch you forever.

He brushed some of your hair out of your face before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to you forehead, his lips lingering maybe a bit too long. “I’ll always take care of you, I promise.”

taglist: @st-ev-ie @hsstylesrings @bubblespower101 @ravisinghs-wife @mopeymousey @shishcabobsworld @stylesfever @valntynebaby @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @harryspirate @xxlunathewitchxx @hannah9921 @fingermonkey101 @amateurduck @babyiamperfectforyou @ravisinghs-wife @creativelyeva @fanficismydrug @manrocket-mo @crimeshowjunkie @lomlolivia @pagesfalling @harryssky1 @buckybarnessimpp @melancholy-help @annesauriol @tea-and-toast463 @sheslikeacurse @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @white-wolf-buckaroo @itsgigikay

#harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 5 months

Note

I know they’re NPCs we never see in canon, but do you have any headcanons for both sets of Harry Potter’s grandparents?

Well, there's things that make it into fics, though I'm not sure they really count in the fact that if people wanted to argue with me I'd just shrug and a lot of them are because it's useful for one story or another.

That said, we do know/can infer quite a bit about both sets even though we never see them. This is a lot like the Alphard Black case in that @therealvinelle and I subscribe to what we can infer/what makes for the best character for our purposes.

Euphemia and Fleamont Potter

We know a few things about James's parents without even venturing into the nebulous and hilarious realm of Pottermore. First, they died before Harry reaches the age of eleven and finds out about the wizarding world. Second, they took in Sirius when he ran away at sixteen, he canonically went to live with James and Sirius cited no friction with the Potters. Third, James is their only son. Second, James married Lily Evans, a Muggle-born. Fourth, there's no pictures of Harry with his paternal grandparents at any point.

Now, if we scrape from Pottermore, we get more details that shockingly don't contradict what we see of Harry's background that he's vaguely aware of in canon.

The Potters are noted to historically being the odd ducks and essentially the Weasleys. They were dirt poor, backwater, and ideas about Muggle-borns and Muggles that no one agreed with (that were per the examples JKR gave er not as enlightened as she intended). However, Fleamont struck rich when, as an able potioneer, he produced a hair product that sold like fucking crazy. Everyone bought this stuff. And so, the Potter wealth was born, and Harry inherits gobs of galleons and is stupid rich.

Fleamont and Euphemia are also noted as having a child very late. This is because JKR is hilariously bad at math and keeps making 13-year-old fathers unintentionally (in my personal opinion she should own it) but in this case she makes Fleamont born before 1909 and James in 1960, so he's at least 51, at least. It's noted that they had given up on expecting to have a child.

They're noted as having died of dragon pox late enough to see James and Lily married but died before Harry was born so around 1980 at >= 68.

We also have a brother of Fleamont, Charlus, who is younger and marries Dorea Black. They have at least one child who will carry the Potter name, who would be around James's age, who we then never hear of. They do not ever reach out to Harry throughout the series nor does Harry ever learn of them.

So, where does that get us?

We're looking at a newly wealthy couple who have been iced out of most Pureblood friendships for a long time, who despite having pro-Muggle views don't really know anything about Muggles and were Pureblood until Lily Evans entered the picture, who have a single son who they cherish deeply and will let get away with nearly anything.

These are the kinds of people who believe that they should have helped the Muggle chaps out in WWI (never mind that it was a war about nothing, and it'd be needlessly escalating it into a wizard conflict about nothing), who talk about promoting the Muggle-borns, gladly have Lily Evans over for dinner, but quietly aren't thrilled that James married her and are very thinly smiling during the wedding. They're the kind who don't mind alienating the Blacks when they enable Sirius running away (or, again, aren't thrilled about it but it's James's best friend) and it explains a lot of James's behavior that he's the beloved charismatic only child who does no wrong and expects things to work out for him.

Lily Evans's Parents

These we have a bit less on.

We do know that no mention of him was made on where to send Harry nor do we ever see them canonically when we do see Aunt Marge. They are given no mention.

We do know the sisters had a strained relationship due to Lily's magic but we got no indication that there was any issue with the parents even with Lily basically receiving no education and disappearing for most of the year.

@therealvinelle and I tend to lean towards that her parents died at the very least before Harry was born if not when she was in school. Given they both suddenly disappear and are unlikely to have died of plague like James's parents, we typically have had them die in a car accident as that's something that would take them both out at once and potentially fuels the Dursley's "your parents die in a car accident".

In our fics this has fueled Petunia's hatred of her sister, beyond resentment, as Lily was unable to save her father who sustained brain damage in the accident and had to be pulled off life support.

We imagine an early expectation was placed on Lily by her parents that she catch up with her Muggle schooling in the summer, when they realize she's learning nothing, but this slowly fades as the years go by and Lily ends up feeling very alienated from her parents and her family in general.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #lily evans #james potter #anti james potter #fleamont potter #anti fleamont potter #euphemia potter #anti euphemia potter #meta #headcanon #opinion #vinelle #therealvinelle

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ladykyriaa · 5 months

Text

A KPOP (CPOP?JPOP?) Idol Jinshi X Doctor's assistant Maomao

Now on Ao3!!

how he fell (hard?)

The sound of cheers could be heard even outside the stadium. Hundreds of thousands of people gathered in the arena, all waiting for the performance of a lifetime. At least, that’s what they’ll tell their families and friends. In truth, it was probably to get a once in a lifetime chance to spectate the three dazzling shamelessly beautiful men about to perform. Celestial, just as the name suggests, is a group of three with looks that could rival even the Greek gods themselves.

Rihaku with his incredible upper body mass muscles like those of wrestlers, and yet possessed the gentle gaze and a nature that was less intimidating than that of a golden retriever. Rikuson, who had managed to captivate the girls for his “gentleman behavior” whenever he got out and about. To give an example, he once went trending over the internet for several weeks because he held open a door for a mother and child that had their hands full, and then proceeded to help them to their car. Lastly, Jinshi who had managed to not only catch the eyes of both men and women, but also those from the older generations. “He reminds me back to my younger days” is what they would say when asked while giggling and blushing like maidens in love. It was truly a sight.

the men had been together for about 4 years. Jinshi, of course has had the longest career out of all of them being that he started as a child actor. And now at 24 years old, he’s become one of, if not, the most sought-after celebrity by young men and women, their parents and even their grandparents. But of course, just because you’ve been trained from a very young age and have become basically the epitome of grace and elegance, doesn’t mean you’re not prone to accidents yourself.

How did this even happen? Jinshi questioned himself as he sat waiting in the ER. In all his 18 years of career, this was probably the biggest blunder he’d ever made. Even when he was found drunk and passed out in the park that one time couldn’t have been worse than this. No, maybe that was worse. The big boss certainly gave me enough grievances to last a lifetime. He looked at his presumably, no definitely sprained ankle and thought if he could ask for the rest of his schedules to be canceled. He deserved the break, did he not?

“Sorry for the wait.” A gentle, wispy voice called out as they entered the room. The man that entered look to be about 50-60 years old and had wrinkles all over his face, despite that he looked to be a gentle soul. “We’ll run over some tests just to make sure none of the bones are shattered. But at the very least, this is sure to be sprained. I’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel all your activities for the next month or so.” Well, Jinshi didn’t have any problems with that. He was actually quite glad with the chance of a proper break. His manager, Gaoshun, however…

“Maomao, dear. Please run some blood test for me.” It was only at that moment that he realized someone else was in the room with them. A thinly, pale freckled girl was holding a tray with what he presumed to be medical tools on it. Wait, blood test? Isn’t that-

“After you’re done you can change into the hospital gown that is provided. Someone will come and get you soon.” The Doctor said and promptly left the room. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the word blood test. Was it truly necessary though? Jinshi didn’t quite think so. In fact, “You know I can just tell you what my blood type is, we don’t have to run a blood test.” he gave his best smile that usually was able to get people, no matter who, the things he wanted. He was expecting some swooning, maybe a bit of giggling and blush. Disgust, however.

That was the farthest thing from his mind.

Huh? Why isn’t it working.

The girl, Maomao, looked at him like he was the lowest of low, worse than a caterpillar itself. In fact, Jinshi thought, she might look at a caterpillar with more fondness than she did at him because why isn’t it working?? She managed to school her expression into a flat one before he could voice out his indignancies, however.

“You know that’s not how it works” she said, unimpressed. “Now, your arm please.”

“Can’t we just skip this whole part? I think this is quite unnecessary, don’t you?” Jinshi was not one to give up, and so he’ll keep trying however many times he could. No one could ever resist his inhuman beauty. No one. And so, he smiled. The brightest and sweetest one he could.

The girl did not budge. Not an inch. Nada. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, “sir, are you terrified of needles by chance?”

He can feel his smile stuck in place. “Whatever made you think that?” keep smiling, keep smiling, just keep smiling. “Surely you don’t think, I, a 24-year-old man, am scared of a mere silver, do you?” just. keep. Smiling.

She shrugged, “You may be surprised, but it’s actually quite common. Depending on the severance of those fears, one might even try and jump out the window.” She said with such nonchalance you would think she’s talking about the weather. Jinshi was honestly tempted to try. “Hm. How peculiar.” He kept his eyes on the window. He thought she may have noticed because she walked towards it and closed it.

“You know, you look quite familiar. And that’s saying something because I don’t even remember the faces of my colleagues two months into the job.” Mouth agape, He nearly scoffed.

familiar? does being 18 years on tv only got him to the point of familiarity??

This is outrageous. Did their marketing team have not done enough?

He was sure if he were to ask the girl’s grandma wherever-she-may-be about who he was, then he was sure even she would’ve given a better answer than “you look familiar.”

It would’ve been better if the girl hadn’t known of him at all because hey, maybe she grew up without the internet because there is no way in hell he could’ve looked just familiar. That would imply that she didn’t even bother to pay attention.

“You’re all done.” What?

“What?” he blinked out of his musings, only to realize she was already packing her tools except the hospital gown that was left for him.

“You’re done. I’ve gotten the sample.” Done? He looked down at his arm and sure enough there was a small bandage covering the part where he supposedly got injected. “Make sure to change into the hospital gown. Or do you perhaps need help?” She can not be serious. He could feel his face burning and judging by the disgust look that appeared on her face, seriously what is up with that. Maybe she took notice. “I can bring your bodyguard in.”

“No, no. I uh, I can do it myself” seemingly satisfied, she began to leave the room.

“Wait!” The girl stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Did uh, was your question only to distract me? From the injection that is. Was it a genuine question?” she seemed to ponder for a minute, thinking of the best way to answer him.

“Well, yes and no, I suppose. But it did work on you, didn’t it Mr. Jinshi?” and then without further ado, she left.

And maybe she took something else with her along the way, Jinshi mused to himself.

I AM CACKLING. THIS HUNK OF A MF. started because i cant stop imagining modern au jinshi as a kpop idol wtf.

