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medusapelagia · 9 months

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25 Au-gust: Joker (Western)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: mention of violence, mention of raping, use of the world Indians to define Native Americans WC: 2665

Eddie sighs, he knew that, as a first job, they would have sent him to some shit place, but god, Hawkins didn’t even seem like a town!

There was a big saloon, a prison, an emporium, and a few houses.

“They are building the railway.” The coach’s man tells him, while helping him with his bag “Stay away from trouble and you’ll be ok.”

Eddie snorts, that’s the very same thing that Wayne told him when he accepted the job.

“Thanks for the advice, man.” he replies, getting his things and walking into what seems like a hotel but it could also be a brothel.

“What do you want?” An angry woman asks him “I need a place to stay, I’m the new teacher.”

The woman laughs loudly “That’s what they sent us? A teacher? We need a fucking sheriff!”

Eddie shrugs “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about sheriffs, I’m here to teach your sons how to read and write.”

“And you really think we need that? Our sons need to learn how to plow the land or how to take the herd to pasture. The majority of them are working in the mines! We don’t give a fuck about reading!”

Eddie keeps smiling, it’s not the first time that he has had this kind of conversation. These are people who came here, in the middle of nowhere, hoping to find some fortune and find themselves stuck between rocks and Indians.

“Fine. However, I still need a place to sleep. Is this a hotel?” he asks.

The woman studies him for a long time and then he nods.

“Seven dollars a week and you have to pay in advance.”

Shit. He hasn't even started the job and he is already going to spend most of it.

“Is lunch included?”

“Breakfast. And any advanced food from lunch.”

Fuck.

Ok. Ok. It’s not a big problem, as soon as he starts to teach his students will bring him something from their houses. Or at least that’s what Wayne taught him to do when he was young and he really hopes that his new students will do the same because, if not he will die of hunger in this fucking shit hole.

He nods and the woman shows him a little room with a bed, a table, and nothing more.

He sighs, he already misses his home, but he loves to teach and in his hometown,there was no place for him. Maybe his next job will be in a better town.

“Can you show me the school?”

The woman turns toward him and starts to laugh.

***

The school is actually an abandoned barn that still smells like horseshit.

“Are you the new teacher?” a handsome man asks while Eddie is trying to understand if somewhere there are some desks and chairs or if his students will have to sit on the ground.

“No, I’m the new sheriff!” he replies sarcastically.

“For real? I thought… oh… you are joking.”

Eddie turns toward him, the man seems so sad that all he can do is offer his hand to him “Eddie Munson, teacher, and musician.”

“Steve Harrington, farmer and nothing else.”

“Please tell me, Mr. Harrington, what were you doing in my school?”

“Actually… I wanted to see if it was true that the new teacher has arrived.” he says smiling so sweetly that Eddie feels something warm filling him inside.

“And why is that?”

“My kid, Dust. He is really clever and he deserves an education. You know, I never got one.” he lowers his eyes, playing with the dirt with his boots “My father always said that I was too stupid and he was right. But Dustin is so fucking brilliant! He could do so many great things if given the opportunity! But we only got a teacher for less than a year.” he sighs “Not so many kids here, you know? It is a hard place to live in. But me and Dust, well, we like it here. It’s hard but peaceful. And at sunset, when we sit on the porch smoking, well, I smoke, Dustin just plays pretend but… It’s nice.”

Eddie nods “Seems like that. So I’m going to see your son tomorrow for my first lesson.”

Steve nods, and then he points toward the church “I think you should ask Father Jim if he would let you use the church for your lesson. Much better than this place.”

***

“No, no, no. I will not let the kids play in the house of god!” Father Jim replies, looking deeply offended.

“But the kids need some guidance, spiritual and material! We could join our forces and help them!”

The man shakes his head “You are a nice boy, Eddie, but you know nothing about the people that live here. They don’t care about the tuition of their children, they go to church only because they are scared that if they will not something bad will happen to them. I thought you heard what happened to the Harringtons.”

“Harringtons?” Like Steve Harrington, the cute boy he saw a few hours before?

The priest nods.

“Richard Harrington and his wife, Catherine, were killed in their house. Their son, Steve, escaped death miraculously and came back a few years ago with a child.”

“What happened?"

Father Jim sighs "Nobody knows exactly what happened. Rumors said that Neil Hargrove fell in love with Catherine and tried to kidnap her. Maybe her husband fought back, or maybe Hargrove was looking for blood. In any case, they were both murdered and no one took their farm until their son came back. They live on that farm." the man says, pointing to a big farm far from the town "It used to be the biggest farm we had, but now they have just a couple of cows and some horses."

***

On Monday Eddie starts his first lesson in the barn, and no one is attending.

He has seen some of the boys go to the mine with their fathers and he has tried to convince them to let them go to school, but the fathers refused.

He is sitting, drawing some stupid doddles with a stick, when a curly boy enters the barn.

"I'm sorry for being late! My father needed help with the cows. Well, he said that he did not but he did, so I stayed, and then he had to ride with me to get me here, but everyone hates us so we had to take the long way and... Are you alone?"

Eddie looks at the boy who suddenly stops to talk "Are you Dustin?"

He nods.

"I met your father yesterday."

The boy smiles "I know! I was so excited when I heard that a new teacher was coming, but Steve is really protective of me, so he wanted to make sure that I was in good hands. And I thought he was expecting a lady teacher because he wore his best hat, to hide the scar you know? And then he said that I could come and... oh! He told me to give you this!"

This, Eddie finds out, is an apple a little crushed on the side but that smells delicious.

"You know what? I have a room with a desk and a chair! Why don't we have our lesson there?"

"In your room?"

"It's not the best place in the world but still much better than a barn!"

While he walks toward the hotel with Dustin, he notices how everyone is avoiding them, some of them even cross themselves.

"I can go back home if you don't want to be seen with me."

"Why shouldn't I want that?"

"You know. People talk. And they do not like us. Steve says that they are jealous and envious of my talent, but he loves me too much."

"He told me you are really clever."

"That's because to him anyone who can add two and two is a genius!" he laughs.

Eddie doesn't know what it means exactly, but when he does some little test he easily finds out that Dustin is really clever indeed.

"And you studied with a teacher only for one year, is that correct?"

He nods.

"Miss Nancy was very nice. She gave me many books to read. I read them all but my favorite where about monsters, and knights."

Eddie smiles, he has a couple of those books "Why don't you take this one, and then you tell me what you liked the most?"

The big smile that Dustin gives him it's enough to win him over and he finds himself eager to teach him everything he knows.

***

In a couple of months, he has convinced some of the miners to send their sons to school at least once a week, and Father Jim has finally agreed to give him some space for his lessons while the barn is completely forgotten but Eddie is satisfied, he has a place to teach and he has his students. Especially Dustin, who sits always in the back but is the most brilliant of the class, and when he doesn't see the curly boy for three days in a row he asks for a horse and goes to his farm.

The farm is big and it has a lot of potential, it's obvious that it needs more than one person to deal with the animals, but he can see what a marvelous farm it used to be and how it could return to be.

What he is not expecting is seeing a riffle pointed at him as he gets closer to the farm.

"We don't want any trouble. Go away."

The voice is the same he heard months ago, but the tone is sterner.

"Steve. It's me. Eddie. The new teacher!" he says, removing his hat and letting his dark curls fall on his shoulder.

The man lowers the riffle and looks at him astonished "What are you doing here?"

"Dustin wasn't in class in the last few days and I wanted to know why."

"He is not feeling well." Steve explains to him "But he will come back to school as soon as he gets better.

"Do I have to call the doctor or..."

"No! We are fine! I'm taking care of him! Now you can go back where you came from and thanks for the visit." He replies, not moving from the porch, but Eddie is not going to have any of that.

"I'm not going to leave until I see the boy! You are hiding something and I'll find out what it is!" he replies getting closer.

"Listen, I don't have time...”

"Steve! Steve! They are coming! They are coming!" Dustin screams from inside the farm and Steve turns and runs inside the house, followed by Eddie.

"Hey. Hey. I'm here. No one is coming. Ok? I'm here. You are fine."

The boy is clearly feverish.

"He needs a doctor!" Eddie insists, but Steve shakes his head and takes a strange concoction that is boiling on the fire.

"Can you drink this for me, kid? Just a few sips."

The boy takes a sip, and then he makes a disgusted face.

"I know, I know, it's bitter, but you will feel so much better later, you know that right?" he comforts him, keeping the cup close to his mouth.

The kid nods and takes another couple of sips before falling asleep.

"He needs a doctor Steve." Eddie repeats "If his fever doesn't break soon..."

"It will."

"How do you know that?"

Steve sighs, and then leans on the back of the chair "Do you know why everyone hates us? Dustin and I?"

Eddie shakes his head and Steve continues

"When Neil Hargrove came to our town he killed my parents and left me for dead no one came from the town. No one helped us. They stayed closed in their stupid houses while we were slaughtered.” He closes his eyes for a moment “My father was not the nicest man in the world, but he fought for my mother. Hargrove killed him with a bullet in his head. Then he raped my mother and when he was satisfied, he gave her to his men. But me? He wanted me. More than anything. He raped me and beat me so hard that he broke my skull and thought that I was dead, or dying.

That night the Indians came too." he sighs "Abey told me that she had a dream of a baby deer in peril and when her husband found me she knew I was her baby deer. They nursed me back to health and taught me all I know, but when the railway workers got too close they had to move, and I couldn't go with them because I had a kid who was too white to be an Indian. That's why they hate me. Why they hate us. They consider me a half-Indian, and they know that Dustin is half-Indian too. They would send me away if they could, but the land it's mine and I know things..." he laughs, a dry laugh "You know what the funny thing is? That there is no doctor in this town. If anyone needs medical attention, they come to me. They need me, but they still hate me because I treat them with herbs and the Indians' method." he passes a hand into his hair and Eddie sees the horrible scar on the side of his head. He sighs "That's why I know that Dustin's fever will break." He concludes, getting up and going to the kitchen.

Eddie follows him, like a moth to a flame.

“I will understand if you do not want to teach Dustin, now that you know.” He clears his voice “I’ll tell him that I need him on the farm and he can’t go back to school. He will be made for a while, but it will be ok.”

“Why should you do that? Dustin is a brilliant student, I love to teach him and I don’t care if he is half-Indian or what. He is a good guy. Caring and loving and I’m lucky to have him in my class.”

"He is." Steve agrees, stirring some soup “Would you stay for dinner?”

Eddie nods, getting closer to help him with the plates, and he notices that all the spices have no name but little symbols.

“I could teach you, you know?”

“Uh?”

“To read. And to write. If you want to?”

Steve chuckles “I’m too stupid. Dustin tried to teach me once but it didn’t end well.”

“Because Dustin is very intelligent but he is no teacher. He is a resourceful and clever boy, but he gets too restless. He probably wanted you to learn everything in a day and then got frustrated. But I can teach you. And don’t tell me again that you are stupid because you just told me that you learned how to treat illness with herbs.”

“I… I would like to learn how to write my name. To sign papers you know.” He admits, lowering his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second, he takes a scrap of paper and charcoal and writes down in big letters STEVE, and then turns the paper toward the other boy “Try to copy that.”

They eat the soup in silence, while Steve keeps writing his name on the piece of paper and the letters become less shaky and more firm. They stop a couple of times when Steve gives Dustin his medicine, and when Dustin’s fever finally breaks, Steve is almost able to write his name.

Outside the sun is rising, and Eddie gets back to his horse “Tell Dustin that I’ll wait for him in class.” He says, and then he whispers to Steve’s ear “And I’m always willing to give you some private lessons, big boy.”

He does not turn to see Steve’s expression but he can almost feel the stern half-Indian boy blush.

#tumblr fic #myfanfic #steddie #au gust 2023 #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #writing challenge #western #medusapelagia fanfic #medusapelagia #my fanfic

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alienssstufff · 1 year

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If you get the time and inclination pls do share with us your beef with the existing zombie apocalypse genre, I have my own feelings about it (I think it overshadows other types of fictional apocalypses a bit too much in most ppl's heads) but I'd love hearing someone else's take on it (and also how you would improve the genre if you like :3 )

oh ABSOLUTELY it does! One way its probably the easiest type of apocalypses to write abt just cuz there’s already so many and such an established I guess wwww scenario and tropes to it (?) In consequence bc of how ‘easy’ it is, it becomes so damn samey and the zombie apocalypse genre (and apocalypses genres as a whole) gets such bad rep for that reason. [The rest atp is me ranting abt zombie apocalypses specifically those are the ones I have beef with]

When I ask ppl why they don’t like apocalyptic stories most answers is just the amount of carnage that’s in them it’s horrible— to put it better: unnecessary violence in an already terrible world is what they think abt. When people think of apocalypse stories they think of the movies made in Hollywood. Muscular, American white man whos good at everything who kicks ass and saves the world singlehandedly. And the rep for zombie-driven games aren’t any better either… Not saying that stories of kicking ass taking names are ALL bad but most of it is very surface level reasoning as to why . That being said I wish there was more focus on mental health in zombie stories, realisations that the world ended and they’ll never go back to how it was before, instances of the struggles of learning how to adapt to this new way of living. There’s many topics that could be discussed and so many themes that haven’t been fully developed (or done poorly) in zombie apocalypses but seldom media’s deliver u_u

I think the zombie stories that stand out to me the most are the ones that revolve around normal people. There’s an vid essay somewhere that talks abt the success of Train to Busan as a movie, it’s still just as action packed as the ones above but it’s also rly freaking emotional as the characters and cultural themes they represent can hit p close to home for the target demographic. Also I cannot recommend enough Gakkou Gurashi (School Live)! It’s almost never talked about solely cuz of Episode 1 and even now I’m trying to be as vague as I can Please watch that anime/manga you will not regret it.

And finally worldbuilding always a sucker for worldbuilding I need more of it. Not how to stop it but more of How The Hell we fucked up that badly to ended up in this situation. Give me zombie stories of patient 0s, pov scientists fumbling in the lab etc I want THAT. I freaking love the worldbuilding in The Last of Us , such a unique way in designing zombies inspirations from real life (I believe funghi that controls dead ants). That freaking hospital part in TLOU2 will always have a lasting impression on me the environmental storytelling of the flooded hospital and the whole backstory of how the Rat King came to be an amalgamation of all the victims of Seattle’s Patient 0 zone forced to fuse because of the such claustrophobic and wet conditions of the basement OHMYFUCKINGVGG its so well thought out.

Overall my frustrations with apocalypses is just - the amount of untouched potential and themes that SHOULD be addressed but aren’t - to get creative with it. And even without mention of the worldbuilding stories of the average joe like u and I trying to do smth as ‘simple’ as going to the store but there are mental and physical struggles along the way would be fine too - u don’t need to fly a jet and shoot a rocket launcher to make things interesting. Relatability and/or creativity is what I wish.

[this was so fun to think abt anon if u have things u wanna share feel free to shoot another ask I’m all ears!]

#ask stufff #stufff rambles #long post #for a hot min thought u asked abt apocalypse!vintage beef and I was like irl:#HOW DID YOU READ MY NOTES???!!#this is… SO LONG -but I’m determined (finished this at 3am)#I’ll check it again in a few hours but remind me ti add a Read More when I get back xwz #forgive if these make no sense im sleepy

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risingshine · 4 months

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Your name: Harmony Halcyon

Romantic or platonic?: …I was hoping romantic, but it’s okay if it’s platonic!

A night in or dinner out or an activity?: I’m flexible. It doesn’t have to be expensive or anything like that. We can eat out or have a picnic. I don’t mind staying at home and make dinner, too.

Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: Ice cream, please. Though, I like chocolate covered strawberries, I like ice cream a little more.

What's your perfect date?: I want to spend time with you. I don’t care how we do that or where we will go. We can eat somewhere, make something together, or maybe go for a stroll or just sit together sharing stories. Any date will be perfect with you.

Would you cook for me?: Of course!

Would you let me cook for you?: You can if you like. I don’t want to be pushy about it, though.

Can we make-out?: …Would that be okay?

Make out in private or in public?: I may ask to do that privately.

Do you like to cuddle?: I do.

Blankets or no blankets for cuddling?: It depends on how warm or cold it is. I would want blankets when it’s cold. I’m pretty sensitive to that despite growing up in a cold place. I like hiding under blanket nests, which is what I call a bunch of blankets around. Oh! I’m sorry! Your comfort is important too. We can stick with what you like better.

Couch or bed?: Either works!

What are at least 3 hobbies of yours?: I love being around nature, so I like to hike and explore the wilderness. My other hobbies are doing beadwork, swimming, and I like to bake too! Sometimes, I knit as well.

Tell me something about you no else knows: I’m not from here. I’m Native American but came to Japan because my dad was sent to serve an Air Force base in Tokyo. How that happened…Well, it’s a very long story. Anyway, my parents went back after he ended his service, but I stayed because of the opportunities here. I know I can go to university and do well in my home country too, but…Well, I don’t know…I guess Japan grew on me. Learning the language and the culture wasn’t easy at first. Sometimes, I still have some trouble with Japanese, but I am very open about learning about the history and culture of the country.