Guys you dont understand i have AN EXAM ASSIGNMENT DUE TOMORROW. I've nEVER EVEN WRITTEN A FIC BEFORE. ALL MY LIFE. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME

oh my god this obsession has got to stop im being so serious rn

whoever came across this sorry excuse of a story i am so sorry but i wrote this in one sitting, literally no draft no thing. nada. I just wanted to get this out of my chest

finally i can continue my assignments. i think. hopefully.

#the apothecary diaries #kusuriya no hitorigoto #hnggghh if you came across this no you didnt #and even if you do you dont know who i am god idk why this is so embarassing #IM NOT A WRITER IM NOT MEANT FOR WRITING #but alas #if you want it you gotta make it #jinmao #jinshi #maomao #kyriarting

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athingofvikings · 1 month

Text

A Thing Of Vikings Chapter 105: No Greater Fear Than That Of Love Standing Helpless

Chapter 105: No Greater Fear Than That Of Love Standing Helpless

The idea of blood is ridiculous.

And while I have some complaints to Odin about the red stuff that runs in our bodies and leaks out when you poke too hard, that's not what I'm talking about here.

The idea of good blood or bad blood or bloodlines or 'they take after their father or mother,' or, going bigger, that's just how they are because of who they are, what they are, that's absurd.

I'm proof of that. I grew up as my father's runt of a child, someone who was strange and who didn't fit in, despite all of my efforts to be just like them. How can I say to other people that that's what I would expect of them because of who their parents were, who their family is, when I remember so strongly that I wasn't like my own father?

'That's just how they are'. Oh really? That's just how 'they' are? Why? It didn't matter to me how much 'Vikings' were like that, even as I tried to be one with all of my (rather sad) might. I wasn't an ax-wielding warrior.

Yes, there are tendencies across groups of people. But those come from how the child is taught, from what the people around them say is acceptable on how to behave, and also from their own personal gifts and temperaments. Everyone likes to say now that my eldest kids are 'geniuses, just like their father' since they started reaching adulthood and I'm finding out exactly what my father and Gobber meant by "the Grandparents' Curse". And yes, part of me would like to think that it's all my 'blood'. But it isn't. It's because when they were little, I helped them ask questions and grow. I encouraged the parts of them that wanted to know, wanted to understand the world and how it is put together. And not all of my kids are that kind of 'genius'. Oh, Asta and Magni definitely are, and it's been a joy to watch them scare and upset the old scholars as they've finish their schooling—or in Valka's case, scare the lords now that she's starting to take some responsibility in leading. But Hamish, ahem, 'takes after his mother,' and while he's certainly smart enough, he's not interested in being a philosopher or a lord or an artist or a priest like his brothers and sisters are. He's growing up to be a warrior, a soldier, an officer and general like his mother is, and I'm just doing my best to help him be a man of honor and not a bully. And I'm not going to force him to be like me if he doesn't want to be. I know how much that hurts.

But that's just my own family. I wasn't a model Hooligan growing up, no matter how many tales people tell now to the contrary. Fishlegs grew up around books and cultivated that in him, but he wasn't a perfect warrior as our people pictured it either. Hel, Mildew, may Nidhogg gnaw on his bones, was one of us, and look at how he acted! It was as if every law and rule we had was something he viewed as a challenge to break!

So when I hear people say in the Thing that that's 'just how the Turks are', or 'everyone knows that's how the Han people are', or any of that…

I always end up asking sarcastically about what 'everyone knows'. After all, 'everyone knows' that Jews are weak scholars—and some of our most highly honored soldiers come from their people. I've had my own people comment to me in private that 'everyone knows' how Franks are untrustworthy fanatics who will betray oaths to outsiders if they can find an excuse. And, sure, there have been examples of that… and there have been many more examples of good and kind members of their people, who repay decency with decency and honor with honor.

No. Blood is ridiculous. I grew up with a smith for a guardian and became a craftsman. My wives grew up in the homes of warriors and leaders, and that's what they were taught to become.

And that is why I do my best to help my people, regardless of their 'blood', to grow and fly on their own.

Because I know what it's like to be a square peg in a round hole, even if people now are saying that the hole was always square.

It wasn't.