Why do you want to be my valentine?: Please, please, please forgive me for being brash, but I think you’re beautiful. You have been around for many, many years. I want to learn about the history through your eyes, discover the beauty Japan has to offer with your heart. I also think you are a kind kami. That’s what I hear people say about you. I want to learn more about you and spend time with you. I think this will be a great time for that, so that is why I want to be yours.

What makes you a good Valentine?: I work incredibly hard and I always want to do what brightens my valentine’s day. I like to think it’s longer term than just that day. I want to be with you and love you every single day. Valentine’s Day is not only a day where you share love with people you care about. It’s actually a day to remember that we should love the people close to our hearts every day. I live by that, and I like to think it makes me a good valentine.

"I'm flattered, Hari! I'd love to go on a romantic date with ya! We can go hiking and take a picnic with ice-cream and homemade treats from the both of u!

The we can go home and bundle up in blankets dlfa kisses and cuddles~"

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cfleesphotograp · 4 months

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So, with every fantastic set of images, there is always a backstory. This one is no exception. Our trip to High Shoals Falls in Connelly Springs, NC.

The trip to High Shoals Falls started as most of the trips Capt. Mullins and I went on; we left the family home in the Uwharrie National Forest area and headed west towards the South Mountains in North Carolina. Chit chatting. We go through Mt. Holley and

Capt says: Well, have you picked one yet? I say: no, I thought you did Capt Says: well, pick one

(I got on Google Maps, and the closest waterfall to where we were was High Shoals Falls, and the trails are said to be improved (this will come into play later))

I say: High Shoals Falls is about 30-40 miles from us on this heading. Let's go there. Capt: agrees We: continue to chat it up for a while and roll down the road to Lincolnton.

So we arrive in Lincolnton. It is a very old community of historical significance in North Carolina. Lincolnton was the site of the Revolutionary War Battle at Ramsour's Mill and the location of the 1813 Schenck-Warlick Mill, the first textile mill south of New England. Many of the homes in the area are of the Revolutionary War era or reconstructed as revival works from the Revolutionary War. It is pretty cool if you are into American History. In Downtown Lincolnton, a roundabout road goes around the Courthouse. Just off the roundabout on one of the artery roads (main street) is a painted wall advertising sign for Wrigley spearmint gum. This painted ad caught my attention since I'd never seen one before, and we decided to shoot it.

We went down a few blocks and tried to block around to it. We eventually got to somewhere we could park "the beast," a Dodge 3500, and got out. A block from where we parked was more wall advertising: an old Pepsi-painted ad (sorry, coke fans, it is NC; they love their Pepsi). A T206 Piedmont tobacco card mock-up painting of Tony Cloninger, who played for the Milwaukee/Atlanta Braves with Hank Aaron in the 1960s-1970s and was born in Cherryville, NC (a community close to Lincolnton), a historic barber shop, a 40's Glidden paint sign still mounted to the wall, the Wrigleys gum painting, and a few others.

We bopped around town to see what else we could find, and on the way back to the truck, it began to drizzle.

Capt: U still up for going to the waterfalls Me: I don't think the rain will let up, but it's up to you. Capt: it's not raining hard, so maybe it'll let up before we get there, and the water flow over the falls will be heavy.

On to High Shoals Falls.

We arrived at the High Shoals Falls parking lot. Now it's still raining more than a mist but not heavy.

Me: well, we're here; it's not raining hard. Do you still want to go? Capt: Yes, we have come too far to turn back now. Me: well, let's do it.

Just beyond the trailhead is a head (bathroom), and we discover runners on the trail; I also noticed bear locks on all the garbage cans.

Me: I am telling you now, if a bear comes out, I am tripping one of the runners. I can't run, and you shouldn't run. Capt: Says a prayer, "Lord, please let the rain stop until we get to the waterfall, and please don't let a bear come out on us on this trip."

(miraculously, within two minutes, it quit raining, not even a drizzle) We hiked about 1/2 mile to the bottom creek spillway of this waterfall that wrapped around a mountain. The trail to the spillway was beautiful, with some puddles here and there, but it was an improved trail. We crossed the spillway bridge and hiked about 100 yards, and then there was that…The enhanced path ended, and we were at drop 1 of a 6-tier waterfall.

Do you remember the prayer? It was to let the rain stop until we got to the waterfall. We were at tier 1. I say sometimes God has a sense of humor, and this is why. "All of a sudden, as if God had said dump the buckets, it began to rain much harder than it had been earlier. The trail went from improved to climbing limestone and basalt slabs, narrow and slippery even when dry, and it's now raining to beat the band.

me: You should have prayed the rain would hold off for the entire hike Capt: laughed, hindsight is 20/20

We shot the first tier of the waterfall and went back to the trail for the ascent.

Me: I promise the info on the waterfalls said the trail was improved, not the side of a cliff with limestone jetties to walk on. Do you still want to go up? It's raining slick, and this is the most unimproved trail we have ever hiked. There are some solid footing slabs, but this is rather nasty.

Capt: well, we are here, now soaked; the mountain falls have an unbelievable water flow; let's do it.

Every step for the next 1/4 mile was intentional and tested, and getting rougher, we were walking on the gorge ledge. A do not pass go do not collect 200 dollars cliff edge with a high drop to the left, a 35-40 degree hill to the right, and an 8 foot, in the widest, and 2 foot in the narrowest spots semi unimproved trail to walk on made of natural hill stone.

We made it to tier 2 falls. Counted our blessings and photographed it.

We headed back to the trail and looked for a minute; the higher up was becoming pretty sketchy looking, the stones were slippery, and the stone grade path was becoming as steep as the side of the hill; true, this is probably not a good idea moment.

Me: Do you want to attempt to make it up to the boardwalk up there? Capt: we have come this far; we might as well try. Me: ok

The trail was narrow and steep to tier 3. Up to tier 3, some 150 yards, I begin thinking about all the foolish things I have done to get some awesome pictures. Walking on 30-degree slanted limestone rocks to go out into Glade Creek (and falling in), hanging from a climbing rope 100 feet down a sheer mountain face, scaling 100 feet down a waterfall side to shoot the falls from the bottom and having to find and walk on tree roots to get back up because the hill was too steep better than 40 degrees and soil too loose to climb up the way I came down, free climbing two stories up cathedral falls and having a snake jet out a hole and letting go of the sheer face of the falls falling and landing in a 1-foot deep splash pool. Yet, I determined, even in the light of all that, that if there was an accident, which was highly likely due to the conditions, this is where I would most likely die.

Well, we made it up to tier 3 with only a few footing slips, which scared the snot out of me, and although I didn't ask, I am sure it scared Capt as well. We go on to the boardwalk. We shot what we thought was all of tier 3 and then walked on the path around the corner of the mountain; more falls on this tier. That was only the lower part of tier 3. So we shot the upper falls on tier 3.

I walked to the end of the boardwalk where the trail to tier 4 began and was like nope. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not "risk obverse" by any definition of that phrase, but what I saw to go to the 4th tier was enough to say,

me: under the current rainy conditions, and it is beginning to get late, the trip up to the top is a trip for another time. When it is at least dry, on the alleged trail.

(I am not convinced I want to try it even in good weather.)

We begin the trek back. The light was fading fast; of course, we didn't have a flashlight; it was a daytime trip that went much longer than anticipated. The light held out through the 1/2 mile back to the confluence point, between the waterfall creek runoff and the bottom creek spillway. Yes, back to improved trails to make it from here to the truck. Remember, we are in bear country, and dusk to early evening is primetime for bears.

Just as it got dark, we reached the parking lot. The fog began to rise, making the drive from the waterfall parking lot to a good hardtop road like something out of the movie Deliverance or The Hills Have Eyes, and the road was nearly impossible to see. Yet we made it back to a "lined road," out and back, well, sort of….. the rest of that story for the drive in the truck back will be saved for another day…

The finals for these images can be viewed at https://fleesphotos.com

#artists on tumblr #waterfalls #mountains #hiking #waterfall

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sirswooshnoodles · 8 months

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The thing is I really dont want to believe that white ppl are inherently racist but every i see white ppl like u justify their racism I find it difficult to say that its not true. Clearly you didn't watch or process the video if u think that the only problem with using AAVE is using it incorrectly. AAVE is not a language its a dialect and one of the main reasons that it exists is because of decades if not centuries of segregation. The reason white white ppl and black ppl from the same area might speak differently is because of legally mandated segregation that mandated that black and white ppl live separately. These policies were always at the expense of black ppl and many of them still exist today in the form of redlining and discriminatory housing policies. White ppl forced black ppl to live on the outskirts of society and they continue to do so and thats how segregation. One of the results of this is black ppl having their own dialects in different regions. Black Americans have had so much stolen from us and AAVE is one of few ways that we retain our culture and identity. I am Black and dont use AAVE i am not from somewhere that AAVE is spoken and it literally only takes the bare minimum amount of empathy to realize why that might be wrong and appropriative.

Like I'm really trying to give u the benefit of the doubt here and hope that explaining things might help you understand why using AAVE as a nonblack person is racist but at the end of the day I know that the majority of white ppl will go out of their way to be racist no matter what and that that is just the world we live in. It makes me sad and disheartens me but there often seems to be little that i can do to change it. But please prove me wrong by just taking a minute to educate yourself and use some empathy and understand why an oppressed marginalized group might not want you using a part of their culture just because you think that it sounds cool.

I can understand not wanting anything else taken from you/them, but I just don’t see how using words is stealing?

Genuinely not sure how using a word that isn’t a slur or otherwise negative or demeaning is inherently racist.

I can see how it might upset some people but that’s not the same as it doing actual harm. Like, I’m not making fun of anyone or demeaning anyone, nor am I making money or another form of profit off of someone else’s culture, so I struggle to see how it’s bad or inherently racist.

I sometimes wish I could give some racist people out there a taste of their own medicine. Oppression, because of racism or any other reason, is awful. There is no justification for any form of racism or oppression.

But again, even after this explanation, which was a bit more like a history lesson, I still can’t see how using words that aren’t bad or hurtful in and of themselves is bad.

I’m very sorry if I’m hurting you, but I don’t see how what I’m doing/saying is harmful.

Also sorry my posts are so long I’m not sure how to put it more concisely.

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rabbit-eclipsed · 1 year

Text

HARMONIA

The Prologues: Merida

As the dark brown SUV traversed through the mountains, Merida stared out the window in contempt.

It wasn’t fair.

This was her first year of magic school, so why of all years did her parents have to choose now to relocate? And even if they absolutely had to move somewhere, why couldn’t it have been somewhere closer like Ireland or Wales? She was sure she even could have learned to love Scandinavia or Spain or the Alps. At least then she’d still be in Europe.

Not in bloody Appalachia.

What state were they even moving to again? Was it the one where they snogged their cousins? Merida could only pray that wasn’t the right one.

If worse came to worst, at least she wouldn’t be spending the entire year there - just the summers. She was already registered to go to some American magic school. “Harmonia,” they called it. Merida had been reassured that the island the school resided on was just as wild and free as her beloved Highlands, but that remained to be seen.

But, in a way, didn’t that just make everything even more unfair? Couldn’t she just stay in Scotland for her schooling and hop on a plane twice a year to make the trip over the Atlantic and back?

Merida pulled her black hoodie a little tighter around her as she let her frustration stew. It was easier to find new ways to be mad about the move than to just accept it. Looking on the bright side for too long felt a wee bit too much like admitting defeat for her liking. And Merida was too prideful for that.

She wasn’t leaving many friends behind. There was Catriona, true, but that was the only person who Merida bothered to stay in touch with. The other kids were intimidated by her, to be honest. But she and Cat had bonded over a shared love for archery when Cat had shown her how to make a bow out of school supplies. And she’d miss Cat like mad, but none of her other peers. And anyway, Merida would not hesitate to say that her true best friend was her horse, Angus.

It was fortunate that her family had arranged for the Clydesdale to fly out ahead of them. He’d already be making himself acquainted with the stables in their new home as they drove there. Fortunate for Merida’s parents most of all, since she would have likely run away from home before letting them sell her horse off. Angus was, after all, going to be her familiar this year.

But best not to look too closely at bright sides and complicate things.

After all, right now she was stuck in a cramped SUV with three babies. They might look like peaceful angels now, but her headache was proof enough that they’d been wailing devils only an hour before. Which had also set her father’s dogs off and into a fit of howls.

And the radio was currently switched to the classical station since it was her mum’s turn to pick the music and she was currently in a battle to stay awake.

And she was still burning alive in her jacket even with the AC blasting, but now it was too much of a hassle to get it off since she was buckled up and she was sure to get an earful if she unbuckled for a second just to take the garment off. Though the comfort of her familiar hoodie was almost enough for that gripe to be ignored.

Merida pressed her forehead against the cool glass window and closed her eyes, wishing very much that she could be anywhere else. But she wasn’t. She was in West Virginia (she suddenly remembered the sign that they’d passed by when crossing the state line) and an ocean away from home.

Her phone let out a crisp vibration and “PING.” Merida was torn between faking sleep and acknowledging the buzzing device. She sighed and pulled it out of her pocket, curiosity having a hold on her.

Miss u already </3

Cat.

A smile tugged at Merida’s lips.

miss u 2!

A moment later, her phone buzzed again.

How’s the US?

What a ridiculous question! Merida shook her head.

haven’t made it 2 the house

Buzz.

Hmm… well, good luck!

“Merida!” The redhead flinched as her mother noticed her. “No excessive text messaging! You’ll run the phone bill right up!”

“I wasn’t-“

“If you want to have a conversation, just call.”

Merida groaned. Cat had been the one to text her first, but she knew that her mother would just scold her for not telling Cat that she needed to call her. And then her mum would get all nosey and butt into their conversations.

“Let me just tell her bye…” Merida murmured, typing a simple “thx, ttyl” and sliding her phone back into her pocket.

It wasn’t much later (or maybe it was - these things are hard to tell when you’re bored) that the DunBrochs arrived at their new home. It was a modest place made of gray stones with a charcoal colored roof. A rock wall wrapped around the driveway, patches of moss and lichen adding pops of green to the masonry. The size of the property more than made up for any lack of space. It was sprawling, with enough land to comfortably ride her horse around. It was also in the middle of nowhere, so she’d probably have to wait until she was well trained in defensive magic before she could push her limits and stay out past sunset without her parents fretting about local cryptids. Magicfolk knew better than anyone that there was a lot more truth to these legends than what even they would like to believe (and this applied doubly so to ancient forests, which were hotspots for the more unpleasant cryptids).

As soon as the SUV’s door opened, the hounds - Alfie and Bonnie - tore out of the vehicle, as eager as Merida to be free. But the process for her to get out of the car would be much more complicated and involve a lot more asking for permission.

“Och, we still need to do something about those shutters,” her mum scoffed. The house currently had red, garnish things on the windows. Their home in Scotland hadn’t had those at all.

“Aw, they add some life to the place,” Fergus argued, half joking.

“Then we can repaint them something a little more agreeable.”

“Can I go and see Angus?” Merida interrupted.

“Only after you get your bag inside,” her mum answered.

That was the only answer Merida needed. She sprung into action, racing into their new home with her duffle bag in tow. She threw the bag onto their couch haphazardly, thankful that her parents had hired a moving crew and that she wouldn’t have to linger around there any longer. Then she ran towards the stables, almost as swift as her family’s dogs. She threw open the doors and rushed inside to meet her horse. The clydesdale whinnied gleeful when he saw her.

“It’s good to see you, Angus,” Merida greeted him back, pressing her head against his. The horse sighed, content to see his friend after their long journeys apart.

Life was much better with a friend. And familiars were friends for life.

NOTES:

I had a hard time figuring out exactly what I wanted this prologue to say, besides just serving as an introduction to Merida’s character and why she’s going to a school in America.

I never really specified a reason that they moved there, I did imply a few times that the DunBrochs are well off, so in my mind Fergus has some important business job. I don’t think the exact details will ever be relevant, so fill in the blanks yourself if you actually care about it. I will say that it doesn’t necessarily have to be ~magical business~ because I don’t want there to be such a clear and hard divide between mages and normal society as there could be.

Anyway, I eventually settled on making the chapter have a theme of the bond between mages and familiars. There are a lot of pets and other animal companions involved in a lot of the properties that exhibit human or near human intelligence, so I wanted to sort of extrapolate on that by giving them a little bit of a magical aspect. I might get into this later, but my idea is that the bond between a mage and their familiar is strong enough that it subtly enchants the familiar to be more intelligent and live longer. Idk, I just really like building lore.

I figured it wouldn’t make a lot of sense for Merida to be totally friendless at her old school, hence the inclusion of Cat from the Merida books. Part of the reason this prologue took so long is because I was worried about getting her character wrong. I still have only read the first book, but I hope she’s in character enough.

Also, this prologue is the first example of establishing a setting here. It takes place in the late 2000s, which is hinted at by Elinor scolding Merida for texting. I don’t know how many people reading this remember, but texting used to be costly and less commonplace. I was never allowed to text as a kid because of the phone bill. I can’t really touch on this from Merida’s POV, but Elinor actually hates texting because she’s worried it’ll corrode Merida’s grammar and spelling.

Lastly, Merida is in West Virginia because the Appalachian mountains and the Scottish Highlands are actually sort of part of the same mountain range. West Virginia’s state animal is also the black bear. I was torn between putting her there or putting her in Alabama since they share that aspect, but WV is more mountainous, so she’d be more at home there.

#rabbit writes #harmonia #harmonia prologues #tales from harmonia

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stuff-from-the-void-matron · 3 years

Text

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (4)

(c!Technoblade x fem!Reader)

(people seem to like this for now but remember, no reblogs/comments then i’m gonna assume people lost interest. so show u enjoy this please!! <3 also someone drew fanart of Reader, check it out at the bottom! :3c)

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“Come ON Wilbur! Come with me to check out the huge village I found the other week!” shouted Tommy while making sure to get in his older brother’s way as much as possible. He figured if Wilbur was focused on him and not whatever ‘super important’ shit he was busy with then he’d join him.

Wilbur meanwhile was doing everything he could to sidestep and ignore said younger brother. Now usually he’d humor the much younger boy but Wilbur was sorta busy at the moment. There’s been murmurs of unrest within the L’manburg territory lately since new faces have joined their country.

Apparently they weren’t happy about the fact that Wilbur was a self appointed president, and likened him to a dictator because of it since no one got a say in his leadership role. Which Wilbur thought was highly unfair. He’d fought tooth and nail for his country, so they could have and enjoy all the freedoms to do as they pleased without Dream and his cronies breathing down their necks.

Everything he did he did for his country. But he didn’t want them to see him as some unsympathetic tyrant who didn’t listen to his people. He’s not Dream, he actually listens when they speak, even when they say they don’t like his self appointed role as president. So yes, Wilbur was sort of busy with more important things than goofing off and finding some random village. But instead of snapping he just sighed and said,

“Tommy, I’m working. We’re supposed to be running a country, remember?”

The aforementioned boy let out an aggravated sigh, he knows they have a duty to L’Manburg, he’s not stupid! But he also knows they need to be allowed to have some fun now and again too! Or they’ll go crazy! And Tommy was sure Wilbur would go mad if he stayed cooped up inside all the time working! So this was his way of dragging his brother out for his own good.

But Wilbur was being especially stubborn (wonder where Tommy got it…) and was refusing to budge.

“I don’t have time right now Tommy! Ask Tubbo or Fundy to tag along. I’m sure they’d love to go vandalize a village with you,” Wilbur distractedly said as he wrote down some notes in one of his books.

Tommy was tired of fighting Wilbur on this and decided to hell with it, he’d just take the L this time. So he scoffed and said “Whatever” in the most pissed off teen voice he could physically summon and turned away from Wilbur and stormed out of the brunet president’s house, making sure to slam the wooden door as hard as he could on his way out.

It seemed like all Wilbur did was mope around and WORK since they’d won independence from the Dream SMP. What the hell was the point of even FIGHTING for said freedom if Wilbur wasn’t even going to enjoy it??

Tommy pushed those thoughts away and went to search out Tubbo, he could always count on his best friend to follow him into some mischief! Unlike SOME people. And thankfully it didn’t take the rambunctious blond long to find his friend, and with a grin he ran and jumped on the shorter boy, making him yelp in shock and nearly fall. But then Tubbo saw who it was and started laughing and shoving the taller boy away half heartedly. But after goofing around a bit Tommy remembers why he’d searched out Tubbo in the first place.

“Oi Tubbo, come with me to this weird village I found the other week. I was gonna explore it when I found it but Wilbur said there was an emergency and I had to leave before I could,” he said as they both walked along the main path.

“Yeah sure, but why was it ‘weird’? Was it one of those ones that’s built somewhere stupid like half on a cliff?” Tubbo asked with a laugh.

The two laughed and Tommy explained that the village just looked different? Like there was no cobble! Which was ridiculous because in his opinion that was the best part of villages was all the cobble buildings. Not that he was biased or anything like an American.

But Tubbo just laughed and said sure, they could go check it out. He didn’t have anything else important to do today anyways. Tommy gave a triumphant ‘yeah!!’ because at least he got ONE of his friends to not be a total loser and go out to have some good old fashioned fun with him.

Tubbo told him to lead the way so they were off.

-0-

Many blocks away in your village you were getting out of your ‘shower’, which was really just a waterfall hidden by thick trees and hanging vines behind your temple home. But it was the best shower you’d ever used thanks to how the water fell over you in huge sheets. You’d honestly stay in it for hours if you didn’t hate being bored just standing there. But you did get bored, so you got out and began drying off.

Once you were dry you started getting dressed in your usual outfit, then once done you paused before reaching down to grab the newest item of your outfit..

Your mask.

...

After your… horn discovery the week before you’d just laid in bed all day for a couple days. Not leaving your temple for any reason, not even to shower or eat. You’d have been feeling worse if you’d actually needed food but thankfully you didn’t, so when you finally got your ass in gear and got up to bathe you only felt marginally like shit. At least you had until you went to go bathe…...

But on that first day up you’d just stared at yourself in the reflection of the water and sighed. You didn’t have the urge to cry anymore, so that was a good thing. But you also weren’t a fan of the new horns or glowing eyes you’d had since ending up here. You weren’t even sure what KIND of horns these were?? And… call you crazy but you SWEAR they were bigger than they were before your stint laying in bed..

They’d only been little nubs before, not even as big as your thumb! But now they were at least five inches long and sort of splitting at the tips? It looked weird and honestly felt even weirder what with that velvety texture covering them. You made the foolish mistake of grumbling to yourself,

“Things couldn’t get weirder, right?”

And as if the universe heard you… you discovered a new ‘appendage’ on your body while you started to wash your body off. You’d been lost in thought, just scrubbing yourself with a soapy washcloth when you’d started reaching around to wash your back, your washcloth brushed against something protruding from the base of your spine, right above your ass. This time you didn’t start panicking, you think you were still worn out from the days previous, so instead of freaking out you just slowly craned your neck around to see if you could glimpse the...thing.

A tail.

You blinked, shocked but also.. confused? What in the absolute fuck? Why? When?? This time there was no sobbing or breakdown, you were honestly just puzzled. Are you ever going to STOP growing animal traits or what? Under any other circumstances you might even call the tail cute. It was small, probably just smaller than your hand and about the same shape too. And the majority of the top of it was the same color as your hair, but the sides (and underside after you got curious enough to look under it) were a soft white. With how you were in water the tail looked rather unimpressive and you couldn’t identify what kind of tail it was, but if it was at all connected to the horns then maybe deer? Or caribou? Reindeer? The last two seemed more likely since those animals’ females actually grew antlers you think.

Having to adjust to all this new shit practically every other day was giving you a headache. With a tired sigh you rubbed the area around the base of your antlers, soothed slightly by how the action dulled your headache. But you couldn’t ignore the issue at hand, so you swallowed down your unease and instead just decided since you couldn’t control these… unnatural features then.. well, you’d just cover them up or since that wasn’t possible for the horns now you’d just disguise them?

You’d been stumped for a while on how to even DO that but eventually you’d gone down to the village to feed the animals and you’d watched the armorer leave his house to get started working for the day. And you’d noticed the mask he wore pushed up on his forehead. That’s when the idea for a mask hit you. But you didn’t know how to make or even craft a mask, so you’d gone to the armorer and asked him about it. It was hard to grasp what he was saying clearly but after the months living with the villagers you’d picked up some stuff and could understand them some.

So you let him show you how to make a standard iron mask like his, though the first one he’d made hadn’t fit you in the end so he’d made a second after tweaking the size a bit so it’d fit your face right, since your face shapes weren’t the same. But you were thankful and said so after you put it on. Though the eye holes still revealed your eyes, which you didn’t like. You asked how hard it would be to put reflective lenses in them to prevent your eyes from being seen.

That question turned into the armorer calling over the cartographer, the stonemason, and the shepherd oddly enough to help him out. They were murmuring and crowding around the armorer’s workstation while you watched from the edge of the porch where you sat idly. You didn’t want to hover over them like some busybody, so you sat patiently to see what they came up with together.

And after a while your patience was rewarded when they came over to show you the fruit of their collaboration. And it surprised you how gorgeous it was, which wasn’t fair since you had 4 skill masters working on it together for you.

The mask was actually very beautiful.

It was a white half mask that only covered your eyes, forehead, and upper nose/cheeks but left the lower half of your face bare. And you think it was simply painted white because it felt about as heavy as iron, but the part that amazed you was how it almost looked Venetian in design. On the forehead of the mask was a golden sun, and golden floral swirls came from the corners of the mask and curled near the cheeks and sides of the sun on the forehead, making the mask look elegant and almost vintage.

But the best parts in your opinion were the glass lenses in the eye holes. They were reflective and the same colors as your banner! You don’t know how the villagers did it but the edges of the lens were a goldish orange and the color faded into a violet in the center. You worried you wouldn’t be able to see through them but when you put the mask on you realized the lens only gave things a VERY slight blue/grey tint. So slight in fact that you could fully ignore it if you wanted.

And the second best part was some of the floral swirls actually swirled UP past the top edge of the mask and rested against your horns, giving the illusion that they were somehow part of the mask. Actually with the mask on you could almost trick yourself into thinking you were just wearing a cool looking Mardi Gras mask!

You clapped your hands in glee and couldn’t help the excited sound you let out as you gushed and told them it was perfect! They all let out bashful happy murmurs and generally looked shyly pleased with your praise. You tried to give them each some emeralds but they refused to take them, grunting and shaking their heads each time you attempted to push the gems towards them. Eventually you gave up and resigned to accepting the mask as a gift, but you’d definitely do something nice for them later, to make up for their hard work.

…

You’d taken to wearing the mask at all times when not in the privacy of your temple. Which wasn’t very hard to get accustomed to. The mask was lightweight and the lenses honestly helped shield your eyes from the glare of the sun so win/win. And it also made your horns, in your opinion at least, less in your face. Which was good because they were definitely still growing. You could tell. And the split in the tip was now more pronounced, making you wonder if they were like… reindeer antlers? It would fit with the tail currently growing out the base of your spine, said tail that now looked REALLY like a fluffy little deer tail since the hair/fur on it had dried.

One good thing was that your tail wasn’t long or huge and could actually be hidden relatively easily under a shawl you tied around your waist. So that was one less thing to worry about. Though your life would infinitely be easier if you didn’t have to deal with all this inhuman bullshit. But you supposed life wasn’t fair and expecting it to be was foolish.

“At least I’m not part some weird animal like an aardvark or something…” you mumble to yourself, trying to view this whole thing in a ‘glass half full’ sort of way.

You’d decided to relax and unwind from your recent discovery by just taking things easy for a while. First day since you got the mask and such you just chilled and started a small farm for yourself. You didn’t need the food but the process of building the farm and toiling the earth and then sowing the seeds was actually pretty therapeutic. The repetition of it all was pretty calming. Just you, your gardening tools, and the earth beneath your feet.

The days following were pretty much the same. You’d tend your garden first thing in the morning after your shower, then you’d go off to find something else easy to fill your time. You took up feeding the animals, making flower boxes and planters around the town to make it more colorful, potion brewing, and even fishing. Which was what you were doing right now actually.

You were sitting on the edge of the pond next to your temple, bare legs in the cool water and your back resting against the side of another grass block, an enchanted fishing rod you’d traded the town fisherman for sitting stuck in the ground next to you while you relaxed. The day was actually quite beautiful and nice. Sun streamed down over you from between the bamboo behind you, fluffy fat bees buzzed overhead as they hunted lazily for pollen, and you were close to dozing off.

“Hnn! Hnn! Hnnn!!”

At least you would have dozed off if you hadn’t heard one of the villagers sorta freaking out. You looked up and saw one of the farmers panickedly shuffling about at the top of the small hill to your left. You wondered if zombies got into the village again? But no it was sunny out, they’d be burning if they did. Illagers maybe? But how would they have gotten around the bamboo and prickly berry bushes?? Well there wasn’t anything else for you to do than do see what was wrong.

You put away your fishing rod, got up and dusted yourself off before hurrying up the hill after the villager. You trailed after them down the lantern lit path but so far didn’t see anything, but you perked up when you heard telltale sounds of one of the iron golems fighting something and taking damage. That put some urgency in your gait and soon you were running to see what was going on. You rush past the fletcher’s home and then the cartographer’s right after but nothing. Then you finally round the corner where the market is set up and see at the very end of the path next to the cleric’s church is the altercation.

You sprint down the path, yelling for the villager’s to stay inside until you ring the town bell as you run past them. You hear the doors slam closed behind you and you manage to get to the problem right as your iron golem gives one last cry before getting poofed. You gasp sadly and then glare when you hear cheering. A blond boy that was shorter than you hopped down from a dirt block tower and scooped up the fallen iron ingots the poor iron golem dropped upon its death.

You were so pissed that you ignored the nagging feeling in the back of your focus that said this kid looked familiar. It wasn’t until he finally turned to look at you that it hit you. Holy shit this kid looked… and sounded.. like that minecraft youtuber, TommyInnit.. Like eerily so. You’re glad you’re wearing your mask so he can’t see the deer in headlights (*ba-dun-ts*) look on your face at the sight of him. And your shock didn’t fade with him speaking. If anything it reinforced the idea that this kid was weirdly reminiscent of that youtuber.

“Holy fuck! You are a MASSIVE woman. Wait, who the fuck are you?!” he said in a loud tone of voice as he looked up at you. It made your eyebrows furrow. You were NOT that big! He was just short! You even crossed your arms and told him so, which earned a snicker from the little brown haired boy in dark green overalls next to him. The blond boy scoffed, looked fully offended, snarked back that you were about the same height as a ‘bloody fuckin’ iron golem!’ so yes you were huge.

You glared at the little TommyInnit look alike and instead of arguing about your height you started scolding both boys, which they hadn’t really.. expected? At least from the surprised looks on their faces (which still had the roundness that came from baby fat). The brunet rubbed his elbow and sort of toed the dirt under his feet while the blond crossed his arms and almost looked to be pouting from the scolding.

“My height isn’t the issue here! The issue is you two barging into my village, killing one of my iron golems, stealing the loot from it, and scaring my poor villagers!! What in the hell were you two thinking?”

The blond tried to cut in, to defend himself but he barely got out the first syllable before you held up your hand to signal for him to silence himself as you snapped,

“I do NOT wanna hear it! You treat others this way?? Like they’re nothing, like their possessions and peace of mind don’t mean a damn thing?! Shame on you both!!”

By the end the two boys looked properly scolded. The brunet wondered if THIS is what it felt like to get scolded by one’s mother, and if it was then he’d like to avoid it for the remainder of his life. And the blond meanwhile actually didn’t have anything to say, or more accurately he didn’t know what to say to not feel like he was in massive trouble.

You meanwhile were just annoyed at this point, so you held you hand out (causing both boys to give you wondering looks) before you demanded the iron ingots that the blond stole from your slain iron golem. He got all in a huff, saying he earned them and they were just ingots- but you slapped that train of thought down with an angry,

“EARNED?? More like STOLE! After you killed my iron golem! Now give them back! I have to use them to make a new golem to protect this village.”

The blond sputtered, face blooming red at being blatantly called out on his theft, before muttering in embarrassment and pulling the ingots out and practically tossing them at you. You caught them and returned them to your inventory before shaking your head at the two and saying they should leave if their only goal in your village was to kill and destroy property. The small brunet quickly spoke up and said,

“No wait, we didn’t come just to mess stuff up! We came cuz Tommy said he found this place last week and it wasn’t the usual village so we wanted to explore it.”

Your stomach churned at the name.. Tommy. This was getting weird again. Way too fucking weird. But you resisted clenching your teeth anxiously like you wanted, instead you raised an eyebrow they couldn’t see and shot back,

“Oh yeah? And how did that escalate into killing my iron golem?”

This time it was ‘Tommy’ who cut in and said it had been an accident! They’d apparently been looking around when Tubbo (you felt queasy now after hearing that name too…) started fighting a spider and Tommy came over to help him, but in the process he accidentally hit the iron golem, who got pissed and smacked him.

“I ran from the thing and towered up three blocks! I knew it wouldn’t let up so I had to kill it! S’not my fault the bastard was holding a grudge!!” Tommy said heatedly, arms still crossed defiantly.