—From the Journal of Hiccup Haddock, October 12th, AD 1067

AO3 Chapter Link

~~~

My Original Fiction | Original Fiction Patreon

#a thing of vikings #httyd #how to train your dragon #alternate history #historical fiction

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sirianasims · 5 months

Text

Being a dad gave me a new appreciation for things. I loved the raw beauty of Brindleton Bay, which was much more interesting than the suburbs of Newcrest where I grew up, but it excited me even more to see it through Freya’s eyes.

The night before Winterfest, I took her out for a little walk, bundled up in warm clothes. We looked at the snow falling quietly in the dark. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

This was the first winter Freya had been old enough to really appreciate snow, and her excitement was infectious. I felt like I had been taking snow for granted until now.

She giggled and tried to catch the falling snowflakes with her little hands, and I hugged her tight.

I didn’t know it was possible to love someone this much.

Winterfest morning was beautiful. Everything was covered in fresh snow and Brindleton Bay looked like a postcard.

My parents had come all the way from Newcrest to spend Winterfest with us, and I was excited to see them. It had been a few months since their last visit and they weren’t getting any younger. I wanted Freya to spend as much time with her grandparents as possible.

Katherine and I played our roles perfectly. I didn’t want my parents to worry, so I never discussed our relationship with them, but I think they suspected that things weren’t great. They were always very kind towards Katherine, but never seemed especially fond of her.

They adored Freya, though. My father didn’t even take off his coat before tossing her into the air to make her laugh.

My mother wanted a family portrait. Katherine immediately volunteered to take one.

Months later, when it was all too late, I would think back to this day and wonder if she had kept herself out of the picture on purpose.

But during Winterfest, I thought nothing of it. I was busy spending time with my family.

Dinner went well. I updated my parents on the clinic, but Katherine and I mostly told them about Freya. How many words she knew by now, all the funny things she had said and done since their last visit.

Katherine and I both had a lot of practice putting on a performance to make things seem normal by now, but I wondered if my parents sensed that we were trying a little too hard.

It made me happy and a little bit envious to see the obvious love between my parents, even after over 25 years of marriage. I hoped they would set a better example for Freya than Katherine and I did.

My father was entertaining us with some of the most outrageous divorce lawsuits he’d seen in his career.

Katherine and I weren’t married, and I had often wondered if it would be better if we simply broke up, stopped pretending. But I knew exactly what would happen.

She would take Freya with her, and I would at best get to see my daughter half the time – if I was extremely lucky. I couldn’t risk that.

I had considered asking my father what rights I would have, but I knew there was no good solution except staying with Katherine. Even if I could somehow keep Freya to myself, she would just lose her mother instead. I couldn’t do that to either of them.

Once more, I pushed away any thoughts of leaving Katherine. I had to keep going. For my daughter.

For Freya.

A few weeks after Winterfest, I woke up in the middle of the night. At first I wasn’t sure what woke me up, but then I heard Katherine in the bathroom.

It sounded like she was crying, trying to be quiet. I put my arm on her pillow. Still warm, she couldn’t have been gone for long.

Then I noticed that she’d left her phone behind. The screen was still on, and my curiosity got the better of me.

She had been chatting to Kailani. I only had time to read Katherine’s last message as I heard her blowing her nose in the bathroom. It simply said:

“Thank you both, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving him.“

Shit.

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen3 #eric duchelli #katherine gilscarbo #freya duchelli #zane fyres-munch #cora duchelli

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curvylizzie · 11 months

Text

Let me be open with you for a second

As you all know, my name is Samantha. That name was not given to me by my parents, but rather it is the name I chose for myself.

At the age of 11 I experience my first crush on a male, at the time I thought I was gay but then at the age of 13 I realized I was still able to have crushes in girls. So I realized I was bisexual

The guy I had a crush on was 4 years older than me. And I was extremely fond of him, so much so that I adopted his look, and made it my own. That’s why I love wearing plaid shirts.

I used to disguised this attraction by saying that he was like an older brother to me. That was my excuse but deep down, I had a crush on him just like any 11 year old would have a crush on their babysitter let’s say

But then at 15, my world shattered.

For more context; I was born to immigrants. My parents immigrated to Canada when I was very little, I don’t remember much of our home country. I grew up without grandparents, cousins, uncles, aunts.

Because I never had these connections, and because I changed schools so frequently due to dad’s work, I was never able to make friends.

I was a very lonely kid.

My parents and siblings were my whole world, and I came to realize that without them, I would have no purpose

So back to 15. My parents divorced. My Dad called the cops on my mom for false accusations of domestic abused. My mom tried laying charges back for mental domestic abuse as well. I remember talking to one of the cops, asking if I was okay. I don’t remember my response….

My dad left us after that night. He went onto live outside and we rarely ever saw him.

That same year, me 15, my sister 11, and my brother 7 were faced with a choice that should never ever be imposed on any child; mom or dad

If we chose dad, mom threatened to go back to our home country and we would never see her again. But if we chose mom, we still had the possibility to see dad. The choice was clear

And although we chose mom, she made it next to impossible for us to form any sort of bond with dad

I hated her for this, I hated her immensely. She fell into a severe depression, and was taking meds at the times for which she became addicted to.

Every night, for the next year, I had to sleep close to the kitchen. She would walk there in the middle of the night and grab a knife. I caught her once about to commit suicide.

It was the darkest time of my life.

I fell into my own depression. But my life, my well being was put on hold.

I failed most classes in high school but I didn’t care. I had to find a job because mom wouldn’t.

I found something at a daycare, and gained a decent salary to help buy groceries, because of this, I was unable to build up enough credit to attend university. So I gave up on it.

My relationship with mom deteriorated further, and so did mine with my siblings.

Subconsciously I took on the role of a parent figure for them but they did not see it that way. I was trying to protect them from mom, but they didn’t think I was. And so my relationship with my siblings, specially with my brother, broke

My world was shattered. The only people I knew were fighting and moving apart from each other. I fell into a depression that I never bothered to get checked

I attempted suicide myself many times. But everytime I would do it, I would say to myself “they need me. I can’t go yet”

That kept me going

I joined the army to be able to provide even more, my salary was good. I was able to provide with food and rent. I stayed in for 5 years. And I left due to them not paying me on time in several occasions

During this time I had cut dad completely out of my life. Mom kept showing me court documents trying to brainwash me into thinking my dad was and I quote “the worst human being to ever exist and if I don’t see it, I must be as bad as him”

During the summer of 2021 I decided to stop the army work. I enrolled in a trade school for something I had a passion on, but was not my dream job; a mechanic. And in the month of January 2022, I started classes

At this time I had already made this blog without really thinking much of it. But I also had more time to explore my mind.

I realized there was so much more than what I thought, my sexuality for one.

I started wondering why kids in my school always treated me like a girl, saying I’m “too girly to be a boy”. Why I loved wearing long hair and it made me feel better about myself. Why wearing a towel as a skirt made me feel nice

I talked to a couple of people and then realized, I might be trans.

May 25, 2022. I start a discord server, for which people rapidly started joining.

I was this enigmatic server owner people knew next to nothing about. Some started thinking that I was a woman behind the screen, for the way I talked and treated others in and I quote “a motherly way”

This made me feel better, and made me realized finally; I was a trans woman.

With that in mind, I knew if I told my family, they would not accept it. So I went months practicing makeup, dressing the way I wanted to dress, all in secret.

Moving to December 2022. My sister showed interest in what’s inside my head. I came out to her. I told her everything and she said “I did not know you had all this built up. Why didn’t you say anything?” Because nobody ever asked.

The thoughts of suicide started creeping up again. My friends online will remember this, and thank you again for saving me.

January 2023, I tell mom. And I tell dad. My dad at this point lives in a different province. I never see him anymore

Mom was not accepting of me, but she assured me that she would still love me, but would rather see me in boy clothes.

With all this, my family started distancing themselves because they could not believe that I was trans. Or rather they just didn’t wanna accept it.

I felt lonely

I felt scared

I felt anxious

I wanted to die

I had no more reason to keep living. My family didn’t want me around.

Last night… I could not see the light anymore. I don’t have a family to keep working for, they were my world and now they don’t want me.

I felt lonelier than I’ve ever felt before in my life. Ever.

I cried, and I screamed. My sister said to “submit to God” and brushed me aside

I walked up to my apartment. I grabbed a knife.. I looked at it for 30 minutes, trying to find a reason to stay. I couldn’t find one.

I placed the knife to my heart, but couldn’t do it. I layed on the floor, crying. And that’s when my brother came in, he was looking for something. And he found me. Asked me if I was okay, I said no…

I grabbed the knife once again, and he saw what I was doing, he took it away from me, and sat with me.

He saved my life last night.

When you lose a friend irl, you have at least the luxury of knowing, but someone online… they just wouldn’t show up anymore and you wouldn’t be able to know if they’re still around anymore or not.

Im sorry to all of you for almost doing that.

My life has been one with so much loneliness, I would never ever wish this on anyone. Ever. That is why I focus on helping others socialize, that is why that whenever someone comes to me for advice or because they need someone, I drop whatever the hell im doing, even if I’m crying my eyes out and go to talk to them.

I do so much, and rarely I ever get anything in return. But that is fine by me, because I’ve been able to build a community of people who now not only they follow this example, they send messages to me re-affirming what I believed; that I’ve saved them.

So thank you all for reading up to the end of this post. It was long and I won’t lie. But I had to make it.

You guys have helped me find myself, and have saved me before.

I promise to work on myself everyday so to stay with you all for as long as possible

Sam

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thegittelbug · 3 months

Text

I'm a mother! I've been home with my baby girl for about a month now, and while I'm definitely still sleep deprived, we've gotten into enough of a rhythm that I've regained some sanity and have come (mostly) out of the post birth fog. Now I got thoughts on parenthood. Okay, not super original ones prob but ya know what this is my blog.

One month of parental leave is absolutely not enough. My husband and I are so incredibly fortunate in that we both have more, and we decided to take the first month off together to bond as a family. And like. He's going back to work and I am not happy about it. I don't know how parents with less time survive.

Grandparents are absolutely amazing when they know what you need. My parents came over and deep cleaned our house. My dad scrubbed our bathrooms. They did all the dishes and laundry for us for a week. I miss them immensely.

Community baby meals have kept me sane. Having to feed myself while feeding baby is not easy.

My body has limits and it will let me know, often not in the most comfortable way! I went to the store for a quick shop not too long after giving birth (would have had husband go but I wasn't sure exactly what I needed and couldn't describe it). I thought, no problem, just a quick trip. But uh. No. Standing that long was not great.

It's incredible just how much personality babies have even when they are just a few weeks old and sleeping most of the time. One of the cutest things she does is try to "continue" sneezing. Not sure if I'm explaining it well... She'll have 3 normal sneezes in a row and then decide she wants another one, but her body doesn't need to anymore. So instead of a regular sneeze she just shouts as if sneezing and says "AWOOO" as loud as her little lungs will permit.

My baby's head is the best smelling thing in the whole world

Any piece of media (TV show, movie, book) where harm comes to a child has me sobbing. We'll see if this continues to the same degree as my hormones regulate a little more.

Doing things is just, a lot harder now. Chores, outings... At home, we do a combo of chores while wearing baby in a sling or waiting for baby to nap or putting her in her little bassinet with the overhead dangly toys for short periods and then do things as fast as possible. I'm still a little afraid of doing longer outings (we've gone on plenty of walks and some shorter errands), but I'm sure we'll get there.

Speaking of chores... So. Much. Laundry.

Having other moms to talk to and help make sure you're not going insane is so important!!!

#my random thoughts #motherhood

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cutiesaur · 7 months

Text

You know what I'm fucking DONE. I'm going to be that asshole.

These are my thoughts about the genocide of Palestine people from the perspective of a Palestinian descendant outside of Gaza.