You wanted to rub your temples in exasperation but couldn’t without removing your mask. And like hell you were showing these kids your weirdo inhuman eyes. Though… if they really were the characters from.. the videos you got hooked on? Honestly this whole thing was 10 times weirder than the stupid glowy eyes or even the horns or tail.. Like this has to be proof you’re really dreaming or in a coma or something. What other logical explanation could there BE? These kids aren’t real. Nothing here is. It CAN’T be. The real people behind these… minecraft characters? They’re not here. In this place.

Before you could do a kickflip off the edge of your sanity into a full on mental breakdown you took in a calming breath and pushed those thoughts away until you were alone to give it the proper attention. And maybe so you could have your panic attack in peace and quiet. But right now you had two kids causing ruckus in your village. So you just said,

“Yeah alright, fine. I’ll forgive you both THIS TIME. But don’t make a habit of causing trouble in my village. And you can look around and explore, just don’t steal anything or hurt any of my villagers or animals. Got it?”

The two boys nodded, happy to not have you giving them that Angry Adult Tone anymore. So you turned and started walking back to the middle of the village, calling for them to come on. You had to ring the village center bell to tell everyone everything was okay.

Both boys shared a glance before Tubbo smiled and started jogging after you, Tommy right behind him, both curious about you and your village.

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(a/n: YOOO SOMEONE DREW READER FANART AND IT’S FUCKING BOMB DUDES CHECK IT OUT!! (Reader looking heavenly~) uwu)

@salinesoot @lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #c!techno #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt x reader #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!wilbur

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1eos · 3 years

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What's your theory on why black ppl (predominantly black girls) continue to stan kpop groups ? I remember i had a phase that correlated with my lowest points lol but I cannot understand continuing to listen to and promote groups that are constantly anti black? How does it not get ruined after that ? You reminded me of them got7 twins and them youtube twins and it genuinely made me so sad . I wonder why so many ppl accept behaviour from Asian musicians that they never would for other non blacks

i lowkey hate it when y’all ask questions like this bc 1. what genre of music doesnt hate black women specifically? 2. why is everyone acting like kpop fans are the only ppl defending racism? why is kpop this big bad everyone keeps centering the discussion on? nd 3. why is it that black ppl aren’t ever allowed to have fun--even if its flawed nd why are we always supposed to be focusing on the burden of racism 24/7?

to expound:

first of all imma say it again: there is no industry in the world that doesn’t demean black women nd use them as a prop.

american pop is full of blackfishers but would u ask a black ariana stan why she’s still loving her? the rnb scene is full of so much misogynoir its ridiculous nd its not just the men go check summer walker’s tw for proof of that. modern american music was BUILT on shitting on black women like u can find so many stories abt motown stealing songs from folks nd not paying them royalties but are u asking black folks why they aren’t denouncing ALL of music?

secondly the way kpop fans defend racism isn't even new. chr*s brown got bitches defending him. there are folks out there right now blaming megan for getting shot by t*ry lanez. dr*ke used to get accused of being a predator every couple of months nd ppl (black women included) STILL was stanning him 😭😭😭😭😭

these are patterns of behavior that is deeper than just koreacoons it’s engrained into the very fiber of society. the first pattern is that black women should protect men nd defend them at any cost. AND the behavior of parasocial relationships nd protecting celebrities bc we feel that when THEY’RE attacked WE’RE being attacked

kpop fans are just doing the same thing in a different ocean with a group of mostly men that aren’t black. i won’t deny that the fact that these kpop boys aren’t black can play into the equation on a deeper level bc there is a subset of fans that may have been othered by their black peers for having different hobbies nd subsequently turn to alternate hobbies.

like when i was in high school the alt black girls were into white rock bands. nd just like then ppl now try to other themselves from blackness by using kpop but still its nothing new just a new model race of nonblacks to fawn over. which is mega creepy nd should be called out but fetishists be the most popular folks on social media.

nd my last point is.......kpop is fun nd provides an abundance of content with comebacks weekly nd constant fanwars nd arguments and drama. kpop is also trendy nd promotes u to be connected to these groups for the long term. like are black ppl supposed to be magically immune to the appeal of kpop? just bc of racism that they’ll experience somewhere else?

nonblacks get to enjoyed flawed media but we can’t? do u know how many white gays r on here saying twilight is gay culture nd no one coming for them or asking them why they're reading that when the book straight up spread negative misinformation abt a real life native tribe nd promotes very strange nd unhealthy relationship tropes?

why is the conversation ALWAYS centered on how black ppl can lower themselves to enjoy a certain kind of media when nonblacks can mindlessly consume nd defend racism nd no one is asking them why they’re giffing cultural appropriation or ignoring the voices of their black ‘friends’ nd still spamming mamamoo gifs on the dash? ofc black ppl need to have self love but a lot pressure is put on us to engage in this mythical media purity nd no one else which i have a problem with. like we do deserve to fucking have fun

tl; dr: all industries are racist nd no matter who u ‘stan’ u will encounter racism. black ppl are defending misogynists nd racists even outside of kpop. black kpop fans see kpop as an alt hobby nd this can be in a normal way or a fetishy way. nd a lot of black ppl just want to have fun nd jump into the endless content of kpop and its unfair that only black ppl get questioned endlessly on what they like

#y'all are acting like kpop is this big bad that no black person can ever like #where is this energy for our 'allies'#or for the black men that stay giving money to their misogynist rappers?#asks #long post #Anonymous #ok to reblog

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novelconcepts · 3 years

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Jamie & Dani short prompt- Online Dating au meeting online and being from bad past relationship. Thank u

This is probably a bad idea. It is, isn’t it? Almost certainly.

Why is she here?

Dani Clayton has been playing this particular set of thoughts--bad idea, terrible idea, why would you do this?--on repeat for three days. Ever since setting up that dating profile. Ever since realizing there isn’t much use in setting up a dating profile if you’re not going to use it.

Oh, it’s all fun and games, building the thing. Find a photo that accentuates all the best parts of your face--Dani, after an hour of careful consideration, wound up going with one that accentuated her hair, more than anything, but she suspects the same idea counts. Then, the profile. What do you like? Teaching, long walks, new experiences, bad coffee. What don’t you like?

Men, she’d thought, and snorted aloud into her wine before settling on: Deep water, accordion music, expectations, being called Danielle.

A little more flourish, tipsy keystrokes, a casually-framed short-version of her life. Perfect. And then...well, then you hit the publish button, don’t you? You decide, for better or worse, to jump off this diving board and see just how far you can stand to swim before the energy gives out on you.

The faces appearing before her hadn’t been bad, certainly. Pretty, most of them. Interesting, a few. Still, she hadn’t swiped right on any--once or twice, because she’d forgotten which way meant yes please, but mostly because no one seemed quite...right. Which, she’d thought, was silly. The whole point of an app like this is to cast as many nets as possible and see what comes up. The whole point is to have fun.

But every time she’d hovered over a promising image, a woman who likes dogs, or plays the violin, or goes rock-climbing in her spare time, she’d thought of him. Eddie. Who had taken one yes to a single date, and tried to make a whole life with her out of it.

Eddie, who had taken her two decades to pull away from.

What if the women here were the same? Not Eddie, exactly, but--presumptive. What if they believed a swipe-right was as good as a marriage proposal? What if she got bound up in conversation, and then a date, and then a relationship with someone else who just didn’t fit right?

Left. Left. Left.

And then: the mistake.

She hadn’t meant to swipe right. Exactly. She hadn’t planned, maybe is the better way of putting it, on swiping right. She’d only wanted to look at the woman’s profile a little longer. Only wanted to inspect the facets this woman had put out on display with almost resigned simplicity.

Some people, Dani had by now realized, wrote poetry and paragraphs to describe themselves.

Jamie Taylor had bullet points.

“Gardener. English. Likes: Plants. Stories. Tea. Dislikes: Bullshit.”

The end. That had been quite literally the sum of it. Gardener. English. No bullshit.

But the picture, somehow, Dani hadn’t been able to look away from. Not because of carefully-arranged lighting, not because of a curated model-clean image--but because the woman appeared to have posted the photo almost under duress. It came in profile, as though someone else had done the job, her head turned toward the camera as if interrupted. Her hands were buried in a flower pot. Her clothes were simple--a tank top, a silver chain resting against the jut of collarbones, a pair of worn-looking jeans with holes in the knees. Her eyes--some fascinating color Dani couldn’t quite place--looked somewhere between amused and irritated.

She looked real.

Stupid, Dani thinks now--because that was probably the idea, wasn’t it? This woman, Jamie, had planned to look exactly this way. Real. Vexed at the idea of putting herself out there. Reluctantly available.

It was a ploy, certainly--but one that seems to be working, because not only did Dani accidentally-not-accidentally swipe right, she found herself texting the woman. For hours. She’d expected much less, had figured this Jamie person would be as brief in text as she had been in bio, but...

Jamie had talked to her. Willingly. Teasingly, with more humor than truth, maybe, but with no sign at all that she was sick of Dani’s questions, bad jokes, nervous assessment that I really don’t do this, I honestly don’t get it.

I don’t, either, Jamie had replied, and that had felt like enough of a reason to keep testing the waters. Enough of a reason to keep the conversation going back and forth, back and forth, until nearly two in the morning.

Shit, she’d said. I need to be at work in four hours.

Shame, Jamie had replied, her tone already searingly familiar over text. Own your own business, make your own hours. Far wiser approach.

I’ll make a note of it for when I found an elementary school, Dani had replied, laughing. She hadn’t said she’d already been in bed for an hour, the phone resting on the pillow beside her head so she wouldn’t miss the buzz of a new message. It had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, with wine-warmed blood and the happy haze of good conversation. Jamie made her laugh. Jamie put her at ease. Jamie might not have been real, but she felt real, and that was good.

Better than anything she’d felt in years, if she was honest with herself.

Still, when the next day had come and gone with no message, she’d thought, Fair enough. Jamie had been good virtual company for one night. It was more than she’d expected to get out of this app.

Far more than she’d expected, particularly when Thursday night rolled around and her phone buzzed.

Teacher, yeah? No school on Saturday?

Correct, Dani had replied, as amused by the out-of-left-field text as she was irritated with how her stomach had flipped over upon receiving it. You have figured out the complexity of the American school system.

I am a genius, Jamie sent back, followed quickly by: Drinks tomorrow night?

Drinks. A thing that people do. A thing that adult people do for date reasons.

She isn’t real, she’d thought, even as her thumb was punching back: How’s 8? Miller’s?

A mistake. Definitely a mistake. Because the app had been a lark, and the conversation had been too easy, and the fact that she can’t quite pick out the colors in Jamie’s eyes from a single photo is making her crazier than she’d like to admit.

A mistake, saying yes. A mistake, suggesting the local pub-like establishment around the corner, whose beer-and-burger specials had kept her fed on too many evenings spent working late. A mistake, because once this goes south--as it’s absolutely bound to, as everything Eddie-shaped always has--she’s going to lose her favorite hangout in the deal, too.

And yet: here she is. Standing at the door, wondering if the outfit chosen for the evening festivities--tight jeans, pink blouse, hoop earrings--is too much or not nearly enough.

What am I doing here?

Maybe, she thinks with mingled alarm and hope, she won’t even have showed up. Maybe it’s all part of the ruse: look approachable, look human and normal, look a little too beautiful in the most grounded way possible--then, cheerfully, invite a woman to drinks and just don’t show. A fun story for whoever comes next. Can you believe she thought I’d want to meet her after one night of texting?

“Dani?”

English, Dani thinks with a sudden rush of heat. Right. Somehow, she hadn’t quite been prepared for the accent, which--coming out of this woman, draped with languid ease at a table--is truly a little more than Dani thinks she can handle just now. The accent, combined with the mess of curls dragged back from her face, and a dress sense that manages to be both casual and deeply attractive at the same time, is...

“Jamie,” she says, her voice a little lower, a little more hoarse, than is truly necessary. The woman pushes up from her seat, a small-framed figure in a black button-down, suspenders, ripped jeans. She’s pressing a hand toward Dani, offering a firm shake as though they are business partners, not an off-the-cuff bad idea of a date. “You look--”

“Never been here before,” Jamie says, almost apologetically. She gestures for Dani to sit before dropping back down in a sprawl that implies exactly the opposite of what her mouth is insisting. “Wasn’t sure about the, ah, dress code.”

“You--you did fine,” Dani tells her, wishing suddenly she’d gone for a dress. Or a different human body altogether. She feels too tightly-strung, too anxious for the easy smile on Jamie’s lips. “Um. You’re very. In person.”

“Very,” Jamie repeats, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “Is very American for wish I’d gone left, after all?”

“No. No. Absolutely not. That.” Bit too forceful, she suspects, judging by the smile spreading into a grin. “No, it’s just--your picture didn’t--tell me you’d be so...”

“Clean?” Jamie suggests innocently. She raises her hands, wiggling her fingers in a small wave. “Scrub up fine, when I need to. Seemed to call for it.”

“And you...sure did answer,” Dani says stupidly. “The. Call, I mean. I’m sorry, I really don’t do this often.”

Something seems to soften in Jamie, her smile less teasing as she leans across the table. “Hey, no worries here. Same person you were talking to the other night.”

Dani nods, embarrassed, and flags down a server. Drinks ordered, she draws in a deep breath.

“I mean, I haven’t done this in years. Or. Ever, I guess.”

“A first date?” Jamie asks. When Dani doesn’t answer, she adds in a knowing tone, “A date with a woman?”

“Both,” Dani says honestly. “My last relationship was--well, I mean, we were engaged--”

Jamie whistles under her breath, reaching up to scratch her head. “Blimey. What happened?”

“He’s...him.” It’s too much to go into on a first date, too much to explain, even though talking to Jamie over text had been so dangerously easy. “My best friend growing up, but that was...growing up.”

Jamie nods thoughtfully, tilting her chin in thanks when the server deposits two full pint glasses and a basket of fries on the table. “Rough time, sounds like. I can relate. My last relationship also did not go well.”

“Was he also a man who thought you’d be all too happy to quit your job and take care of a bunch of babies?” Dani asks, perhaps a little too bitterly for the occasion. Jamie flashes another grin, sipping her drink.

“She was a woman who thought I’d be all too happy to take the fall when she got busted for possession.”

Dani gapes. “Oh. Oh--I didn’t know--I’m so--”

Jamie shrugs. “She wasn’t wrong. I was nineteen, and deeply stupid. Live and learn, as the poets say.”

“Which poets?” Dani asks, smiling a little. Jamie’s brow furrows.

“John...Lennon, possibly? Hard to say. Anyway, relationships are a chore and a half, but the greatest people in the world tell me thirty is too old to play musical bedframes, so. Here we are.”

No bullshit, thinks Dani approvingly. For what little she’d put into her profile, Jamie evidently hadn’t been lying about that.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since you were nineteen?”

“In my mind, I was still in the relationship at twenty-four, when they let me out. She didn’t agree. Found out she’d been married two years, by then.” Something darkens in Jamie’s eyes for a moment. She sighs. “Like I said. Not my finest. But I am, as they say, a shining beacon of reform these days.”

“Now, when you say they,” Dani teases, grinning. Jamie nods decisively.

“John Lennon. Definitively.”

There it is, thinks Dani, watching Jamie pop a fry into her mouth. There, the easy roll of conversation from the other night. As though they’ve known each other forever. As though two people who have thus far failed irrevocably at relationships make a perfect match.

Easy, she thinks. Don’t go wild, now.

“So,” she says, when the comfortable silence between them has grown a bit too comfortable for the setting, “who are the greatest people in the world? The ones who tell you thirty is too old for...did you say musical bedframes?”

Jamie laughs. The ring of it curls gently around Dani’s head like a soft hand, a sound she’ll find herself replaying later with a skipping heart.

“Not many willing to put up with a grump of my caliber, but Hannah and Owen fight the good fight. So long as I at least pretend to try.”

“Let me guess. They set up the account for you?”

Jamie makes a sort of gesture in the air with the hand not holding her glass. “Threatened to bury me in puns and children, respectively, if I kept putting it off. Owen’s still grumpy about the photo choice.”

“I liked it,” Dani says without thinking. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you did swipe as much. Mind if I ask why?”

Walked into this one. Still, she doesn’t mind as much as she probably should, not with the genuine curiosity in Jamie’s eyes. “You looked--don’t laugh.”

“No promises,” Jamie says, but with the gentle tone of one who knows exactly how much to tease before it’ll hurt. The idea warms Dani in a way she’s not quite ready to look at yet.

“You looked real,” Dani says. “Like you weren’t going to play games, or waste anyone’s time. Like you just wanted to be happy in peace.”

“That is,” Jamie says, holding out a fry for Dani to take, “sort of the idea, yeah.”

There’s an almost puzzled cast to her smile, like she didn’t entirely expect this answer, and is pleased by it at the same time. That same sense from the photo sweeps over Dani now--that this woman is authentic, even if she’s not always shiny, that she’s kind even if not entirely clean. That she doesn’t have any interest in muddled expectation or living a comfortable lie.