My grandparents had to flee their country, Palestine in the 50's because of the Ottoman War.

They rebuilt their lives as many other Palestinians did in our country. They had to leave their old identities, their traditions, their culture, their language for a chance to live. For a chance to experience peace. For their kids and their grandkids and all of the generations beyond them.

I was born and raised inside this recreated culture. In the future they worked their nails to the bone for. Mantaining some of our culture's staples like food and some traditions that weren't lost in the assimilation of a new culture.

As a child I never understood the "fuck Israel" statement that all of all older Palestinian people expressed. Why are my elders so angry and mean to them? They have not done something wrong to us! Right?

In the past fifteen years I've come to understand the "fuck Israel" quote.

Our families for generations had to fight for their homes, fot their peace and for their freedom from Israel. They had to rebuild their lives in a foreign country and the families that are in my country now were lucky to be able to flee and thrive.

That's the story of ALL the palestinian people in my country! Families deciding to flee their homeland for the sake of their descendants.

We all know about our rich history, our culture.

My grandparents and parents, my granduncles grandaunts, aunts and uncles had to face discrimination, racism, violence and hate because they weren't from "this country" and they thrived.

Even I, a second born generation outside Palestine had to face bullying and discrimination over me trying to reconnect and explore my culture from incult and hateful people that still have all of those prejudices against my upbringing, and some just because they saw that and emulated it.

As I got deeper into my self investigation I understood. It was like the rage of many generations of my ancestors boiling my blood up. All of the injustices and crimes my ancestors had to endure, all in the name of entitlemnet and a supposed Holy Land.

We have spoken many times on how dangerous it was to portray Israel as the "poor little guys that are going throught so much!" When the conflict over what they believe is their "holy land" has gone for centuries and they have gotten crueler and more entitled over what they believe it's theirs not being in their power, just like a spoiled brat that wants something and is making a huge tanturm over it.

We have been called anti-semitic by many for pointing out the wrong-doings of Israel and what would happend if the extremist people of Israel had powerful countries backing them up, founding their "cause" and how it would end up on a crisis like the one that we are witnessing right now.

Their cause being an ethnic cleansing, a complete genocide of million of innocents because of hatred, using their God as their crutch to do this genocide and it is simply sickening.

To witness the genocide of the magnitude that Israel is doing in the 21st century, the supposed era of human rights and peace and to see so many governments without a backbone to not get involved on the ceasefire makes this one of the most disgusting events of current history.

And what we as normal everyday people without the power to intervein can do? Pray, donate, speak up. But it feels as if it's not enough because it is not enough.

Israel is killing MILLIONS while portraying themselves as the victims and people are happy about it?

I have never in my life expirienced the level of RAGE and defeat I feel right now. Witnessing millions of innocent babies, children, women, men, elderly people be massacred and a lot of brain dead people APPLAUDING it is sickening and for what? For the Israel government to claim they are getting rid of a couple of terrorists? The assasination of MILLION OF INNOCENT CIVILIANS IS OK BECAUSE OF A COUPLE OF SUPPOSED TERRORISTS!? IS THAT MORALLY CORRECT!?

Say what you want to say about Palestine as a country but the complete annihalation of MILLIONS of human lives is NOT correct. It has NEVER been correct.

The fact that the most powerful countries on this world that supposedly are for human rights are just sitting there not getting involved because "poor Israel they are defending themselves" defending themselves from what?

For centuries, the Palestine-Israel conflict has been seen as a "over there" problem, a simple misunderstanding and a silly goofy fight over whatever! Well let me tell you that what has been boiled over this indifference is what is happening right now.

The blood of millions of innocents has been spilled and it is a stain that will NEVER be forgotten.

The death of all of the innocents that have been slaughtered in a way that makes a slaughter house seem ethical in comparison is sickening and I hope justice is served to in their names.

I may come off as insensible, as cruel, as an overall piece of shit but my heart knows that this is not right and that with all my heart and all my soul I repeat the words that my elders, my non blood related brothers and sisters, my ancestors, my granduncles, my grandaunts, my aunts, my uncles, my cousins, my grandparents, my parents have said before me:

Wholeheartedly FUCK. ISRAEL.

And to that extent, fuck whomever stands with Israel.

May whatever God look up to and you pray to find mercy on your pathetic souls.

I pray for all of my surviving Palestinian brothers and sisters that feel as if all is lost, I know for a fact we are strong of soul and body. We are tenacious and resilient. We are full of love and hope but also full of strength.

Justice will be served.

#palestine #thoughts of a palestinian desendant outside of Gaza #justice for palestine

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whisper-my-serenade · 11 months

Text

wayward son

a theoretical todd anderson origin story

word count: 5937

cw: non-consensual kissing, f-slur, period-accurate homophobia

Todd sat himself at the top of the staircase, careful not to make a sound lest his parents hear around the corner. They spoke in hushed, angered tones; they spat his name like that of a plague. It was as if he was a misbehaving dog that they couldn’t put down, but some other form of containment had to be found. In that moment, he might have preferred if they just shot him Old Yeller-style.

“Aren’t there religious places we can send him? Places that are equipped to deal with things like this?” his father was saying, exasperated.

“No, no, everyone knows those don’t work. Besides, people would ask too many questions about where he’s gone,” his mother huffed. He thought it surprising that she was against a religious school, seeing as she was the one who dragged them all to church every Sunday.

His father sighed, the heavy, long thing that Todd knew he did as a quiet way of telling people to shut up and do whatever he said. “We’re running out of options, Lorraine. We need somewhere that will keep him in line. A military school, maybe?”

“Ha!” his mother cracked. “Could you imagine? He’d be crushed like a bug.”

There was a stiff moment of silence. Todd could feel the heavy, humid summer air creep through the open windows.

“Why don’t we just send him to Welton?” his mother suddenly replied, and Todd inhaled sharply, almost breaking his silence with a yelp. Please, anywhere but there.

“You can’t be serious,” his father retorted. “After what he’s done? You remember why we didn’t send him there in the first place, don’t you?”

“There’s no better place to get him in line and make sure he gives our family a good name. That’s what that school was made for. Besides, his grades are up enough, I think.”

“I don’t know. He’s not really the Welton type, is he?”

“Do you have any better ideas, Robert?”

Todd waited for the reply with bated breath. Even then he could feel his future being determined right in front of him.

“Oh, I suppose not. It’s as good a school as any.”

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd Anderson was, at Balincrest, a leper. He was quiet, anxious, had a bad stutter and some awkward nervous ticks that made the other boys call him names usually reserved for asylum patients. But Todd was not a fun target—he had something most other boys his age lacked, that being the emotional maturity to know when to not rise to the bait—and for the most part he was left on his own, reading his infinite novels in some dark hovel and completing his schoolwork silent and alone in a corner of the common room. The teasing, when it did come about, didn’t bother him much because he was as aware of his faults as anyone and no one could punish him for them as he already punished himself. For some reason, though, the one that got to him the most was ‘mute’. It was not that he couldn’t talk, it was that there was no one in the world he felt he could talk with.

Ever since he was a small child, people had very few good things to say about Todd. With his parents, it was always some form of inferiority to his brother, a high cliff of a standard he could never quite climb to the top of. Gone were the days of the two boys dressed in matching outfits, playing games of knights and dragons in their grandparent’s sprawling backyard; now it was only Jeffrey did this and you didn’t. Going to different schools meant Todd only saw glimpses of his brother in the summer, when his primary job was staying out of his family’s hair. Todd didn’t know what Jeff thought about the matter. He also didn’t care.

Todd never particularly excelled in school, either. He was shown to be reasonably bright in class, and was always reading far above his grade level, but his test scores were horrendous, and, worse yet, he failed every presentation he was ever assigned because he simply could not do them. His throat would close up, lungs gasping for air he seemingly could not find, and his mind spun recklessly out of control, trapping him in a distant subconscious where he could not be reached for anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. To his parents, the attacks were another form of embarrassment. Not only was Todd not as smart or socially skilled as his brother, he was also mentally diseased. When he was a child, he’d often sought the comfort of his parents when his mind slipped away from him. But he was sixteen now, and knew better. The Andersons always chose to suffer alone.

That wasn’t to say he had no skills whatsoever. In his younger years he wrote wildly imaginative stories, taking bits and pieces of all the children’s fiction he read to create new worlds of his own to escape to. He wrote little now, burnt out from years of essay writing, but still read ferociously all manner of literature, from low-brow science fiction to the most classical of poets. And, if nothing else, he was quite a good soccer player.

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the game—far from it—he just happened to have the skill and anger needed to push his way to the top. Of all the nicknames he was called, no one ever called him sensitive, because he could kick circles around any other player at the school and glare at them like an angry watchdog as he did it. It was a way of release, maybe, but an unfortunate one, because if Todd hated anything, it was having eyes on him.

Which is why when he ended up on Balincrest’s varsity team his sophomore year (the only one, at that), it filled him with such immense dread that the school nurse thought he’d caught the flu. His first day in that locker room, suddenly surrounded by burly, sweaty upperclassmen who joked about shotgunning beers and assaulting women (another area where Todd lacked expertise), was one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life, and when the coach asked if someone would volunteer to spend a few minutes after practice packing up the equipment, Todd leapt at the chance. Anything to get out of that humid, musky room for a few minutes longer. Too many eyes.

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd had never spoken to Isaac Parker in his life. Isaac was junior, handsome, with golden blonde hair and warm hazel eyes that had the unique ability to convince girls that he was somehow different from every other reckless, immature teenage boy that tried to wiggle their way into their hearts (and skirts). He was also a favorite among the staff, but in that friendly, charismatic way that kept the name “teacher’s pet” off his back. Everyone knew he was destined to be the soccer team captain his senior year, because God had never made anyone else so perfectly for the job. The sun smiled upon this boy.

It was a spring evening, one of the first warm ones after a brutal northeast winter, that their paths first crossed. Practice was wrapping up, and Todd was skirting off to the side of the field to begin his now usual job of cleaning up when, from over the field, he heard Isaac’s melodic voice joking with the coach and a word of thanks for his help in response. Suddenly, Todd was not alone with his stack of cones. Golden boy Isaac was there, too, an Apollo next to a cowardly mortal.

Balincrest’s sports equipment shed was a small thing with a corrugated metal roof that pinged like a glockenspiel when it rained and had bits of chipped-off white paint lining the ground underneath it. Inside, it smelled of wet wood and stale sweat and was barely large enough to accommodate more than one person. The boys worked wordlessly stringing the practice equipment to the walls, the close confines meaning Todd was cautious with his every step so as not to draw the attention of the leader. The single bare lightbulb above them flickered as a moth wove its way around and around.

Todd was suddenly aware of the stillness behind him, and when he finished his job and turned around, he found Isaac staring at him with an unreadable expression. Todd suddenly felt an immense weight in his chest, a giant, red-hot star on the verge of bursting. Before he could even open his mouth to speak, Isaac took both sides of his face in his hands and pressed their lips together.

It was a searing, burning feeling. Isaac’s hands and mouth were hot and slick, their noses crashing together as Todd tried and failed to stumble backwards, caught by surprise. Isaac held him there for an unbearable moment before releasing, keeping his eyes closed for a second longer as if reveling in the feeling. Suddenly they burst open, and in the dim glow of the bulb, looked black and full of rage. Todd’s own eyes were stuck wide, breath frozen in his throat.

The silence was deafening. Isaac suddenly crowded him up against the wall of the shed, burning fingerprints into his arm as a stern hand pointed into his face. “You say a word, you’re dead, got it?”

Todd nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

☽ ☼ ☾