“And me?” Dani asks. She doesn’t entirely mean to--but she’s sure, in asking, that Jamie will answer. Jamie is unlike anyone else she’s ever met, the first person she’s ever known to meet each question head-on.

“Honestly?”

Dani nods. Jamie seems to consider it, turning it over in her head as she twists a fry between her fingers like a cigarette.

“All of it.”

“That’s,” Dani begins to laugh, “that’s not--”

“No,” Jamie says, and she isn’t smiling, exactly. Her eyes have a sort of shine Dani likes very much, but there is no hint of teasing in them now. “Really. All of it. You’re...very pretty, and that’s--but the way you described yourself. Like you didn’t care to be anyone in particular. You like new experiences, and bad coffee. You hate being called Danielle. I...I wanted to know why.”

“It’s not my name,” Dani says simply. Jamie gives a brief laugh, her hand moving across the table to lightly brush Dani’s fingertips.

“I wanted to know why all of it. Why do you like bad coffee--”

“It’s the only kind I know how to make,” Dani says automatically. “Just sort of leaned into it.”

“--and teaching--”

“I want to make a difference,” Dani says.

“--and where you most like to go on those long walks--”

“Anywhere I can breathe,” Dani says. Her fingers are hesitant, tracing the tips of Jamie’s. There’s something electric about this, about barely touching, about barely knowing someone and still wanting to give them neatly-packaged secrets shaped like the mundane.

Jamie is smiling. “See, that. I like that. All of it.”

It’s nothing, Dani thinks reflexively. A collection of details. A sparse approximation of a life. Eddie knows all of this, and then some, and never matched up to knowing her.

But this woman, leaning across the table with one hand outstretched, looks so different. Watches her with steady interest. Is listening to every word Dani says, though the bar is growing crowded around them, and soon, conversation will become a task instead of a gift.

“Would you,” Dani says, feeling certain that some mistakes are not as bad as they seem, “like to take one of those walks?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tonight.” Emboldened by the smile, by the curl falling into Jamie’s eyes, by the knowledge that she still can’t quite make out what color those eyes are, Dani takes her hand. It’s so easy, she thinks she could do it even without looking. “Right now.”

No bullshit, she thinks. No expectations. Just Jamie looking at her like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. Dani can’t blame her. This isn’t at all what she’d thought she was getting, walking in tonight.

But there’s something about it--something about the feeling that she’s been here before, or should be here forever, or will always find her way back to a woman who looks at her just like this--that almost makes her feel brave. Almost makes her feel wonderful. She rises from the table, laying cash beneath her half-empty glass, and feels a pleasant jolt in her chest when Jamie follows without another word.

If this a mistake, she thinks as they step out into the brisk evening air, it’s one she’s hungry to make.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #okay I liked this one way more than planned #it's sort of nice doing a modern AU under a million words long

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toriwakes · 4 years

Text

Chrysanthemums [Draco Malfoy x Potter!Reader]

summary: you’ve lived in america for the past 15 years of your life. then, everything changed with one letter.

content warnings: very light cursing. some angst (?)

a/n: omg hi!! officially my second request, im so excited to share!! i know it’s SUUUUPER long but bars with me? i’m so proud of it and i’d actually love to do a mini series w this so lmk what u all think! ty for the request @peneflop !

everyone in america knew about harry potter. even though voldemort was a criminal in another country, americans felt just as worried. when the news got out, everyone was all over you. ‘(y/n) potter! are you related to him?’ you didn’t know the answer. but it was most likely not, right?

you sat next to your best friends, wishing them a good morning. “want to go pick up the mail?” lena asked. you nodded. the three of you walked down the halls, giggling and gossiping. “what’re you doing for halloween, (y/n)?” gina asked. you shrugged. “dunno. probably nothing. why?” she let out a dramatic gasp. “you’ve gotta come to this party! please don’t miss it, it’s gonna be amazing!” you laughed at her and turned the corner, entering the mail room. “i’ll think about it.” she made a face and you all separated to open your mail boxes. you flipped through your letters- nothing special. then something caught your eye. a parchment envelope with a burgundy wax seal. “guys?” your two friends rushed over. “what?” the said in unison. with a shaky hand, you lifted up the letter. “holy.” “shit.”

it was settled. you were moving to london and going to hogwarts. you were not keen on the idea at all, but the albus dumbledore demanded you be there. no witch could just say no. right now you were at the station, watching as hundreds of witches and wizards staggered around. “why’d you have to go before halloween?” gina sighed. you pouted. “i’ll write to you both once a week. i’ll tell you everything.” “yeah, you better!” lena teased. then you were met with anna. anna was your care taker. she wasn’t related to you but she cared for you since you didn’t have any connections to your family. you were told that your parents died in a car crash and they were both only children, so you had no aunts or uncles. poor circumstances, but that was your life. “i’m gonna miss you.” you said it quickly, afraid you may cry if you spoke too slow. “i’ll miss you too.” she was already crying. “now go, everyones already on.” you hugged them and waved goodbye before boarding the train.

you didn’t know anyone here. you shuffled to the back of the train and tried not to make yourself stand out too much. you walked back as far as you could and found yourself in a dark section of the train with empty booths. you smiled and sat down, pulling out your book that you brought along. you were daydreaming of lena and gina when you heard footsteps. when you shifted your gaze to the doorway, you jaw almost dropped. a tall (yet skinny) pale boy stood there. he along with two beefy men didn’t pay any mind to you. you hoped they wouldn’t notice you, but you were the only one there, it was unlikely they wouldn’t. they actually all got situated and you thought you were in the clear- until someone else came in. “i saw the saint on the way in. almost puked.” a brunette girl in all black clothes joked. they all laughed. “how was everyone’s- oh?” she saw you. the three boys looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. “hello, i’ve never seen you.” she spoke softly and say in front of you. “yeah. i’m new, it’s nice to meet you.” you stuck out your hand for a handshake. “american? that’s cute. i’m pansy.” she took your hand and you smiled. “pansy, that’s a pretty name. like the flower?” she didn’t say anything. you cleared your throat awkwardly. “i’m (y/n).” she smiled as a response. “would you three stop being so rude? introduce yourselves!” she was referring to the three boys. the blonde one stood up first. “malfoy.” he said curtly. you gave him a friendly smile. he didn’t return it. “goyle. that’s crabbe. he doesn’t talk much.” crabbe gave you a smile that you gladly returned. “come sit with us.”

for the next hour or so you bonded with your three new friends. pansy did most of the talking, goyle occasionally dropping in. draco didn’t speak too much but you could tell he was listening. every time he did, however, your ears got hot and you felt warm. he was very cute, but you didn’t know him like that. “the trolly is passing. (y/n), if i gave you some galleons would you get us some snacks? anything is fine.” you nodded, but were mildly confused. what the fuck are galleons? “pansy, she’s american. she doesn’t know what galleons are.” draco said. “oh- that’s right. go with her then.” pansy suggested. you took the gold coins from pansy and stood, draco following you. “hello! anything from the trolly?” the kind old woman asked. you picked out the thinks that look the nicest, draco talking the coins from your hand and giving them to the woman. you ignored the race in your heart when his hand touched yours. “did you get that?” he asked. you nodded. “you don’t speak too much, do you.” it wasn’t really a question. as you were about to answer, you made eye contact with a boy with very round glasses. could it be harry? draco noticed this and ushered you forward. “don’t talk to him.” just wait till they found out about your last name...

the students piled into the great hall, which was huge and rather beautiful. gather headmaster, who you recognized as professor dumbledore rose and spoke a few words. then, he made eye contact with you. “let the sorting ceremony begin!” you shuffled in with all the first years feeling awkward. the upper class man gave you strange looks- they must’ve thought you were daft. finally, you heard your name. “(y/n) potter?” you heard gasps in every direction. you stepped forward and sat on the stool. then, you felt the hat on your head. your hands were sweating.“another potter, eh? same qualities as the first yes... but where to put you?” everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seats. the 7 minutes that had passed felt like 10 hours. then, you heard a small voice in your head. this voice wasn’t yours. “what’ll it be then? gryffinor or slytherin?’ you blinked. ‘just put me where you think i’ll exceed.’ you don’t know how, but you felt the sorting hat smirk. “SLYTHERIN!” the hat boomed. a mixture of gasps and cheers erupted. the witch who sorted you pointed to the direction of the house decorated in green and silver- you beamed when you saw pansy. you sat next to her and she embraced you into a hug. “bloody hell, you didn’t tell me you were a potter! you don’t remember anything from that night, do you?” draco didn’t say anything. “what do you mean?” you asked. now they all just looked at you weird. “do you actually not know what happened?” draco asked. you shook your head. “(y/n)...almost a decade ago, voldemort killed your parents. you and harry survived, you’re the only two that have ever lived after getting hit with the killing curse.” hearing all of this was almost too much to handle. so you did have a family? it wasn’t a car crash? your brother is the chosen one? “how? how did no one know?” pansy looked at you with pity. “you two were separated as infants. no one knew what you looked like. besides, for some reason you don’t have the scar like he does.” pansy said while moving your hair out of your face. scar? like the one on your chest? you didn’t mention it, but you wondered if that was what she meant. “we’ll treat you all the same. don’t you fret.” pansy smiled. “thank merlin she’s not a gryffindor though.” goyle commented. everyone laughed. “what’s wrong with the gryffindors?” draco eyed the table behind you. “they’re a bunch of snobs. think they’re so much better than everyone because they’ve got potter on their side, well guess what? now so do we.” you hummed and turned around. harry was gazing at you already.

that night you found a tie, a sweater, some slytherin robes and a little slytherin flag in your dorm. if harry was a gryffinor, shouldn’t you also be? you shook your head from the thought- you’re done second guessing yourself. to take your mind off it, you pulled out your stationary and began to write to your best friends back in america. boy did you have some things to share...

officially 3 weeeks till halloween. your friends were sending you letter about how excited they were, but you were bummed. you didn’t tell them that your parents died on halloween, you knew it would kill the fun for them. you smiled at the letter and the cute picture of them attached. you pinned it to the cork board- right next to the slytherin flag. you smiled to yourself and grabbed your school bag, existing the dorms and heading into the common rooms. your friends seemed to be waiting for you. “finally! i’m starved, let’s go.” pansy linked arms with you and led you out, hiding you to the great hall. the stares you used to revive everywhere faded. it was like you were always there. “what classes do you all have today?” you questioned, biting into your bagel. “astronomy, potions, transfiguration and defense. you?” draco asked. you and draco finally became formal friends. you owed it all to the many classes you shared together and pansy’s constant pestering. “the same. i just gave potions first.” everyone dove into conversation about their school schedule, followed by how much they hated it. you laughed every now and then but your mind was somewhere else. you had harry in a few classes today. you and him haven’t talked at hall, surprisingly. you were simply too intimidated to do so. “(y/n)!” goyle was calling you. “yeah?” “i said we better get going. if your first class is potions, you don’t want to be late.” you simply nodded and headed with your group to your classes. everyone broke off to their classes as you walked around the castle, but you noticed that draco stuck with you. “i thought you had astronomy?” you only asked once he was outside your classroom. “i do.” “then why are you here?” you never really noticed how much taller draco was than you. “i just wanted to make sure you got here safe. if that not what friends do?” you cocked a brow. “you never walk me to my classes. “bloody hell, im sorry i won’t do it again!” he said quickly. you chuckled. “that’s more like it.” at that, you entered class and he walked away. there was something about him...

“pay attention mrs.granger.” you felt like rolling your eyes at your professor. he was always finding a reason to kick on the gryffindors. however when snape saw nearly everyone was struggling, he huffed and raised his hands to gain the class’s attention. “alright. split into groups of two and finish the potion. do not pair with someone from your house.” everyone shuffled around- harry was looking at you. you acted first, picking up your books and moving to harry’s desk. “hi.” you said. “hello.” he responded. you two worked silently but used teamwork. you ready him instructions while he acted out. “wow, we’re doing way better than i thought we would’ve.” you gave him a curious look. “not that i didn’t think you’d do good, i meant-“ you cut him off by laughing. “you really are my brother aren’t you?” he went quiet. “about that.” you moved your head up to look at him. “i guess we should talk about it.” he nodded in agreement. snape approached your table. “since you two like to do a lot of chatting, we’ll test your potion. snape stuck a dropper in the potion and poured it onto a round item covered in warts. slowly but surely, the warts popped away. “perhaps you’re not as incompetent as i thought.” was all he said before leaving the cauldron and dismissing you both.

you and harry spent the rest of potions and a bit of lunch sitting outside, talking about life and everything you missed out on. “so when you were thirteen- you blew up our aunt?” harry laughed harder at the memory. “harry! there you are.” hermione and ron showed up behind him. “oh- hey guys. wanna sit?” hermione gave you an uncomfortable look. “i’d love to, but i need to speak to you alone harry.” just in cue, you heard your best friends voice. “(y/n)!” you turned around and saw pansy as well as draco. “it’s fine, i have to go anyway. see you later.” you hugged your brother and you both split off. “finally talked to him?” pansy questioned. “yeah. it felt good.” she smiled as a response and the three of you settled on hanging out near the lank for the remainder of lunch. you didn’t catch it, but draco smiled at your happiness.

one week till halloween. you were more upset than happy, but harry wasn’t too effected, but he’s known the truth for 4 years. you found out last month. since it was a weekend, the hogwarts students were roaming about, chatting about their plans for the big night. your friends apologized to you, explaining that they all had detention early morning with mcgonagall. well- all but one. draco walked up to you in the common room and sat beside you. over the past month you and draco became even closer than before. you found yourself having a lot of alone time with him, learning new things about the boy every time. the more you learned a the more interested you became, and before you knew it; you were slowly falling for draco malfoy.

“hey.” you chimed. “do you want to go for a walk?” he said after a minute of silence. you noticed he wasn’t making eye contact with you. you set down your book slowly. finally he looked at you, curious why you were taking so long to answer. “are you bloody deaf? i asked if you wanted to go for a walk.” you giggled while nodding. “yes-yes, i just love hearing how sassy you get. cmon.” you left first and you could hear draco mumbling something along the lines of ‘i’m not sassy...’ under his breath. you thought he was adorable.

the two of you ended up at the lake. it became a usual hangout spot for you and your friends. you did things like talk the day away, finish homework and especially practice magic here. there was a small patch of flowers in the grass- that’s how you identified your spot. as you and draco relaxed you flicked your wand, a flower now blooming in your hand. “..you love that spell.” he said, interrupting his last sentence. you looked at him, moving your body so that you were facing him. “guess i do.” you hummed softly, leaning forward to tuck the chrysanthemum behind his ear. he looked at you like you had three heads- was he not used to kind gestures? “that looks nice next to your hair.” you commented. his confused gaze stuck. you ignored it and continued swishing your wand, anxious that you may have done something wrong. just then, draco let out a sigh. “goddamnit.” he sounded defeated. “what’s wrong?” you asked. he finally looked at you normally, but this time he looked sad. “you. this is all your fault, you know that? i’m supposed to be this cold hearted, asshole type of guy. i wasn’t going to let myself get soft for some girl, especially an american.” you had no idea where he was going with this. the more he spoke, the more nervous you got. is he saying he doesn’t want to be friends? “but you’re so kind, and smart. you care so much about your friends and those you love. how could i not like you? and you being gorgeous is just a bonus...” you could not believe what you were hearing. was he admitting to having feelings for you? the silence scared him, so you spoke up. “are you saying what i think you’re saying?” he winced. “bloody hell, i’m saying i like you, you dimwit!” so you were right. “well..i like you too, draco?” he widened his eyes and tilted his head as if to say, ‘really?’ “yes, you dimwit.” you mocked. he chuckled and pulled out his wand. “hold out your hands and close your eyes.” you did as he asked, feeling something sprout in your palms. “open.” when you did, what appeared to be a flower crown (made up from chrysanthemums) rested in your hands. you gasped from joy, lifting it up so you could get a better look at it. “i love it.” you spoke. “(y/n)...would you ever consider being my girlfriend?” you felt time stop. draco really wanted you to be his girlfriend. “yes!” you said happily. he beamed back at you, looked at the flower-clad ground and smiling even brighter. “cool.” he chuckled. “cool.” you responded.

a few days later when you finally got the chance, you ran to your dorm to write to lena and gina. they were gonna flip! just as you planted the wax seal, you heard screaming coming from outside your door. there was pansy, bursting in and hugging you. “you’re dating draco?! oh my god!” she squealed. you laughed at the excitement. “yes! it’s amazing isn’t it?” you said. “yes! oh i’m so excited, my two best friends- dating!!!” pansy smiled greatly. “i’m going to the owlery, would you-“ “DRACO! take your girlfriend to the owlery!” you shook your head at pansy, bidding her goodbye and leaving with draco.

“who are you sending this to?” draco questioned as you attached the letter to the owls leg. “my friends back in america.” you stared as the owl flew away, farther and father, until it was out of sight. suddenly you felt a hand wrap around your waist- draco was looking at you with heart eyes. “what?” you laughed. “you’re just...really gorgeous.” you blushed hard. you didn’t even notice that you were staring at draco’s lips- and he was staring back. you both leaned in closer and one of his plate hands cupped your cheek. “can i kiss you?” he whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure you heard it. still, you nodded and he closed the gap. his lips were as soft as clouds, fitting like a missing puzzle piece with yours. you could’ve stayed like that forever; just you and him. but all good things must come to an end, right? “(y/n)?” the voice of your brother alarmed you, making you break away from draco. “potter.” draco spat. “get away from her!” harry ran to pull you away from him, standing in front of you as if draco was going to hurt you. “harry what are you doing?” you whined, moving him out of the way so now you were in between the boys. the way the two boys looked at each other- you knew there was some history you haven’t discovered. “protecting you? you don’t know what he could’ve brought you up here for!” draco looked at you; he was extremely annoyed. “harry, draco’s my boyfriend. i’m fine..” harry’s mouth hung open, eyes flickering from you to draco and back again. “potter, is there a problem?” draco asked in his usual sassy voice. “let’s see; you’re dating my sister, why would we have a problem malfoy?” shit.

harry stormed away out of rage. the walk back to the common rooms was silent. your head was too full to talk. you had just reconnected with harry, were you going to ruin it all just by being with draco? you really likes the blonde, but was he worth ruining your new founded family? “what are you thinking about?” he spoke finally. you snapped out of your gaze, shaking your head. “nothing.” “no, i know you’re thinking. you get all quiet when you think.” he knew you well, which made you feel a little better. “i think harry’s mad at me. i just met him and he already hates me.” draco cupped your cheeks, making you look at him. “listen to me- he does not hate you. you’re his sister, his only family. he couldn’t hate you.” you smiled in his hands. you told him you’d meet him back in the common room later. you had to find harry.

you walked around the castle for what felt like an hour, finally finding him in an empty classroom on the third floor. you entered silently. he was sitting on a desk with his back facing you. “hi.” you choked out. harry turned around and said nothing when he saw you. you took it upon yourself to sit next to him. “harry-“ “do you like him? like, actually like him?” you thought about it for a moment. you considered lying, maybe that’ll make him hate you less. but you knew he’d eventually find out and it’s only make things worse. “yeah. i do.” harry put his face in his hands. “not only are you a slytherin but you’re dating my sworn enemy.” he shook his head and laughed while saying it. “hey!” you said while playfully shoving him. the laughter died and you sat in sad silence again. “i don’t me being with draco to mess up our relationship.” harry but his lip in thought. “is there anything i could do to make it up to you?” you pleaded. an idea popped into your head. you pulled out your wand and swished it- a flower wreath following. “chrysanthemums?” harry asked, taking the wreath into his hands. you smiled. “yeah.” he put the wreath on his head as a joke, but it brushed some of his hair out of his forehead on the way. “i meant to ask you about the scar.” “what about it?” he said. you moves your shirt down, exposing the lightning bolt scar on your chest. “blimey.” he looked very shocked. “i don’t really know what this means.” you whispered. harry shook his head, implying he didn’t either. “are we alright then?” harry fidgeted with the wreath. it dawned upon him that no- he couldn’t stay mad at you. you’re the only family he has left. “i guess.”

over the next week you magras to patch things up with harry and draco well enough to celebrate halloween in peace. the feast was ravishing. you ate so many sweets that you couldn’t imagine having back in america. as per usual you sat with the slytherins- but something was telling you u that you should be with harry. so without a second though you turned to draco, “what do you think of eating with harry?” he almost spit out his pumpkin juice. “you brother hates me (y/n), you know that.” he knew you were going to get your way, but he was trying to convince you not to. your mind was made up. “he’ll have to deal with it.” let’s just say gryffindor wasn’t too fond of having slytherins at their table.

being draco’s girlfriend was a blessing. he showered you with gifts, affection, appreciation. you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. there was never a time where you doubted his feelings for you. now was one of them. you two were in his dorm, listening to the soft, low music coming from his record player. you were both just gazing at the ceiling while wrapped in each other’s arms. it’s not that you didn’t love lazy days with draco- you certainly did. you just really wanted to do something right now. “draco?” you finally said. “hmm?” you loved when he responded with a hum. you couldn’t explain why, but it made you go all fuzzy inside. “i wanna do something fun,” you flipped over so you were hovering above him now. he scrunched his brows. “like what?” you thought about it. what could two, 15 year olds do at one in the morning? “wanna sneak into the kitchens?” he burst out in laughter. you wanted to ask him what was so funny, but with a smile like that? you had to laugh with him. “alright- alright. let’s go.” so that’s how you two ended up there, pajamas and all. everything would’ve gone fine if draco would’ve just worn shoes. “bloody hell!” he screamed, dropping all the snacks. draco stubbed his toe on a nearby cart, and of course he had to be dramatic about it. “draco hush!-“ but it was too late. the lights turned on and the house elves caught you, immediately reporting to filch.

you never wished draco wasn’t such a diva more than right now. your saturday was being stolen by detention. even though you were with him, the detention was being watched by snape and you weren’t risking it again. you checked the clock; still two hours? god, you were gonna be here forever if something didn’t happen- “professor!” it was dolores umbridge, dressed in all pink, stumbling through the door. “yes, professor?” snape sneered. she straightened herself up and spoke in her high voice, “there are difficulties with some gryffindor student i could use some assistance with.” she said. “is there anyone else you can ask? i’m preoccupied at the moment..” she giggled. “yes, but i’m sure these students will listen to you.” umbridge looked at you and draco, obviously noticing the green color on your robes. “besides. i’m sure they’ve learned their lesson- haven’t you, children?” you both nodded frantically. “you’re dismissed.” you and draco shot up, not asking any questions and only daring to speak once they were both out of ear shot. “you’re an idiot, you know that?” you told him, playfully (but not really) shoving him to the side. he took your hand and put it in his, smirking to himself more than at you. “‘m your idiot.” rolled your eyes at the blonde. he really was.

before you knew it, the school year was passing by. you and harry were going to america along with some other friends to visit your home. ron was a nervous reck on the plane, not understanding why muggles put themselves through this torture. finally the four of you landed, slowly but surely making it through security and such. that’s when you spotted your two best friends- from miles away, at that. you ran towards them at full speed, almost toppling then over when you embraced them. “i missed you so much!” lena shouted. “i missed you too! god i have so many stories- oh! i need to introduce you to some people!” you face palmed, completely forgetting about your guests. “this-“ you grabbed harry’s arm and shoved him in front of you. “-is harry.” your friends gave you the exact same look; ‘is he..?’ you nodded. “erm- pleasure to meet you. i’m her brother.” both their eyes went wide, and they both hopped on him. “anna is going to go crazy! two potters- wow! she’s already had enough with toria let me tell you-“ “gina!” you scolded. she just laughed. “ah yes, this is ron, he hated me when i first met him.” ron threw his arms up. “you’re a slytherin, what’d you expect?” you hit him in the head as a response. you also ignored how lena ogled ron. then, you felt your boyfriends long arm snake around your waste and press a chaste kiss to your head. “it’s not as bad as i thought it’d be here.” he commented. “and this my dear friends; is draco. my boyfriend.” draco smiled kindly and held out his hand. they both shook it. harry rolled his eyes in annoyance. then you saw her. “anna!” you’ve done a lot of screaming today, you noticed. harry showed up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder. “who’s that?”

harry almost cried when he found out he had a guardian. he had told you about sirius, but he sadly passed away. it’s like he was getting a second chance. anna took you all home in her van (ron getting even more nervous now). right now, all of you sat in anna’s back yard. “did you learn anything cool over there? new spells?” gina inquired. you smirked, pulling out your wand and preforming the spell you’ve mastered this school year.

“chrysanthemums?”

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css1992 · 4 years

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could u do more high school au's pls? I was thinking maybe rich popular peter who seems untouchable and then grungy tony who just doesnt care for appearances and hes been pining after peter his whole school life

could u make it so that tony is rich and everyone knows it but he just doesn't care about his money and doesnt act rich so it's one of those things that u know but dont acknowledge. also if tony's daddy issues made an appearance id be so happy ty.

I’m so sorry for the delay, but I really do hope this scratches your itch!

***

He had that sort of beauty that almost hurt to look at. So pure and soft. Pink cheeks, small eyes that squinted when he laughed – which was often –; brown, wavy hair, so shiny and silky-looking; thin, pink lips, always stretched in a smile. He had the most beautiful smile Tony had ever seen, too. Honest and wide, happy.

He was never alone. Of course he wasn’t. He was too magnetic, there were always people drawn to his light, following him around, laughing at his jokes, making him laugh in return. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him, a scrap of his attention. And he, being the lovely human being that he was, made room for anyone who wished to bask in his light.

Jocks liked him. Peter was great at team sports, he was light on his feet and good with his hands. He wasn’t in any teams, though, claimed he didn’t have the time, but he was always picked first in P.E. group activities. Tony knew, watched him at practice way too often – from a distance, of course, as he did his stretches and sit-ups with Rhodes.

Nerds liked him, too. He was really smart, an asset to the Decathlon team, and was always willing to help anyone having trouble in class. Even the weirdos from drama club, glee club and the school band loved him – he never made fun of them, on the contrary, he was always very vocal about how talented they were and how he wished he could be a part of their clubs, too.

Girls swooned at him. He was kind and sweet, a good listener, and gorgeous. Guys weren’t immune to his charms, either. The ones Tony knew for a fact that were gay or bi didn’t even try to pretend they didn’t watch him when he walked down the halls, but even supposedly straight guys, like Steve Rogers, sneaked a peek now and then, face flushed, if he was wearing specially tight jeans.

Tony was jealous of all those people, but he learned to deal with it. He’d been, well, admiring him from a distance for years. He was used to seeing people make passes at him, ask him out. Peter was discreet, though. If he ever dated anyone, nobody ever heard anything about it. He was a mystery, Tony wasn’t even sure if he was gay, straight, bi or whatever – there were rumors that he had made out with Wade Wilson in freshman year, but neither of them confirmed or denied it. Tony hated the guy anyway.

“If you keep staring, people are gonna know you’re in love and not actually dead inside,” Rhodey spoke up right next to him, taking a huge bite of his tuna sandwich. Tony averted his gaze from Peter’s table for a minute and looked at his friend, annoyed. “It’s gonna ruin your whole aesthetic.”

“Very funny,” He rolled his eyes and looked back at Peter. There were so many people around him he could barely catch a glimpse of his smile, which was annoying.

His dad’s company, Parker Innovations, had just released a new phone a few weeks earlier, it was ridiculous how many people thought they could get one for free if they kissed his ass hard enough. At least Tony didn’t have to endure that kind of nonsense anymore. People in that school learned very early on that even though he was related to Howard Stark, he wanted nothing to do with the guy – or his company, or his money. They also learned sucking up to him did nothing but annoy him, so they kind of just forgot he existed over time and he blended right in with everyone else – a blessing in its own right.

“Rhodey is right, you’re drooling, it’s a little embarrassing,” Natasha looked at him with boredom as she nibbled on her fries. “You should just ask him out, you’ve been pining for ages.”

“I’m not pining,” he huffed, irritated, and the redhead smirked, raising a perfectly manicured brow.

“Right, yearning might be more accurate. Bruce?” She glanced at their other friend who scratched his chin, pretending to think about it.

“I think obsessing sounds more like it. Rhodey?”

“Fuck you guys,” he barked before they could keep the game going, and all three laughed at him. Someone got up from Peter’s table and he caught a glimpse of his beautiful face, their eyes made contact for half a second and Tony looked away.

“No, but seriously, Tones. Just go talk to him, he’s a great guy, I’m sure he wouldn’t be an ass about it.” Bruce adjusted his glasses and said that like it was simple. Like he would have the guts to do it if he was in Tony’s position – he wouldn’t, he’d pined for Thor, an exchange student, for a year, and never worked up the courage to ask him out. The guy went back to Norway or whatever and Bruce never even said hi to him.

“I know, of course he wouldn’t, but I don’t wanna be one of those people begging for his attention, just look at that.” He pointed at the little crowd around him, people were almost literally fighting for his attention, the poor guy could barely finish his lunch. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you’re not them,” Natasha said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world and Tony frowned.

“How am I different?”

“You’re a certified genius, you and him have similar interests and you look hot in a ‘I’m gonna fuck you raw in the back of my car’ kinda way. I don’t know, maybe he’s into that.” The redhead shrugged, again, saying all that like it was obvious and an unquestionable truth.

“Yeah, right, sounds just like him,” Tony scoffed.

Peter was perfect in so many ways – perfect face, perfect body, perfect grades, Tony was sure he pooped out candy or something – of course he wouldn’t go for a guy like him. He had a bad reputation, he was in detention more often than not and people in general considered him an asshole – all because he didn’t partake in their little games of social climbing or whatever. No, Peter wouldn’t go for his grungy ass. He’d probably go for all American, apple pie, boy-next-door Steve Rogers.

“No, she’s right, I’ve seen him looking at you several times.” Bruce pointed out, not for the first time, and Tony scoffed.

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“AP chemistry class. I’m his lab partner, remember?” How could Tony forget? As Mr. Erskine called out their names, Tony prayed to a God he didn’t even believe in that he’d be paired up with Peter, but no such luck. “He stares at you whenever he has a chance or an excuse. You know, when you blow things up, for example.”

“Yeah, which is why he must stare, he must be afraid for his life.” Tony hated to admit that he was way more prone to causing explosive accidents when Peter was in the room. It was fucking embarrassing.

He sighed, drinking the last of his coke. No matter what his friends said, he knew he didn’t stand a chance with Peter. He was… Untouchable. He was too good for him, Tony wasn’t even sure he’d want to taint him if he had a chance – no, scratch that, he definitely would.

He chose to watch him from afar, allowing himself a few fantasies and daydreams. He had this really stupid and lame one, where he walked up to Peter in the hall, people just parted to let him through, then he gave him his trademark, lopsided grin and asked him out. Peter smiled brightly up at him, holding his books to his chest, cheeks flushed, eyelashes fluttering as he whispered a shy “yes” and leaned up to kiss him. Yeah. That was the whole fantasy.

Peter was so untouchable to him that he didn’t even dare to dream further than that. Of course when he was alone in his room, late at night, relieving himself, a few… less pure fantasies popped up unsolicited, but he felt so guilty then, dirty even, like he was disrespecting him somehow. It was all very confusing, but he still came, shamefully, to the thought of his beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure as dream-Tony fucked him.

The bell rang and everyone hurried to get to their next period, Peter was no different, he gathered his things and stood up, looking around the cafeteria like he was looking for someone. Their eyes met again for a second, but Tony quickly looked away, grabbing his backpack in a hurry to leave.

It was Thursday, the worst day of the week for him, none of his friends were free to hang out with him until later, so he either had to head home and deal with Howard or he had to find somewhere to be for a couple of hours, until Rhodey was done with football practice so they could go to his place. That day, Tony decided to just stay by his car, smoking a cigarette and singing along to Black Sabath’s Iron Man, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go. He was so distracted watching the smoke dissipate into thin air that he didn’t notice when someone approached, and jumped almost a foot in the air when they spoke.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught smoking on school grounds?” Tony almost dropped dead when he registered the angelic voice. He was already having a heart attack as it was, but the boy was so close and he had that beautiful smile in place, blushing cheeks and all. It took almost a full minute for him to calm himself down.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” The older teen answered when he finally found his voice and got his breath under control enough not to make a fool of himself. Peter smiled wider, biting his lower lip.

“Your secret is safe with me.” He fake whispered, leaning a little into the older boy’s space and he almost choked on nothing. Peter’s smell was inebriating, expensive and sweet, but not overly so – perfect. He recomposed himself quickly, though, and nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t sure why Peter was talking to him and, frankly, he was too fucking nervous to think of anything cool to say. The younger teen deflated a little faced with Tony’s silence; he looked around, seeming a little lost. “You’re Tony, right?”

Fuck, the way he said his name. His name. It was fucking music to his ears, the most beautiful tune. But how did he even know his name? Sure, he was Tony Stark, so not really anonymous, but people often forgot about it.

“Yeah. And you’re Peter.” Tony didn’t play games, he didn’t even try to pretend like he didn’t know who Peter was. It would be dumb anyway, everybody knew him. The other boy nodded shyly, it looked like he wanted to say something else, but he kept biting his lips and looking around nervously. Tony frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“No. I mean, yeah, sure, it’s fine, it’s just, uhm. I have a flat tire and the wheel bolts are really tight and I couldn’t get them off, so I thought – I mean, could you, uh –“ He gestured wildly as he stuttered out his answer, looking in the general direction of his flashy, cherry red sports car. “I mean, it’s okay if you’re busy, but I –“

“Sure, I’ll help, don’t worry.” Tony threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it. He was a little more at ease now that he knew why Peter was talking to him – he just needed help – and the best thing was, Tony was really good with cars. Of course, one didn’t need to have a PhD in mechanics to change a tire, but it still made him feel really good that he would be able to help properly.