After Isaac left Todd with his mouth gaping in the shed, he apparently didn’t go back to the locker room, which Todd was unbelievably thankful for. There was an uncomfortable stillness in the empty room, and Todd felt like he had to constantly keep moving as he showered just to break the sensation. He watched the water wash away all the sweat and memories of touch from his body—the pink bruises forming on his arm, the gently protruding lines of his ribs, the soft, unaltered beating of his heart underneath them. He suddenly smashed the porcelain tile of the shower with his fist, leaning his head into his arms as hot tears began to well in his eyes.

It had been his first kiss. He might have been ashamed if there was anyone to ask him about it, but it wasn’t really that fact that made the embarrassment burn so hot in his chest so much as the fact that it had been a boy. And he hadn’t hated it, not like he should have.

His mother liked to say he was a ‘late bloomer’ and he would find his way into the arms of the fairer sex one of these days, but Todd knew well and good that he’d grown up faster than most and that girls did absolutely nothing for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t have “urges”—he, like nearly every other teenage boy, had his moments in the quiet of his bedroom or the roar of a shower—but he could never picture the face of another person in those moments, only the vague outlines of strong, square bodies and the calloused touch of large hands. If there was a word for this, he did not know it. Or maybe he did, and his mind just refused to connect them.

He knew what he ought to do: go straight to the coach or the dean and declare what had happened to him, denounce Isaac’s actions with all the fervor and rage he deserved. It was violating, dehumanizing, and, in the eyes of the general public, outright wrong. Todd had done nothing.

And yet a small voice tugged in the back of his head, asking the same question over and over. Why me? Had Isaac picked his target at random? Did he calculate his odds and decide Todd was the least likely to speak out? Did he just assume that because he was younger, he would be easier to push around and bully into silence?

Or could Isaac tell, in the deep, shameful way that social pariahs connected with each other? Was it something Todd had done that had given it away? How he sat with his legs crossed, like his father scolded him for? The books he read? The names he was called? His incessant loneliness? If he were to tell someone, would they know it, too?

Todd turned off the shower and held still for a moment, letting the water pool and drip off his limbs. He wouldn’t say anything—couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the shame of it, if word got out. He didn’t care for faggot and fairy to be added to the list of things he was called. And what would his parents say? The Andersons could never have a queer for a son. It was bad enough that he liked to read.

There were different levels of leprosy at Balincrest: those that got you teased, and those that got you killed. Given the option, Todd would choose to stay in his current group, thank you very much.

☽ ☼ ☾

The next time it happened, Isaac didn’t say anything. It lasted longer, a tongue poking out and searching for leverage, but finding none. Todd inhaled the scent of sweet, fresh sweat mixed with cologne, his lips fighting the urge to give in and see what he could get out of this. It was not a mutual relationship. It was not.

He walked back to his dorm that night to the abject chatter of lonely crickets from the woods, the spring moon high and gleaming above him. His heart was still pounding and his skin felt cold where Isaac’s fingers had gripped it. Todd didn’t think he’d ever been held so firmly.

There was a part of him that was almost thrilled by it. There was no denying that Isaac had good looks and a movie-star charm, and if Todd had been a girl, he would surely be internally gloating for winning the boy’s affections above all the others. For all the times he’d seen his brother down far too much liquor or try to sneak a girl in through his bedroom window and never understood the appeal of the risk, Todd now felt he understood why teenagers pushed boundaries the way they did—there was adrenaline in it, a high that came with getting away with something. He’d never before had the chance to kiss a boy, and probably never would again. His father might call it “getting it out of his system”, as he did with Jeffrey’s various misdemeanors. And if it was to forever remain his dirty little secret, then so be it. Surely there were far worse things.

☽ ☼ ☾

The longer it went on, the more routine it became. They put the equipment away in silence, not touching or looking at each other, and then Isaac would go still, and Todd would take it as his que to turn around and allow himself to be grabbed and pushed however Isaac wanted him. They would kiss for a few minutes (maybe longer, maybe shorter; Todd discovered that one lost a sense of time when doing a thing like that) and then Isaac would release him, avoiding his gaze, and flee the scene of the crime. Todd would leave a few moments later, shower, and gaze at the moon as he walked back to the dorms.

☽ ☼ ☾

The end came on a hot May day, the air still steamy even as the sun lowered in the horizon and sent beautiful orange beams across the brick walls of Balincrest. Campus was filled with the inspirited feeling of summer closing in around them, and the boys grew restless as the last agonizing weeks of school crept by. The soccer team played their best season in years that year, with Isaac as the star of the show and Todd as the overlooked secret weapon. Todd discretely smiled to himself when the coach told him it was a role he played well.

It was one of the final practices of the season, and Todd almost dreaded it being over. There was a part of him that enjoyed being someone’s secret, and now the normal loneliness that came with being in his empty house all summer came with the added notion that he was losing his source of romantic gratification as well, as little romance as there was involved. He would miss the smell of the boy so close to him, the firm touch of his hands, the furtive glances Isaac would throw him when he thought no one else was looking. But Todd would get used to the loneliness, as he always had. And summer would end, as all things did, and Todd and Isaac would enter each other’s orbits once again.

After practice was over, they went quickly to their usual routine. Maybe the approaching vacation was affecting Isaac, too, because he seemed rougher, pinning Todd a little tighter to the wall and parting his lips with a little more force. It was sloppy and quick, as if time was running out.

It took a moment for them to react when the door of the shed opened, but when they did, the effect was immediate and brutal. Isaac jumped back, shoving at Todd’s shoulder as if to push him away even though Todd was already as close to the wall as he could get. “Get off me, fag!” he shouted, his melodic voice unfamiliar in such harsh words. Todd seemed unable to speak, turning towards the stunned coach in the doorway and hoping his shocked, pained face spoke for him. He lies. I didn’t ask for this.

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd watched Isaac’s parents approach the building from where he’d been locked in the infirmary all night. Their parents couldn’t come in for a meeting so late in the evening, but it was decided that the boys could not be trusted amongst the general population of the school, so they were sequestered at opposite ends of the building with only the occasional staff member for company. Both the dinner and breakfast that had been brought for him lay untouched on their trays. He’d been far too sick that night to eat.

He sank away from the window before he could see his own parents walk up, and counted the seconds between his breaths to fill the time until someone came to guide him to the dean’s office. It was an old trick some childhood doctor had taught him in a fruitless attempt to ease his anxious mind, but if nothing else it was good for giving him something to focus on until the worst of the misery was over. In-1-2-3-4-5. Out-1-2-3-4-5.

“Todd?” the nurse’s fluttery voice rang as the door to the informatory opened with a creak. Todd startled, tripping over his chair to stand and follow her down the quiet stone corridor. As they walked, she kept turning to him with her mouth opening and closing like a fish, as if she had something she wanted to say but couldn’t quite figure out how to word it. That made two of them.

Todd had never been to the dean’s office, but his mind was incapable of taking in the details of the room as his sight narrowed in on the stern faces of his parents waiting for him. Isaac had beaten him there, sat next to his own mother and father on the far side of the room, gaze turned firmly down. Todd stood in the doorway for a moment, daring him to look up, before a hand forced his shoulder down into the chair that awaited him.

The dean was a relatively young man, maybe in his mid-forties, with a clean-shaven face and sharply receding hairline that his horn-rimmed glasses did nothing to conceal. The soccer coach stood behind him, deep sadness on his face as he met Todd’s eye. He was probably as disappointed with this whole situation as anyone.

“Well, now that we’re all here, I suppose there’s no point in beating around the bush about the purpose of this meeting. I was told you were all briefed on the situation last night?” The dean asked, nodding towards the two sets of parents in front of him.

“Yes,” came a small chorus, only Todd’s mother turning to look disapprovingly at her son.

“Good,” the dean replied, pushing his glasses up on his nose as was his habit. He folded his hands and placed them on his impossibly tidy desk. “Now, we here at Balincrest of course do not in any way approve of such behaviors among our students, but I think you would all agree with me in saying that it’s in the best interest of all for this matter to stay strictly confidential.”

Four heads nodded.

“We wouldn’t want this to become a scandal even within the student body, because things get leaked and the like, so we need to forge a path forward that results in adequate discipline while also keeping gossip to a minimum.”

Todd deeply wished that his mother would stop staring at him with her piercing blue eyes. Her gaze pierced his skin and made him feel like salty sea water was flowing through him instead of blood. He tried to focus on the dean’s words, but could feel the panic rising in his stomach.

“I think it’s perfectly reasonable to say that it’s not sensible for the both of you to stay at this school,” the dean went on, glancing between Todd and Isaac, only one of whom was actually looking at him in return. “I’m not at liberty to say whether one or both of you were truly at fault for what happened here, but I can assure you that this matter will not end up on your permanent record regardless of what path we decide upon.” The dean directed his gaze at the crown of Isaac’s lowered head. “Now, Mr. Parker, I know the stakes are pretty high for you. Next year’s soccer captain, a chance at valedictorian, a full ride to Duke, I hear…”

Todd’s father now also turned to him, indignation on his face, and Todd suddenly understood what was going to happen. He would be expelled from Balincrest (not in so many words, of course) not because it was his fault, but simply because Isaac had more to lose. Balincrest could handle losing a mute leper with no connections, but could not handle losing its golden boy. He also realized in that moment that nothing he could possibly say mattered anymore. Any chance he had at redemption was lost when he did not fess up after the first incident.

The adults kept talking, Isaac’s mother even jumping in in defense of her son, but Todd had stopped listening. He’d never felt so small, so useless, such a burden on everyone else around him. He was a fool for thinking this would never come back to bite him—his ability to be invisible only lasted as long as his ability to keep his head down. No wonder his parents couldn’t seem to stand being around him: he was too dumb to even get away with the smallest of infractions. Jeffrey had the charisma to make his misbehavior seem natural, fun, misguided but ultimately entertaining. Todd was not charming enough to get away with anything, not smart enough to choose a fault that was not so taboo, not wise enough to keep from being a stain upon his family’s good reputation. He would be, from that day forth, forever marked by them as a mistake, a printing error on the Anderson family tree, a pariah, a leper. Ghosts, though invisible, were difficult to forget.

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd’s mother came into his room without knocking to get his laundry, though he’d been home for only a few hours. She couldn’t stand a single inch of the house to be untidy.

Todd was curled on his bed with his old beat-up copy of The Secret Garden, wishing the story could whip him away to a magical alternate universe as it had when he was a child. But if that day had proved anything, it was that his youth was gone from him without him even knowing it had slipped away. Welton. Fuck’s sake.

The long car ride home had been predictably tense. The first thing his parents were upset about was that he’d forced them to rearrange their schedules—his father missed an important horse race he had bets on (those bets turned out to be fruitful, but that didn’t matter), and his mother was meant to attend a vital meeting of their church’s women’s council that she’d now have to ask Evelyn Peterson for the notes from, and you know how I despise that woman. Next they were distraught over the fact that he’d been kicked out of Balincrest, which was such a wonderful school and they’d worked so hard to get him accepted there despite his shortcomings and now they’d have to get another place to take him that would be father away and more expensive and why couldn’t he just be good like Jeffrey?

For the longest time, they carefully avoided the reason why he’d been forced to leave, and he could mostly tune their chatter out because it was less about scolding him and more about hearing themselves talk. Eventually, though, their words started sticking out in his brain and he couldn’t help but listen.

“...never imagined that I’d raise a son that would do such a thing,” his mother was saying, obsessively fixing her hair in her small compact mirror despite not a single strand being out of place. “And so shamelessly! I thought I’d taught you better than that.”

His father glanced at him from the rear view mirror. Todd glowered at him in return. “Did you really do it, Todd, or did that older boy rope you into it?”

Todd wasn’t sure how to respond. Either of the black-and-white answers would be a lie, but his parents were notoriously not ones for complexity. He cleared his throat. “I-it was all him.”

“Hmph,” his father huffed, turning his eyes back towards the highway before them. The day was aggressively sunny, and the asphalt shimmered in the light. “I thought as much. He had a guilty look about him, that one.”

Todd said nothing.