“Thanks, you’re a life saver.” The chirpy attitude was back, as well as the smile, it made Tony’s heart flutter. He nodded sharply, looking away from his face, and gestured for Peter to lead the way.

When they reached his car, Tony whistled lowly, crouching down to look at the completely flat tire, as he tried to find the source of the problem. He was surprised to notice a two-inch cut on the surface of it, and it didn’t seem accidental.

“Fuck, Peter, it looks like someone sliced your tire.” When he looked up at the younger boy, he didn’t look surprised, but nervous. It was an odd reaction. Tony wondered if Peter already knew that – maybe he knew who did it and was scared of them? It made Tony’s blood boil. Why would anyone do that to Peter?

“Wh-what? How do you know that?” He bit his lower lip nervously, scratching his arm, and Tony frowned, worried.

“Here, look.” He gestured for Peter to crouch down next to him and pointed at the cut. “This is clearly a stab mark. Judging by the size and shape of it, I’d say this was probably done with a pocketknife.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Clearly.” He face-palmed, like he felt stupid, maybe for not seeing it before, but Tony still worried.

“If you want, I could go with you to the administration. We can ask them to check the security cameras. I think that one might have caught whoever did this.” He pointed at a security camera nearby, Tony knew where all of them were in the parking lot area – he’d been caught smoking way too many times not to know.

“What? There are –? I mean, look, it’s okay, it’s probably just someone trying to play a prank, it’s no big deal, it’s fine.” He stood up quickly, shaking his head, and Tony was positive he felt threatened somehow, he was acting so weird.

“If you’re sure… But if you change your mind, I’ll go with you, ok?” Tony stood up and took off his leather jacket. The weather was nice, just a bit chilly, so he was wearing a thin, white t-shirt with short sleeves underneath. He thought he heard Peter’s breath hitch for a second, but it was probably just his imagination. “Can you hold this for me?” He held out his jacket and the boy blushed, blinking rapidly.

“S-sure.”

Tony bit his bottom lip to refrain from asking, again, if everything was fine. Peter looked so freaking nervous, he was even sweating a little at the temples. Tony was positive he knew who did that to his car, but didn’t want to tell him for some reason. Maybe he wanted to protect whoever did it, maybe it was a boyfriend, or an ex. He gritted his teeth, hands closing in fists, but didn’t say anything, just crouched down and got to work.

The first bolt came off easily, it wasn’t tight at all, so he thought maybe Peter had already loosened it when he tried earlier. The second and third ones came off just as easily, though, only the fourth one was a little trickier, but nothing the younger teen couldn’t have handled himself. Tony thought maybe he hadn’t tried too hard, maybe he was afraid the person who did that would show up or something. He was so glad he was there to help, he wondered if Peter felt safe with him around, and the thought made him feel oddly proud and protective of him.

He made quick work of changing the tires, making sure not to screw the bolts too tight, then put the sliced one in the trunk of the car. When he turned around to look at Peter, he was looking intently at him, almost hypnotized, holding his jacket close to his chest like it was a puppy.

“All done.” Tony smiled and the boy seemed to snap out of a trance.

“Oh, thank you so much, really, you’re too kind.” He smiled broadly and the older teen scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Don’t mention it.” They were silent for a few seconds after that, but Peter kept holding his jacket and didn’t make any move to give it back to him. “Uhm, could I–?” He gestured towards the jacket and again the boy jumped up in surprise.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, here.” He handed it to him and quickly crossed his empty arms over his chest. “So, uhm,… Your dad is having a gala this weekend, right? Are you gonna be there?” Ah, so Peter did know who he was, not just his first name. The older teen leaned against the car and stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

“Not if I can help it.” He smirked, trying to act cool, but now that he didn’t have anything to do with his hands, he was growing nervous.

“Oh,” Peter looked… disappointed? He dropped his gaze to the floor, shuffling his feet, and Tony stood up straight, frowning.

“Why?”

“Nothing, it’s just – my parents are going, so I thought I’d tag along to, you know... but it’s okay.” He kicked an imaginary rock and avoided Tony’s eyes. The older teen stared at him with wide eyes, heart beating fast – what was the end of that sentence? Peter couldn’t possibly mean–

“I don’t – what, you’d go to, like, hang out with me or something?” He felt stupid when he stumbled on the words, but Peter didn’t seem to notice, his cheeks were burning red and he was looking anywhere else but at Tony.

“I mean, you must have much better things to do, of course, I was just –” He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head, finally looking up at Tony. “Sorry, just forget about it, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No, wait!” He rushed to interrupt him and Peter looked back at him with huge, Bambi eyes. Tony coughed awkwardly, blushing a little. “I mean, like, uhm… If you – would you wanna go as my date? To the gala?” He blurted out, finally, because what the hell. The worst that could happen was Peter say no, and he could deal with it. He would survive, for sure. It wouldn’t be a big deal. Really. It wouldn’t.

But he didn’t say no, he smiled broadly, eyes twinkling in excitement.

“I’d love to!” He answered quickly, and Tony’s heart fluttered, Peter looked genuinely happy. “Could you – uhm, text me what color of tie you’ll be wearing? If you want! I understand if you think it’s lame, but I thought–”

“No, it’s fine.” His heart was beating so loud, Peter Fucking Parker wanted to coordinate ties with him, it was fucking corny and cliché and he loved it. “Uhm, here, give me your number.” He fished his phone from his back pocket and gave it to the younger teen.

“Cool.” Peter typed in his number and as soon as he gave his phone back, Tony sent him a smiley face so he would have his number, too. “Cool, cool, cool...” He rocked on the balls of his feet and looked around, like he was looking for something else to say.

“So… Do you have to be home soon or…?” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets again, wondering if maybe he was pushing his luck, but Peter shook his head quickly.

“Not really, no, my parents don’t really mind what time I get home as long as I let them know. You?”

“They don’t really care.” He shrugged, taking one step closer to Peter. “So… are you hungry, by any chance?”

“I’m starving.” He nodded, looking up at Tony in anticipation. It drove the butterflies in his stomach crazy.

“I know a place where they serve great burgers. We could go in my car and I could drop you off here on our way back, I’m just a little worried someone is gonna try to fuck up your car again. I mean, what if they’re targeting you or something?” Just the mention of what happened earlier made Peter nervous. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket and shook his head.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.” He didn’t look worried, though, at least not anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, trust me, I am.” Tony found the sudden change odd, but thought maybe he was just trying to play it cool, so he let it go.

“Okay, then, c’mon, my car is right there,” Tony gestured to his car and Peter smiled, taking his hands off his pockets. When he did, though, something slipped out and fell to the ground with a metallic noise. Tony quickly crouched down to get it for him, when he noticed what it was. “Wh – is that…?” He frowned, examining the pocketknife as if it was alien material. He was confused at first, because Peter didn’t seem like the kind of guy to carry one around, but then it dawned on him. When he looked at the younger teen, his face was so red it looked like he was about to explode.

“Uhm… If I told you I’ve never seen this before in my life would you believe it?” He chuckled nervously, scratching his arm, as Tony stood up. The older teen raised a brow at him.”Sorry, I just – I wanted an excuse to talk to you.” He said quietly, dropping his gaze.

“You know, you could have gone with the weather or whatever.” Tony answered, amused, and it made the younger boy look up at him.

“You’re just very intimidating,” He looked at him with huge, scared eyes, and Tony cocked his head to the side.

“Me?” He raised a brow.

“Yeah.” Peter answered pointedly, and Tony smirked, offering him his knife back.

“You do realize you just sliced your own tire so you’d have an excuse to talk to me, right? And I’m intimidating?” He joked, but Peter didn’t seem to find it funny. He winced and covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed.

“You must think I’m such a freak,” He groaned, voice muffled by his palms.

“Hey, hey, yes, I do think you’re a freak.” He grabbed Peter’s thin wrists and marveled at how perfectly they fit in his hands. He definitely saved that thought for later. “But you’re a really cute one.” He grinned and Peter chuckled, a delicate flush rising onto his cheeks.

“I feel stupid.” He admitted, worrying his bottom lip, but Tony shook his head, working up the nerve to cup Peter’s face in his hand.

“I feel flattered,” He said, honestly, and Peter’s breath hitched. He stared up at Tony, eyelashes fluttering, moist, pink lips slightly open. The older teen leaned down slowly and when the Peter closed his eyes, their lips touched. Just like in his fantasies, Peter tasted sweet, his lips were soft and his arms circled Tony’s neck in a warm embrace. When they parted, Tony smiled down at him, stroking his blushing cheek. “Just promise that if this doesn’t work out you won’t, like, key my car or something.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, but they both laughed out loud, as they walked hand in hand across the parking lot.

#starker #high school au

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transsexualhamlet · 3 years

Text

asmr i psychoanalyze hide for fun

a lot of these are just stupid headcanons but a lot are also how i feel that’s just the way he is so

I know no one will read this it’s so very long but hello he’s my comfort character

(the words are under the cut bc THERE ARE SO MANY WORDS)

thoughts: It’s funny because most of the characters that I really love are just fucking idiots. So stupid. No thoughts head empty. And like at first glance you’d think the same with Hide, he’s got the look of a real dumbass, but he’s actually a really smart person? He just kind of, hides it. He did say he was like allergic to books once (it’s the adhd, king) but that doesn’t change the fact that he emotionally is actually a very intelligent person. It’s something he’s humble about because I don’t believe he really identifies with the intellectual crowd or sees himself as particularly above average, he just finds it easy to understand things. And he doesn’t ever use it for his own advantage even when it would be totally fine to do so, he pretty much always uses it to help other people and I think he believes if he used his strengths to help himself it would be, like, selfish. Which is a problem of his.

gemder n brand of gay: A lot of people in yonder Fandom like to see kaneki as bi and hide as gay but nah fam you’re off. Honestly I do not care about his Date With Rize in the slightest, that man is a homosexual. Hide is the bi one. (it’s not like this is a requirement or anything lmao i am just Saying also i’m bi and i’m projecting) I can also say with confidence that date with Rize was the only date Kaneki’s ever been on and he was definitely lying to himself. (i just, don’t know how you could look at Haise specifically and for one second think he has ever seen a boob) Hide’s the one who’s probably dated people before and he actually knows what’s attractive, he probably just doesn’t discuss that a lot with Kaneki since the bitch is Closeted and hide knows this. It’s funny because Hide canonically has two dads. Like I think that kind of explains him tbh. Bitch has good parents??? He’s the only one but we love him for it. U know Kaneki spent more of his life at Hide’s house than his own.

And as to gender, like obviously hide’s a guy, but i think he’s one of the few cisgenders who could like... tell you why. He’s well versed in those kinds of issues and has just thought about it a lot I guess? He’s comfortable in his skin and with a conventionally masculine appearance but he could tell you what Boy TM means other than yo macho man dude bro guy

personality type- ENFP-T: I took the fucking test for him and it was like... so easy. Took me ten minutes.

basically what this means is it just calls him out as a fucken loud ass sunshine boy who has very many emotion and cares way too much about his friend

love how this part of the description describes kaneki and hide perfectly

biggest strength: he’s so good at helping people?? Like I can honestly say if some random person started rambling about their relationship issues to him I’d give him 10 minutes before he had a perfect solution, he had the person crying and being comforted in just the right way. He’s the perfect medium of confident and caring and he’s not just a fucking ray of sunshine on accident, he’s like, mob psycho 100 style actively working to be nice and compassionate. He’s very aware of how his actions affect people and he always knows just the right thing to say, what to do, when to just let things go or when to say them. And Hide will forgive, literally anything, even if someone does something really shitty to him he’ll realize it’s the product of like, unresolved mental issues or something and seek to fix it instead of cutting the person off. It’s... really good for everyone around him. But well,,, not great for him, see below.

biggest weakness: bitch does nOT leave room for himself. Although he is generally a confident person and isn’t very insecure, he knows he’s giving too much of himself and simply ‘pretend i do not see it but in reality i do’. He’s never put himself first and feels more worthy when he makes someone else happy, and it’s really not that visible but it can take a pretty big toll on him. He’ll feel anger and frustration for his problems but eventually he will end up blaming himself for anything that goes wrong and will just resolve to Try Harder. (which, mood) He does problem solve well and he tries to come up with the best solutions to issues but the fact is he just does not prioritize his own happiness within those solutions. He gives too much and it’s fucking killing him.

what he likes most about himself: Although he does have issues obviously, I don’t see Hide as someone who has particularly low esteem of himself. I think he pretty much thinks he has himself figured out and therefore other people’s problems come first. He generally does, think fondly of himself, because most of the time he can fix people’s problems so he’s yknow, a good person. I think he likes his ability to enjoy life and live in the moment, and he likes his connections and friendships with other people. He values emotional connection and he likes that he can easily create and enjoy good vibes. He loves being the one who everyone just... goes to for a good time.

favorite things: I think I heard somewhere that he enjoys dumb american bands without really understanding what they’re saying which seems very on brand for him, but I’m gonna perscribe him some other stuff too. Obviously he likes bright colors and comic books, and places where he can have fun with other people. He generally likes college, even though it’s like, school, and unlike kaneki he actually had a good childhood and he enjoys the places he spent time and formed good memories, he has Nostalgia TM (see unbelievable by owl city hmmm he vibes to that he was born in 1996 or something right i can’t google things) he also just really likes to just, fix other people’s problems but we’ve covered that.

what he’s doing right and what he’s doing wrong: Hide is doing his best. He’s no less flawed than any of the other characters in tokyo ghoul, it’s just that his strategies tend to involve 100% less murder. Ok no, let me rephrase that, Hide is flawed, but i meant like emotionally, he’s not a war criminal like everyone else. He may seem at first glance like, just, perfect? Sorry for being a simp lmao but I feel like from the outside he’s just got it all together right? He knows what he’s doing and he’s super nice and helpful and smart and humble and just doesn’t have any visible flaws? He... tends to hide any evidence that he would ever be struggling. And that’s not very sexy of him. He feels it would be a burden on others to show pain or ever say he can’t take something on (if someone asked him to do something he’d do it even if he was already mentally at capacity etc) and that’s something he needs to work on. The good thing is that if they got to a point where after Kaneki’s Character Development they got to just... like, be happy and not be separated and everything Kaneki would be good for him because he compliments that. Hide helps him because he needs a lot of like, mental counseling lmao but now that Kaneki’s gone through a lot of that his eyes have been opened more to the fact that Hide hides his problems from Kaneki so if they could just bE HAPPY this is an issue that could be resolved

insecurities: I think Hide kind of believes he’s not allowed to be sad. Cause it’s like, not his job. He’s the source of happiness for everyone else, supposed to have everything together so he can fix everyone else’s problems. he’s not allowed to be in pain or feel bad for himself even though he knows “Boys Can Cry” it’s like, yes boys can cry, not me tho haha lmao it’s not about his masculinity it’s just he’s like “yeah but kaneki’s had it worse” so like if he finds himself in a bad place, he feels inadequate and like... fundametally broken. and it’s. Like. I felt that but also like king that’s not how it works

goal in life: I think he wouldn’t really be able to answer that question. What the truth would be is that he probably wants to do something grand and important that helps a lot of people and kind of changes the world. But he might not really think of it that way, since he’s usually focused more on smaller more isolated issues and he has no idea what he wants to do as a career. He admires activists and people who put themselves at risk but it probably makes him feel inferior that someone else is Doing Something About This Big Problem and he’s just sitting there riding around on his bisexual bike and being in college. (I’d like to say he’s probably changed majors at least a few times,,, that man was like “oh yeah lmao i’m gonna be a comic book artist” but someone said something about how he’s a good therapist and he’s like “brb kinshift i am now a psychology major” lmao.) (hello i am projecting but i’m right) He sees a tumblr post about some issue somewhere and he hyperfixates on it for days until he sees another post about something worse it’s an issue. But I think what he ended up doing was what he wanted to, even if he never recieved any recognition for it the internal sense that he was doing something Right TM in the eyes of history would probably make him cry

how he was raised: I can’t really say much to this because there’s barely any canon on this and the canon that does exist I have completely ignored other than the fact that he has two dads. Bro tbh? He didn’t need any tragic emo backstory I think he had a great childhood. Honestly he’s probably a rich kid. Not super rich but he’s not struggling man. Not gonna lie to you I think the only reason he went to Kamii was because he wanted to be at the same college as Kaneki who probably got a scholarship. Hide, didn’t. (it’s not like he’s not intelligent but I don’t really think that his grades are his biggest priority, the only time he ever pays attention in class is to give kaneki the answers when he’s gone)

What irks me about the random lore drop in the last chapter about him having a CCG dad that died or whatever- it kind of ruins the whole point for me. Personally I choose to believe he had nothing whatsoever to do with ghouls or the ccg before all that happened to Kaneki. He probably had correct opinions on them, but only like, in theory, it’s like straight people that are like “yeah ofc gay ppl valid” but they’ve never really had any personal experience with any. So when he gets involved in that- the fact is that the only reason he was... was bc of kaneki. It was never more complicated than that to me. YKNOW, SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST, NICE, OK?