“But you know that’s how the habit starts, isn’t it? Someone leads you into it and you just get hooked.” His mother suddenly turned to look over into the backseat, waving a nagging finger in his face. “And you listen to me now, Todd. That kind of thing cannot be tolerated in any decent society. It’s a nasty, unhappy way of life and it’s best to condemn it now before it’s too late to turn back. Do you understand?”

Todd nodded, and it seemed to satisfy her.

“And if anything like this ever happens again,” his father said, his voice growing low and gruff with shame. “We will not hesitate to beat it out of you with any means necessary.”

☽ ☼ ☾

“Todd,” his mother said as she grabbed his abandoned school clothes and folded them before placing them in her basket. “It’s been decided that you’ll go to Welton in the fall.”

She looked at him as if expecting a response, so he shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

“This is a very precious opportunity. You cannot afford to waste it.” No, you cannot afford to waste it, he thought.

“Okay,” he said again, and went back to his book.

☽ ☼ ☾

It’s a nasty, unhappy way of life. Those words rang in Todd’s ears as Saratoga Springs, New York entered a steaming hot summer. Todd spent most of his days locked up in his air-conditioned room with his books, the monotony only broken by him sneaking out to get meals, showering before bed, and his weekly excursions to the library to stock up.

While there, he occasionally tried to dig for things that mentioned his condition (he’d decided to call it a condition now—the American Psychological Association deemed it a mental disorder, alongside schizophrenia and social personality disorders, which was what made people psychopaths), but found it difficult to research a subject that seemingly no one wanted to talk about, and God forbid he ask the librarian—she was the one adult he knew that didn’t currently hate him. There was a report from about a decade prior that said homosexuality was far more present in society than most would like to think, and the long, drawn-out trials of a writer arrested for sodomy, but other than that, Todd could find very little that was not about the Bible, and no way in hell was he reading anything about the Bible. He laughed at the thought that it might burn when he touched it.

If he got bored of his books but was too scared to leave the safety of his room, he would stare out the window. It faced their large backyard, and most of the time when he looked out Jeffrey was back there playing soccer with his friends. It was their summer tradition, and Todd remembered the days when his mother would push him out of bed and out the door to “play with them” while she did her weekly top-to-bottom house cleanings. Todd usually ended up half-watching, half focused on his book from the edge of the open grass where they played. The older boys mostly looked upon him with anything from bemusement to outright contempt. No one wanted to be stuck playing with the lame little brother, least of all Jeffrey.

The exception to this was a boy named Christian Woods. Christian went to Welton with Jeff, and Todd knew they went head-to-head in just about everything—academics, sports, girls— and yet despite their competition, they were the best of friends. Christian happened to be a pretty big literature buff, and always had some comment or another about what Todd was reading when the boys stopped playing for a few minutes to cool off and drink Mrs. Anderson’s lemonade. Whatever Todd said in return (often very little), Christian smiled, flicking the cover of the book and telling Todd he had good taste before leaping up and joining his flock again.

Todd used to think about Christian a lot, back when puberty was first hitting him and his body ached with unfamiliarity. Christian’s dark eyes and fluffy walnut hair tended to pop into his head at the most awkward times. Stupid juvenile crush, he told himself now, but the word crush felt odd, even in his head. It wasn’t a crush, that was the thing ditsy girls had when they wished Jimmy would ask them to the prom. No, this was just a symptom of his condition—the one that appeared to be chronic and incurable. He liked to think himself wiser now at sixteen than when he’d been a few years younger, but Christian’s smile still made his heart flutter the tiniest bit. Unhappy. He could see that part.

☽ ☼ ☾

Jeffrey seemed to pop into Todd’s bubble more and more often as the summer went on. It was his last summer home before he started at Harvard in the fall (which their parents never failed to remind them of), and it seemed he finally decided to take an interest in his younger brother before he left for good.

Because Todd had magically been let out of school early, he’d been able to be there for Jeffrey’s graduation from Welton and get a glimpse of his new home for the next two years. He watched as his brother marched across the stage with that despicably fake grin on his face, then zoned out until a point near the end where it was Christian’s footsteps and smile. He shuddered at the thought of it being him up there in front of all those people.

After the painfully long ceremony was over, Jeff walked right up to his family and gave each of them a backbreaking hug. Todd didn’t remember the last time he and Jeffrey had been that close, but however long ago it was, they certainly hadn’t been the same height as they were now. It scared him a little, the unfamiliarity of this creature who shared his blood.

When they’d arrived home, Jeff asked all the usual questions about school and how had summer been and was he excited for Welton and why did they let him leave so early? His mother shot him a furtive glance to warn him not to say too much, but Todd needed no reminder—he wouldn’t let that secret out if they tortured him for it. He shrugged as his only response.

Jeffrey didn’t seem to want to let it go. He knocked on Todd’s door that evening, a piece of Todd’s favorite German chocolate cake in his hand as an excuse, and asked again: why was he home so early?

“Did something bad happen? At school, I mean,” he said as he placed the cake down on Todd’s desk, pushing a stack of books waiting to be returned to the side.

Todd froze. “No,” he replied quickly. “Nothing happened.”

Jeffrey was clearly still suspicious. “No one picked on you there, right? ‘Cause if you were defending yourself—”

Todd cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it! Nothing happened!”

Jeff seemed startled by the outburst. “Okay,” he said slowly, backing towards the door. “But, just so you know…if you ever need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

“I don’t need to talk.” You’d hate me if you knew, he thought bitterly.

“Okay,” Jeffrey said again, turning to leave. “Oh, and Todd?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure you take that plate down when Mom’s not around. You know she’ll flip if she finds it up here.”

☽ ☼ ☾

In August, he got the letter.

He’d started venturing out of his cave more and more, often walking to a spot deep in the nearby woods and laying out a blanket on the ground to read. Being around Jeffrey and his loud, laughing friends hurt too much now, especially as he saw his brother’s life slowly packed away, awaiting the coming move. When September came, who would he be? Same old meek Todd, only now the new kid at a school where the other boys had been building relationships for four years and running. A new kind of leper.

He thought of Isaac sometimes, and wondered if he was having as miserable a summer as Todd was. Had he told the same lie to his parents that Todd had, that it was all the other boy’s fault and he wasn’t culpable? Did he play soccer with his friends or lock himself away? Did he feel the same pit of dread in his stomach at the thought of going back to school?

It came in a heavy cream envelope, the paper thick with wealth typical of schools whose pockets were lined by the lower echelons of the upper class. It was the same paper as Balincrest, the same typewriter script, only the stamped school seal at the top was different.

Todd Anderson, read the top line. We are thrilled to have you join us at Welton Academy for the 1959-60 school year.

At the bottom was a school schedule laid out in a neat little table, on the next page was a map of the school and its grounds. The one line that inexplicably stuck out to him was one in the middle of the first page, in plain print.

Room #: 205. Roommate: Neil Perry.

#first reveal of the new and improved dpscu lore #im actually really proud of this ngl but like...not so much of the other chapters so far so idk when/if it'll end up on ao3 #its also kinda hard writing this to be period accurate cause i am not a gay man nor did i live through the 50s but we do what we can #anyways back to your regularly scheduled tags #dps #dead poets society #anderperry #todd anderson #dps fandom #dps fanfiction #should i make a writing tag? that seems like a good idea #phoenix writes :D #my post

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msviolacea · 6 months

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The current Honkai Star Rail ghost hunting event is maybe the best one yet - I love hanging out with Sushang, Guinafen, and Huo Huo, the social media thing is hilarious (especially once you know which canon characters belong to which screen names - i.e., that Jing Yuan is on fake ghost hunting tiktok teasing Fu Xuan about how short she is, lol) (I may ship it, just a little), and the lore they're dropping is really interesting. In that way, I'm really happy with HSR's "permanent" event setup, that future players can get this content without the special rewards, because if this was a limited time event I'd definitely be unhappy about how much character stuff and lore would disappear.

But anyway, the biggest thing I've come away with so far is feeling a LOT of sympathy for Yanqing, and considering the folly of a civilization/government attempting to erase their own history. Like, here's a kid, he's a member of an effectively immortal species, but he's a teenager - either in actuality or in relative age to his centuries-old fellows. Yes, he's a swordplay savant and has earned a place as a military officer at his young age, but he's still stupidly young. He's the protege of the Arbiter General, the most powerful man on the Luofu, but Jing Yuan has clearly not told him anything more of what truly happened with the High Cloud Quintet than is public knowledge. And that public knowledge appears to be no more than "So, these 5 were heroes, until Imbibitor Lunae and his (boy)friend did something unspeakable with Vidyadhara magic and got themselves exiled permanently. Also we erased the entire identity of the greatest swordsperson in our history and pretend she doesn't exist, don't ask us why." And I'm sure that there are plenty of people who are either old enough to remember what actually happened, or have parents/grandparents who witnessed what happened, but Yanqing is not one of them.

So we have this teenaged kid, with a relatively high level military rank and an ego to match that his mentor has indulged up until now, and a strong sense of right and wrong. He sees what he believes to be a blind woman wandering through an active combat zone and offers to escort her to where she's going. Unfortunately for him, that woman is the aforementioned sword champion whose entire identity has been erased from history, so he has no idea that she's a) the person he high-key idolizes, b) his mentor's old mentor, and c) gone semi-batshit with mara and here to fuck shit up. So she kicks his ass and laughs at him, which is the perfect way to get under a teenager's skin, and leaves him humiliated.

And then Yanqing hears that one of the two most infamous exiled criminals in the Luofu's history, who had been caught coming back and imprisoned, has escaped and is once again running around free. So, he goes hunting, because it's the duty of a Cloud Knight to capture this criminal, and also it's maybe a way to redeem himself. But once again, he doesn't have the full information, which is that a) this criminal is nearly as good at the sword as the woman who just kicked his ass, because she brutally trained him, b) this criminal is even MORE batshit marastruck because he's a more short-lived human, which shouldn't even be possible, and c) oh yeah, Imbibitor Lunae is also here, hiding as a member of the Astral Express crew, so now he's gonna have to fight BOTH of the most infamous exiled criminals in Luofu history. But he refuses to back down, so that goes about as well as one might expect.

But Jing Yuan shows up! So the day will be saved, right? But Yanqing hasn't really thought about the fact that these two criminals were once Jing Yuan's best friends - which he probably knew in the abstract, because he knows that Jing Yuan is the last surviving non-exiled member of the High Cloud Quintet - but has had no reason to contemplate what that might mean until now. And, well, these are the worst criminals in his people's history, right? So Jing Yuan is here to back him up?

Wrong. His beloved mentor actually snaps at him to back off, and then lets them go.

I mean, no wonder this kid is messed up. No wonder he lets a heliobus get into his head with promises of making him better, stronger, more worthy of being a Cloud Knight. I'm so glad that something permanent, that every player can access, addresses the way he's feeling after all that. And I'm glad that Jing Yuan acknowledges that it's his fault, his failing as Yanqing's master for not properly preparing him for this eventuality, or helping him process it afterward. Not that Jing Yuan did anything wrong in his dealings with Blade and Dan Heng, but the man is constantly playing 5D chess with the entire universe and never lets anyone in on his thoughts, which is his primary failing. An understandable one, given his circumstances, but not one that particularly helps anyone around him deal with the fallout from his schemes.

So yes. I have more feels about Yanqing than I ever thought I would. Join me next time when I have almost the same amount of feels about Qingque and how actually good she is at being a diviner when she's not using her clearly stellar brain to figure out new ways to slack off, and how I hope she ends up being Fu Xuan's second in command and is forced to bitch about it for the next several hundred years.

#jaime plays hsr #honkai star rail #listen this event is great for luofu character stuff #i love everything happening here

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soulren · 4 months

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There's bad places in the world, you know. I heard an old man tell me this, through a migraine aura so bad I felt like the sun was coming straight towards me and me alone. There are bad people in the world, he said, but those were simple. Thoughts and bad ideas, childhood shit that was never worked out curled like uncut fingernails into harm. Bad places are dramatically different. Somewhere you feel short of breath, for no reason at all. Somewhere a detail sticks out, unnerves you where it really shouldn't. Your feet crunch heavy in the snow beneath a bridge where someone spray-painted the words "daddy longlegs" into the wall. The second "l" is faded. The paint is thin, black. Too thin. They must've done it from afar, or had a lot of control. Thinking about those details helps you. You can almost pretend the cold on your skin is the only sensation the darker and damper parts of your brain is sending. Does it remind you of the attic? Most kids have an attic. Not their own, not their attic or your attic. The attic. The one they went up into with a friend or all alone, at a house that might've been their parents or someone else's. Back when every shadow and around every corner was a place that imagination flooded and grew like mold-filled maple syrup. The attic where one might race down, swearing that they heard something stir, that they saw a shape. The details are embellished later. And when something bad finally happens in that place, no matter how small, even if just a feeling, some small part of you blamed the attic. Blamed the bad place. Where nothing quite sat right, for a reason you just couldn't place. A place where you'd feel uncomfortable breaking the silence, or fixing the noise. The man I mentioned at the start didn't tell me all of this. He didn't have too. Just a bit. Enough to get the mind rolling. Now I'm saying just a bit more. Pushing the ball down the hill. Into the thicket where you worry you'll see eyes. Past that one tree that feels wrong to stare at in the field, even during the day. Away from that alley you'd rather not cut across even though you're big and grown now. Through that one spot on the train station where you imagine someone once got into a fight, surely. That'd explain that feeling. We like to imagine we'd recognize the supernatural. That we'd be able to point it out, to articulate it. That somewhere there's a big book that'll give you the locations of impossible places, people in busy hats and creatures with strange patterns in their fur. But for something to be wrong, to defy the natural, it would have to be outside our perception. When we look up into the sky our eyes do not affix onto dark matter. They see the stars. We love their beauty, are terrified by how they die, and use them to navigate. We don't see into the black holes, the pockets of nothing. We often like to imagine that in times before there were people who wielded magic, waved their hands or used what we now know to be science to solve things. But there were most certainly others. The tunnel rats. The ones who ran off, who stayed close, who noticed just a bit more, thought about things in just a bit of an odd way. Who noticed the bad places, felt unsettled by them. The truly wise to the unknown of the world aren't those who peer with magnifying glasses, or those who shake sticks in the desert, or anything in between. It's the ones who keep their mouths shut, absorb and shake at odd feelings they get up high on planes or in front of a row of pines stretching back deep into the mountains. Or above a grate between two apartments with a grey stain on one wall. The ones who, every time they get a feeling they haven't found in any dictionary yet, even the ones passed down by grandparents far more into the esoteric than them, despite a quiet and tentative desperation, silently hope that this isn't it. That this isn't the time when it happens, when it comes. When they see. When they realize. The ones who have no idea what "it" is. The ones who, though they may keep looking at them from afar, avoid the bad places.

#writing

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myfckingnameisnuwanda · 5 months

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Sugar Neighbour (Joongdok)

Kim Dokja walks down a hill on his way home, casually talking with his classmate Han Myungoh.

"What is so interesting about this neighbour of yours anyways?" Asks Myungoh, rather bored "You have never talked to the guy and yet he is all you ever talk about this days."

"I have talked to him!" Myungoh raises an eyebrow, doubtful. Kim Dokja squints "Shun the non believer! Shuuun!"

"You have to touch grass every once in a while, Dokja. Too many web novels will vaporize your brain juice."

"Brain juice? Now look who needs to touch grass."

Coughing a little, Myungoh ignores Dokja’s jab and changes the subject.

"So, why is the guy special, then?"

"Well, for starters; he is the most handsome guy I have ever seen. He would give you a thousand slaps across the face, Myungoh."

"Dude, what the fuck."

"And he is so skilful. He probably knows how to make everything. I wouldn't be surprised. Also, nobody can compare to him when it comes to video games. He'd be world champion if he had the time."

"I don't believe you. There are millions of people good at video games. You are exaggerating."

"I'm not. And you'd see him at the tournaments if he could get in them, I tell you." Insisted Dokja, firm.

"Why can't he get in them?" Myungoh suddenly gets a dark look in his eyes "You are not in love with a twelve year old, are you?"

"What the-? No, I'm not! Yoo Jonghyuk's only, like, two years younger than me!"

"Oh, so he is younger."

"Myungoh, I'm nineteen, I'm not a creepy old man."

"Well, you just told me Yoo Joonghyuk is seventeen years old. I don't know, man, sounds like you're on your way to becoming a creepy old man."

"Dude, I'll hit you so hard you will forget your gender."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

—————

Tap tap tap.

"Hey."

Taptaptaptap.

"Dokja."

"Gmrf."

"You never told me why the guy whom you are assaulting cradles for can't get in the tournaments." Asked Myungoh.

The look Dokja through Myungoh said many things that would have sent him home for the rest of the week.

He sighed, giving up.

"Basically, because he has a cradle of his own."

"... What?"

"So, I only know this because the walls in our apartment complex are paper thin, but his parents died at the beginning of the year, and he has a little sister, a literally newly born baby sister."

Incredulity filled Myungoh's eyes.

Every time Kim Dokja said something new about the mysterious neighbour, Myungoh was more and more sure this was a boyfriend-in-Canada kinda situation.

"And his grandparents have been taking care of them since the deaths of his parents, but they told Joonghyuk since the beginning that they would only do so till he was old enough to take custody of his sister." Kim Dokja continued "Because of that, he dropped out of school, left his hobbies, like the video games, and went on a job hunt immediately."

"That sounds..." Fake "Tough."

"I know, right?"

"Hmm..."

"But, anyways, if he doesn't find a decent job by a week before his birthday, I'll hire him as my cook or something and give him a ridiculously high pay. Don't look at me like that. You know I can and will. I will even give him social security, health, dental. Whatever he wants"

"You are crazy."

"Ah, but Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't know that yet."

"Dokja, are you planning on seducing the guy?"

"Nah, I just want to be able to see that face every day."

"What the-? Why do you say that like it isn't the craziest shit I've ever heard anyone say?"

Kim Dokja sighed again.

"I'm not crazy, you just have never seen him."

"Nah, man, I tell you, you sound like a stalker when it comes to this Yoo Joonghyuk." But even if he was, it wasn't like Myungoh would do much about it.

Kim Dokja was very physically weak, to the point of sickness a lot of times. The neighbour, if he was real, had a very high chance of being able to defend himself against Dokja.

It didn't occur to Myungoh that Dokja may use monetary or mental manipulation against the guy.

"I am not Yoo Joonghyuk's stalker."

"Then how do you know his birthday?"

"..."

Silence.

"... Casualty?"

Myungoh rolled his eyes.

"At least you're a terrible liar. Yoo Joonghyuk will be able to use that in his favour."

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aliensunflower-fics · 2 years

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CHANGING FACES Chapter 4: Breaking The News

[ Prefer to read on Archive of Our Own? Link HERE! ]

[ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter ]

After years of dealing with each other Lila Rossi win’s when she convinces Hawkmoth that Marinette is Ladybug. In order to throw off suspicion and keep the Miracle Box safe Marinette and her supportive parents leave Paris and head to Gotham of all places. In this new place away from her friends and her unhealthy routines Marinette is forced to confront herself and change for the better. Helping her on her journey is a surprising new friend and potential ally. When Alya missing her friend learns about the chance to win a free trip to Gotham she convinces the class to work hard to qualify. When her new life clashes with her old one will Marinette be able to hold on strong to her new confidence or will she crumble under the pressure?

( This fic will be for the most part comedic, fluffy, and sweet, with only a bit of seriousness to tie it together. With only the mildest salt because I don’t think the class or Adrien are bad people just that they can be naive and selfish thanks to the canon writing. I hope you enjoy reading this work and have fun with me on this journey. )

CHAPTER 4:

Breaking The News

Marinette had not felt so hopeful in years. Glancing up from her phone and cheap hotel breakfast she watched Tikki rub her tired eyes as she perched on the burnt and blackened metal sewing machine that acted as the hiding place for the miracle box, Tikki noticed her watching and shot her a warm smile that set the teen at ease and she returned to her phone call with her dearest ‘Gotham Family’ as they planned out her new room together.

Marinette had not spoken of them often in public but Tikki knew of them from the phone calls Marinette had throughout the years. Alfred was Marinette’s godfather and honorary grandpa; he was a close friend of her grandparents and had a secretive past. He was kind and wise with a knack for reading people. He had practically helped raise Tom and the family had remained close regardless of the long distance. And when Marinette was born he had been there just the same, and through the years he had come for visits and phoned often enough that Marinette called him family.

Alfred had many honorary grandchildren having never settled down himself but he loved them just the same. Out of his ‘brood’ however Marinette only knew 2 of them from when Alfred was still able to visit regularly. They were her ‘big brothers’ Dick and Jason. Alfred had taken them to Paris several times when Marinette was younger, they had held her when she was a baby, played tea party and dress up when she was a little girl. The visits had stopped when Jason got kidnapped and was presumed dead but Dick and Alfred still stayed in touch through emails and frequent calls. And when Jason was finally found and his memories recovered he also started phoning again too.

Marinette loved her Gotham family (even if she was a little annoyed they never told her about her parents' time living there or her being born there) and she often talked about meeting the rest of Alfred’s grandkids and his ‘kid’ Bruce but the 3 of them always had an excuse.

Jason would often talk about his old man being horrible and Marinette worried that maybe this ‘Bruce’ wasn't as nice as Alfred said he was. When she asked however Jason denied it stating that it was more a disagreement of principles and that they were working on it in therapy. She knew it was a sore subject and dropped it instead choosing to chat about their other points of interest. They'd binge watch bad tv dramas together through video call and Jason would send book recommendations. On bad days where his past trauma resurfaced he'd send Marinette clown emojis to signify it was a ‘clown day’ and she’d send him pictures of ugly clothing being sold and they’d text back and forth tearing the cheap designs apart.

Dick would counter her questions by whining that Marinette wanted to replace them and that he and Jason didn't want to share her. He’d pout and tease and joke and soon Marinette would forget about meeting the rest of the family until their next phone call. Eventually Dick DID cave to Marinette’s puppy eyes and introduced her to his girlfriend who eventually became fiancee then wife (who Marinette happily designed a dress for when asked) and now Marinette got regular calls with Dick his wife and their adorable little daughter Ma’ri. She loved being called “Aunty bug” even if the nickname had originally given her a heart attack (Tikki had said it was her fault for making Ma’ri a giant plush Ladybug) and she grinned when Dick told her how her gifts always won over all the rest of the families' pricey presents.

Alfred should have been the reasonable one of the bunch and Marinette often tried to ask when she’d meet the rest of his family only for him to skillfully dodge the subject and distract her before she could properly ask. After the hundredth time of him dodging she finally managed to ask and Alfred had sighed before finally telling her honestly that after Jason’s kidnapping things had only gotten more complicated with the family dynamic and many new additions had made things delicate. If he ever introduced Marinette to the rest of the family he hoped it would be under better terms and in person. That conversation had been when Marinette was 10 and 6 years later she made sure to never ask again trying to respect her Gotham family's privacy and emotional needs.

But things were changing soon because in a month's time Marinette and her family would be American citizens. The old bakery her parents still owned in Gotham was getting a fresh coat of paint and some updates and repairs to make it Dupain-Cheng worthy. Gina had moved to Gotham temporarily to see to the renovations personally with Alfred. When Jason found out he volunteered to help fix up the ‘home’ portion with new paint and appliances though it was clear he was showing his favoritism when he jokingly texted the group chat a picture of paint options for the living room all various shades of pink. From Jason’s blatantly suspicious behavior, Dick and his family found out about the big move and they ALSO insisted on helping.

Which led to Marinette and her poor overworked cell phone handling many calls about furniture paint and more. It was chaotic and messy but somehow it was also fun and relaxing and the pictures she got of a paint war aftermath with both Dick and Jason coated in pink paint with a victorious and spotless Ma’ri and Kori grinning in the background made Marinette all the more certain of her decision to leave Paris.

Her parents were glowing as they planned their new larger and better bakery. Sure Marinette’s mom occasionally broke into hate filled violent rants about the exact gruesome ways she planned on ‘punishing’ Hawkmoth (because death was apparently to merciful an end) and her dad still sighed at old pictures of there home but they were both ready to take on this new journey and regalled Marinette with tales of there life in Gotham and the friends they made.

The kwami were also delighted by news of the move, talking about the safety hiding in a new place would provide and how their guardian was glowing with new energy and positivity. Kalki was preening at the news they would be getting out more often. But out of them all Wayzz had been a bit more cryptic saying that Gotham would welcome her as much as she welcomed it he then insisted they begin teaching her magic. Now THAT had been a surprise. Sure she was already training with Amazonians but actual magic?!

Marientte was skeptical at first, sure that training her in magic would only end in destruction and failure, her anxiety ridden mind sabotaging her before she even tried. But The kwami were buzzing about the idea and so Marinette gave it a try, surprised at how natural it felt to her once she started. She had not done anything big yet, just simple things like locating talking to the kwami with her mind instead of her voice and changing the appearance of some of the miraculous to look more modern and easier to hide. Well Marinette thought these things were pretty major but according to the kwami it was simple for a guardian of her caliber.

But amidst all the phone calls, excitement, hotel living, magic training, Hawkmoth cursing and more Marinette had been pushing aside one rather ugly little task that she wanted to avoid for as long as she could.

She had yet to tell her friends.

With how busy she was it should have been easy to forget about it, but she hadn't if anything it was a thorn constantly pressing into her side. Every phone call about paint and furniture, every joke with her Gotham family and excited happy smile they shot her, every conversation or decision Marinettemade, she felt the sting. She was scared. She was terrified. She was guilty.

There was of course the fear of losing her friends but more than losing them she feared DISAPPOINTING them. She feared their upset faces, their teary eyes, their pleading voices asking her if she really had to leave them, asking her to stay, asking her to be there everyday ladybug forever.

Marinette loved her friends, really she did. They were good, kind, honest people. But they always made her feel so GUILTY. So trapped by her own anxieties and their expectations that the word ‘no’ felt like a sin on her lips. They relied on her expected of her, they depended on her and each attempt to turn them down had them drowning her in guilt while Adrien looked at her with disappointment and Lila grinned and whispered words that only made the guilt worse.

Marinette loved her friends, but she knew a part of their friendship had become toxic.

Worse, she knew that it wasn’t entirely Lila’s fault. Certainly the fox-like girl had not helped matters with how she wielded guilt like a weapon of war. She had perfected the art of whipping the class up getting them to ask her questions that tore into her tender heart.

“But why can't you help Marinette?”

“You know how much this means to me?”

“You know how much I need help?”

“Don't you care about us Marinette?”

“Real friends would help.”

“Lila offered to help so why can't you?”

Marinette had worn herself to the bone helping her friends. She was use to saying yes without a thought and when she inevitably crashed or needed help herself Lila was there again whispering words that made her friends doubt her. But her classmates and Lila were not the only one responsible, so was Marinette. She had never tried to talk to them, never tried to sit them down and tell them honestly about her own feelings, she let them use her and called it love and friendship because she was so scared that saying ‘no’ would mean losing them all.

With only a month left until she got on a plane and started a new chapter of her life, Marinette knew she owed it to her friends to tell them. Sure she would still see them regularly as Ladybug since Hawkmoth loved targeting her school and classmates but it would not be the same. She could not hang out with them as Ladybug. Tikki had even asked if she wanted to tell Alya about her being Ladybug but Marinette was not ready for that just yet. Especially not when Hawkmoth clearly had an interest in Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

As Marinette alarm rang she ended the call with Jason telling him in no uncertain terms that he was NOT to buy her the stupidly expensive pink laptop he found and that she would get herself a new one once she moved to Gotham with her own money. He gave a devious smile and Marinette groaned in frustration as she hung up the call and shoveled the last of her cheap hotel breakfast into her mouth and gathered her things to go to school. Her parents were already out that morning to get paperwork sorted and arranged for the big move.

Tikki zipped into Marinette’s bag and she left the hotel room locking it safely behind her before jogging down past the receptionist who she waved to eagerly and out of the hotel to catch the train to school. On her way to school Marinette’s mind raced as she thought of how to break the news to her friends. She knew Mme. Bustier would not keep quiet about it forever, it was frankly a miracle that the teacher had not exploded keeping the news to herself for so long.

Getting off at her stop and then walking to school Marinette saw several of her classmates arriving to school including Adrien who shot her a smile as he got out of his car. The sight of his dazzling smile made Marinette’s stomach flutter briefly before those butterflies got squashed by Lila exiting the car right after Adrien and latching herself to the blonde's arm with a happy giggle.

Marinette didn’t really like Adrien anymore. Sure she still thought he was the cutest guy ever and felt flustered by his bright green eyes. But the past few years had created a massive gap in their relationship and there were some things Marinette could not forgive him for even if the blonde himself was utterly oblivious. Shaking off her thoughts, Marinette focused on her mission and stole her heart for what lay ahead ignoring the feeling of eyes on her.

As Marinette made her way to class she heard the chattering of her classmates and her heart rate increased. She felt like she was going to be sick and the only thing keeping her grounded was the feeling of Tikki’s warmth pressing into her side from the purse. Stepping into the classroom Marinette stopped at the front and waited for everyone to be there. This was common for her as she was the class president and as her classmates noticed her one by one they stopped talking to look at her expectant smiles plastered on their faces.

Was she going to be announcing a fundraiser to rebuild her family's bakery? Or maybe a fun new trip for the class to go on? What if it was news about the back to school fall bash? Or maybe Lila’s petition to save the polar bears had been approved by Damocles? As the whispers and hushes of excitement grew and the last of Marinette’s classmates scurried into the room and quickly took a seat Marinette took a shaky breath and focused on the back wall unable to look any of her friends in the eye.

“Good morning guys.” Her mouth was dry and she tried desperately to swallow. “As I’m sure you're all aware, a week ago my family's bakery… Burned down. In an accident.”

A ripple of whispers went through the class and Marinette put on a fake smile to try and put her friends at ease as she licked her dry lips nervously.

“My family has been living in a hotel and after a lot of thought we decided to move-”

A loud bunch of chattering cut Marinette off mid sentence as her classmates all chittered excitedly about the move. Would they get a bigger bakery? Would they further out into the city? Marinette cleared her throat, regaining her classmates' attention.

“We decided to move… To America.”

There was a brief few moments of silence before the whole room exploded into a cacophony of noise. Between the screaming and screeching of chairs and tables and people, Marinette could just barely make out questions of ‘why’ and ‘where’ and ‘she can't be serious?’. In the chaos before her Marinette could not help but notice the look of horror frozen on Adrien’s face. The utter shock and disbelief on Chloe’s as she yelled and argued with those around her arguing it was her fault. The betrayal and near tears of Alya. The confusion and disbelief of Nino. But most of all she could not help but notice the smirk on Lila’s lips and the way her eyes looked down on Marinette in that moment. It sent a shiver of cold up Marinette’s spine and she quickly looked away biting her lip as she filed the information away for later.

For now Marinette knew she should try to regain control of the class and she tried several times calling for them to listen only for her voice to drown in the sea of confusion she’d helped make. As her desperation mounted so did her frustration until finally she pursed her lips and whistled LOUD. The high pitched sound cut through the confusion and her classmates clapped their mouths shut to cover their ears instead. After the last voice died Marinette took a deep breath and lifted her head ready to face her friends and all the guilt they could throw her way.

Rose struck first teary eyed and wailing. “T-This isn't a funny joke Marinette!”

Ouch a tough one right off the bat. Swallowing her guilt and stealing her heart, Marinette faced Rose honestly and openly as her friend.

“It's not a joke, Rose. It was a hard choice to make but it's what my family decided was best for us.”

“But why?” Marinette’s heart clenched as she turned to face Alya the girl was looking at her like Marinette had just torn her heart out and stepped on it.

Marinette bit back her tears and took deep calming breaths reminding herself to be strong as she answered her best friend.

“My parents… They wanted to move to America even before Hawkmoth arrived. But they stayed for my sake because I have friends here. But now Hawkmoth is getting more dangerous each day and then the fire… It was just the last straw. They don't think I’m safe here anymore.”

Silence filled the class as everyone considered her words. None of them wanted Marinette to leave but none of them could argue with such a reason. Many of their own families had thought about leaving Paris at one point in the last few years thanks to Hawkmoths reign. The fact that one family had finally been pushed to do just that was inevitable really.

“B-but.” Alya stood from her seat fighting back tears. “But… But… We're going to miss you.”

Marinette felt herself suck in her breath as her face went hot and her eyes began to burn with fresh hot tears. As she tried to get her feelings under control she saw Alya wipe her eyes and that was all it took for Marinette to let out a sob.

“I… I'M GOING TO MISS YOU GUYS TOO!”

As Marinette desperately wiped away her tears and rubbed her eyes she felt her resolve break a little.

“I-I promise to phone a-all the time! And we c-can do movie nights o-over Discord! A-and I will s-send you guys gifts all the t-time! W-We can still be friends!”

Suddenly strong warm arms wrapped around Marinette breaking her out of her spiral as she removed her hands from her eyes she saw Alya holding on to her tightly.

“Of course w-were still gonna be your friends! Paris, America or the North Pole, you're not getting rid of us that easily!”

Marinette felt her breath hitch and fresh tears fill her eyes as she hugged back within seconds most of the rest of the class joined in on the group hug and they held each other and made promises of how they would all stay in contact and continue to hang out. It was enough to certainly stop any of Hawkmoth butterflies before they had a chance.

As the hug broke off Marinette wiped her wet eyes and smiled shakily at the class. No one was happy but they also were not akuma bait anymore so it was a win. As the class chattered more about ways they could hang out with Marinette through a computer the good vibes were suddenly interrupted by Lila subtly clearing her throat.

“Oh i'm so sorry for interrupting guys I’m just desperate to know WHERE In America you're moving Marinette? Being a diplomat's daughter I lived there for a bit myself!”

Marinette felt her body stiffen at Lila’s honey covered words. The Italian had been strangely docile since the fire. Marinette was torn between trying to decide if Lila was taking pity on her or planning something and now with the strange smile and glint in her eyes Marinette was sure of it. As the class urged Marinette to tell them more, the baker girl focused on building her alibi; she didn't want Lila to have any room to turn things around and somehow make things about herself.

“We're moving to Gotham actually. Apparently my parents met there and I was even born there. They are very excited to be moving back after all these years.”

The second the words ‘gotham’ left Marinette’s lips Lila’s eyes widened and her body went rigid. But it only lasted a second and when Marinette blinked Lila was smiling again and looked relaxed.

“Gotham? Oh I spent a few years there actually! But Marinette, are you sure your family will be okay? It's sooo dangerous there.”

As the class excitedly asked Lila for more information Marinette felt her brows furrow. The details Lila was able to give as she answered the eager questions was more than she would normally ever give when she lied so Marinette felt inclined to believe it. Her strange reaction was another clue. But it was all very strange and something about Lila’s overall attitude since the fire had her instinct flaring up.

As Mme. Bustier finally entered the class and the students all scurried to their desks. As Marinette took her seat in the back she let out a deep breath. Things had gone better than she could have hoped. And while her heart still weighed heavy in her chest, the fact that her friends were ready to make an effort to keep her in their lives was good. Lila had also been strangely merciful. Marinette had expected the girl to try and spin Marinette’s move as being a result of the grudge or to try and make the class turn on Marinette with feelings of betrayal. But if anything Lila’s restraint was only more suspicious, her obvious joy at Marinette leaving, and her reaction to Gotham all of it just raised more questions.

As Bustier called on Marinette to help pass out papers for the class the girl let her thoughts slip away. She’d think more about it later. For now she wanted to enjoy one of her last days in Paris with her friends.

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#daminette #maribat #adrien salt #class salt #alya salt #alya redemption #alya sugar #Marinette deserves better #BAMF Marinette #class redemption #adrien bashing #lila bashing #lila salt #lila gets exposed #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #my fic #Changing Faces Fic

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