And I think for me that the fact that he could actively choose to be nice and be aware of all these problems when he’s practically got every advantage in life is a lot more important. He didn’t have to be poor or have a dead parent or have a shitty childhood for him to be really genuinely good. I don’t think he’s ever been bullied or anything, but he can still be aware that it sucks to be bullied. I think he was just... raised right. I think his dads are probably pretty fucking baller for him to be such a bro. They taught him the right shit.

General philosophy: Hide is one of the only people in the series for whom the dynamics of right and wrong are not hard to understand. He’s never been required to pick up a weapon or actually truly fight in the CCG, he’s never been really mean to anyone. Of course I can say he’s probably decked a few ppl that made fun of Kaneki in middle school, but haven’t we all. The thing is that though he’s never suffered at the hands of others, everything that’s hurt him he’s gone in fully consenting to it- he can still understand and forgive what everyone else has done. Like bro he’s the literal only one around who’s not like a literal war criminal, but he’s not going to think he’s better because of it, because he understands that if he had been in their circumstances he couldn’t say how he would have turned out.

That’s why I think it’s so important that he never really had a bad childhood- he’s not better than them for turning out without any blood on his hands, because he was never required to. And he knows that and he goes through every day with all these people who have and is conscious of it. He can’t ever say he’s incapable of hurting other people, because he would have said that about Kaneki before all of it happened. So he’s quite politically correct compared to Kaneki and the others but he doesn’t see things that way.

relationship bullshit: i mean bro i know this is a serious post about like psychological and emotional things but i felt the need to discuss whY does everyone write hide as a bottom I mean like sure he’d bottom if his partner was a top but this is simply not the case with kaneki look at him. Hide. Service top. I rest my case. The man’s the biggest switch ever but when he’s a top he’s a nice top. I think Kaneki needs that to be perfectly honest. He really likes to take care of people. Also kind of off topic but his love language is quality time he just wants to play video games wit da homies and he might fall in love a bit

I find it genuinely funny how much i cannot get away from the tentacle porn on the god forsaken archive of our own just looking at the tags i already know it’s so out of character haitoheoihesdsdsa and don’t get me started on the vore

how kaneki sees him vs how he actually is: One of the biggest problems in kaneki and hide’s relationship is how in the beginning, Kaneki didn’t really understand at all that Hide could be hiding anything from him. Kaneki’s not good at picking up clues like that in general, but the fact that he was hiding so much himself didn’t help at all. Hide gives off the vibe of someone who has no inhibitions and shows every side of himself without hesitation, and Kaneki really does idolize that. He didn’t realize that Hide could possibly be suffering or imperfect compared to his vision. He sees Hide as practically an angel, and that’s exactly how Hide wants Kaneki to see him, because he doesn’t want to burden Kaneki with his own problems since he believes they’re not as important and they would make Kaneki sad. Kaneki knew Hide wasn’t as oblivious as he seemed, but he didn’t really understand what that meant until too late. The good thing about Kaneki’s character development though is that it then helps Kaneki understand that Hide was suffering because of him and he didn’t want Hide to hide it anymore (lmao). If they’d only executed that point well that could have been really good but well that’s what fanfic is for

how he sees kaneki vs how kaneki actually is: This one’s a lot more difficult, because well. Hide’s very good at knowing exactly how people are in their hearts, compared to Kaneki. But there are definitely some things that he’s not super up on. He wasn’t around for a lot of Kaneki’s development, so most of the time I think he still believes Kaneki doesn’t want to see his pain, which is, simply incorrect, Kaneki would obviously not be happy to hear it but it would tear him up inside to realize he’s been oblivious to it the whole time. He’s grown a lot more mature since he spent most of his time with Hide, and I really think Hide could benefit from being able to open up to Kaneki the way he is now. And well. I think his biggest misconception has to be that Kaneki enjoyed women lmao

the most him thing i’ve ever done: listening to a happy upbeat song and visibly bopping while also uncontrollably sobbing

miscellaneous headcanons:

-he’s a morning person lmao. Motherfucker gets up at 6 AM and Kaneki is like PL EA SE NO

-what he finds attractive is like. twinks and girls with hair in colors that don’t exist and ppl who don’t know what gender is

-He likes Imagine Dragons lmao you can see by the next point

-his coping mechanisms are mostly music and other people tbh he’s like “oh i am having emotions? disgusting” *goes to a party*

-he plays dnd and he mains a warlock i don’t make the rules

-he doesn’t look like someone who would do that shit but he probably knows how to use tarot cards

-idk how but that motherfucker is so neurodivergent i can smell the hyperempathy on him look at that man he has so much adhd

-he’s fully aware that his fashion sense is terrible and continues to wear more and more ridiculous clothes to piss kaneki off

-this man has tungle dot fuck. Look at him. His url is probably something along the lines of my ao3 username lmao

-he can see the forbidden shrimp colors smh

-this bitch likes mob psycho 100 and the promised neverland, kaneki keeps telling him to watch death note and he’s just like n o hhsdfhhfdshdfshdfs he probably kins tpn emma

-he doesn’t know how to drive lmao he bikes everywhere and he lives in tokyo

-i am once again thinking about how he was in a play with kaneki and kaneki was the main character and he was the spicy side character that’s not a headcanon just. that

songs that are, him:

-Stand By You (Rachel Platten)

-Luck (American Authors)

-Love (Imagine Dragons)

-If I Lose Myself (One Republic)

-Stardust (New Politics)

-Secrets (also one republic)

-Flaws (Bastille)

-100 Bad Days (AJR)

-I Lived (another one republic lmao)

-Battle Scars (Paradise Fears)

-Rise Up (Imagine Dragons)

yeah he definitely listens to this shit lmao

#tokyo ghoul #hideyoshi nagachika #hidekane #kanehide #jesus christ i am hyperfixated #rowan's hyperfixation essays

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venialsun · 3 years

Text

to begin with, take warning (1/3)

[read on ao3]

1 | 2 | 3

Dick watched Damian physically try to not show his nerves on his face for a full ten minutes—with the success of a trained actor and the failure of a nervous fourteen-year-old playing it off to his older brother—when he caved. They had just driven past the Welcome to Gotham! billboard with “u sure?” and “go back to metropolis cuck!!!” graffitied in looping, hot pink script on the side. It’d be another twenty-five minutes of traffic before they made it to central downtown, and Dick could only stand so much of not-twitchy, not-nervous, I’m-above-this Damian before he burst into laughter and caused some problems.

So he said, “It’s okay to be nervous.”

And from the passenger side, feet up on the dash, looking at his phone, Damian snapped, “I’m not nervous! What is there to be nervous about? It’s an American high school. Big deal. Last week, I stopped a planet-wide catastrophe that would have killed billions in another galaxy, and every night, unless you don’t know, we fight actual monsters and supervillains who actively try to kill us. Some have even succeeded. This is nothing.”

“Yeah,” said Dick, “maybe don’t mention all that on the first day.”

“I know that.”

“And I think you mean ‘my friends and I went to space and stopped a war.’ You know you have to give them credit, too.”

“They’re not my friends,” said Damian. “I work with them. Father isn’t friends with every member of the Justice League, yet he’s worked with near every one of them on League missions. They are my colleagues.”

“So what you’re saying is that you are organizing and leading team missions?” Dick could not keep the amusement out of his voice. “What happened to ‘Teams are unnecessary and a waste of time’? What about the Titans? I know they invited you back.”

“Timothy leads the Titans,” said Damian. “And there’s no room for two Robins on the same team.”

“Mm, don’t know about that, but I also know neither of you would play nice long enough to really try. So no team, okay,” Dick agreed, “and you just happen to be having adventures with other underaged heroes of no relation to you on a periodic basis. And they’re not your friends.”

Damian blinked away from his phone—success!—and scowled. “I do not get your obsession with making friends, Richard,” he said.

Dick splayed his hands on the steering wheel. “I’m glad to see you hanging out with kids your own age, is all. It’s good for you.”

Damian snorted and looked out the window. Gotham’s littered streets and the growing mob of early-morning commuters blurred gray in the smog. In tones of great solemnity he said, “That’s what this whole thing is about, isn’t it? I am going to school to learn how to maintain a secret identity and cultivate a normal public persona. I will be surrounded by kids my own age, and I will be sure to make connections that I will treasure for the rest of my life. These next four years will be the happiest of my life, I know it.”

Dick laughed, and Damian smirked.

“Alright, smartass, I get it. You’re Damian Wayne, haver of too many titles and not leader of any teams, and you’re not nervous about going to high school. I believe you.”

They stopped at a light. Gotham Academy was a few blocks ahead. If they walked, they could be there in ten minutes. Driving as they were in the morning congestion, it would take at least fifteen. Dick didn’t mind. He hummed to himself, waiting. Damian went back to his phone. The light turned green. Dick eased his foot off the brake. They advanced slowly and made it to the front of the line of cars, when the light blinked yellow, then red, and they stopped again.

Damian said, “Father says you were a good student. Well-liked. Studious. Only Robin’s duties caused problems.”

“Bruce said that?” Dick rolled his eyes. “Of course, he did. School was fine,” he said, “though I was mostly focused on being Robin and then the Titans at the time. It was nice, I think. It seems so long ago. But it was hard to have a life there when the most important parts of my life were somewhere else.”

“Wait, Grayson,” Damian said, gleefully, “were you unpopular?”

Dick chuckled, and the light turned green again. “I don’t know what you mean, Dames. I didn’t have that much trouble, and I had a good group of friends. But sometimes I thought it was all a waste of time, time I should’ve spent being Robin. It wasn’t easy hiding parts of myself from my classmates. Keeping the secret meant I couldn’t really be myself or talk to anyone about anything other than school.”

“Until the Titans,” said Damian.

“Until the Titans,” agreed Dick. He glanced at Damian, still with his marginally tense shoulders. “If it counts for anything,” he said, “I don’t think it was a waste of time now. I’m glad I went. I think this is a good thing.”

“Tt,” Damian tutted, but his look was speculative.

“I won’t lie to you and say you will love school. But give it a chance. You might end up liking it.”

“Ever the optimist.”

Dick pulled up into the line of cars for day student drop-off. Gotham Academy stretched across the block, its front tower looming darkly over them in the morning fog. Teenagers in uniform and cheery-looking adults were wandering about, huddling in groups or directing the flow of foot traffic to the entrance and around the side of the façade.

“Got your schedule? Know where you’re going?” Dick asked.

Damian glowered at him.

Dick chuckled. “Right, right, ‘course you do. So I’ll pick you up at four o’clock, okay?”

“And not a minute later,” threatened Damian. And then he set his shoulders, got out of the car, slammed the door, and marched away like he was going into battle.

Dick couldn’t help himself. As he pulled away, he rolled down the window and shouted, “Have a great day at school, Damian! Love ya!”

Without turning around, Damian flipped him the bird.

A whistle blew, and in the rear view Dick saw an upset-looking woman, probably an administrator, point at Damian and loudly scold, “Young man!”

Dick winced, sympathetic yet unrepentant, and merged back into traffic.

Whoops.

•

Yanez knew this would happen, but she had thought it would be at least until midday. Homeroom hadn’t even started. She was busy alternating between threatening her teachers to smile and look happy to be here and smiling half-encouragingly, half-threateningly at students and shepherding them away from their hormonal clusters, when Headmaster Hammer cut a line through the crowd and headed straight to her. A sour-faced Damian Wayne kept pace behind him.

“Good morning,” she greeted, raising an eyebrow, and silently prayed for patience. “Can I help you?”

“Principal Yanez,” said Hammer. He motioned Damian in front of him. “Your student is in need of a reminder of our disciplinary code of conduct.”

Yanez did not miss the emphasis on your. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Hammer was still smarting over his demotion from Grand Headmaster of Gotham Academy, with the full powers that entailed, to “Grand Headmaster” of Gotham Academy, a purely honorary title that delegated tasks to the grammar, middle, and upper level administration that Gotham Academy had been divided into. She ignored him and looked down at the dark-haired boy in front of her. He glared back, defiant.

Ah. One of those.

“Damian Wayne, right?” she asked. “Isn’t it too early to be getting in trouble on the first day of school?”

“That depends on your definition of trouble, I suppose,” Damian said. To her surprise, he had the barest hint of an accent. British, maybe. He stuck out his hand. “You must be Samantha Yanez, the Head Principal for grades nine through twelve.”

Bemused, Yanez shook his hand. “That’s me.”

“I can only hope you are better than your predecessor,” said Damian. He glanced at Hammer and managed to make it seem like he was looking down his nose at him, despite being a full foot shorter. “He left much to be desired.”

“Note that down, Principal. Another perfect example of abhorrent and disrespectful student behavior,” said Hammer.

Yanez frowned. “What happened? Perhaps we should take this in my office.”

Already Yanez could see the curious bubble of students starting to form, talking behind their hands or blatantly recording on their phones.

“Certainly,” said Hammer. “It will help expedite the expulsion process.”

“That remains to be seen, Headmaster,” said Yanez.

She led them back to her office, past the crowds of mingling students and through the arching stone hallway that had been commandeered for the clerical staff. She took a seat behind her desk and indicated for them to sit. She tried not to be too annoyed when Hammer went instead to stand behind her, looming over like a gnarled skeleton.

“Okay,” she said. “Damian. Why don’t you explain to me why Headmaster Hammer has brought you in here? He’s threatening expulsion, but I only reserve that option for the most extreme of cases. Think this merits that?”

“Hardly,” scoffed Damian. “My brother was dropping me off and I flipped him off.”

“You—you flipped him off? You put your middle finger up at him?”

“Yes.”

Yanez barely resisted the urge to laugh and glanced at Hammer. His expression was thunderous. She looked back at Damian and waited, but he did not elaborate. “Why did you flip him off?” she asked.

“He is an embarrassment to me.”

“All brothers are embarrassing to their siblings, especially younger ones. Is there more?”

“No.”

“He has treated every administrator that tried to correct his behavior with rancor and disrespect,” said Hammer.

“Hrm.” Yanez steepled her fingers together. “Headmaster Hammer, could Damian and I have the room? I’ll take care of this. I’m sure you are very busy, and I know Principal Trammer could use the help with the elementary kids.”

Hammer scowled—Yanez knew he hated dealing with the primary school kids—but did not argue and took his leave.

When he was gone, Yanez took a moment to study the young boy in front of her. Petulant and angry, dark-haired, brown-skinned, and light-eyed, something tense and haughty in his shoulders—he looked every bit like any of the troubled kids Yanez had taught over her decades-long career. And yet nothing like them at all. There was something different in the set of his chin, the sharpness of his gaze, his crossed arms, like he was looking for danger and ready to meet it.

“Do you want to be here, Damian?” she asked.

Damian’s mouth twisted. “In this room, wasting my time? Not particularly.”

“Well, we can agree on that,” said Yanez. “But I meant here, Gotham Academy.”

Damian shrugged. “My family insists this will be an enriching opportunity.”

“They’re probably right. But I have looked at your records. You tested out of most of the core subjects, and your home-schooling portfolio is very impressive. Yet you are signed up for the standard ninth-grade honors track. When your Father and I met this summer to discuss the terms of your enrollment, he told me you insisted on it.”

Finally some of the animosity slipped from Damian’s face. He seemed intrigued. “You spoke with my father?”

“Only the once and very briefly,” said Yanez, “but yes. He said re-enrolling at Gotham Academy and coming back to school was your idea.”

Damian scowled.

“So I believe some part of you wants to be here, wants to be a student. Is that accurate?” she asked.

“I already regret it,” Damian muttered.

Yanez smiled. “Not the resounding yes I wanted to hear, but I’ll take it.” She reached into a side drawer and pulled out a quarter-sheet of yellow paper and scrawled down a few details. “If you want to be here, then being a student means abiding by some ground rules. Respect others, respect yourself, respect the school.”

“My respect is earned,” said Damian, “not freely given because of some archaic code of conduct.”

“Then you’re already miles ahead of most of the people in this building,” said Yanez. She handed him the slip of paper. “Respect is earned, yes, but you have to give people the chance to earn it in the first place. That means holding off on rude gestures and comments when it can be helped, which is most times. I am giving you two days of community lunch tutoring for flipping your brother off on school grounds and insulting the administrators.”

“Community lunch tutoring?” Damian echoed, scanning the slip.

“It is similar to detention, but instead you tutor other students and help them with their assignments. Report to the technology atrium during your lunchtime today and tomorrow.”

“Sounds dumb,” said Damian. “Why not just expel me?”

“For expressing your feelings and saying mean things to grown adults?” Yanez chuckled and shook her head. “Damian, this is a high school. If I expelled every bratty kid with no respect for authority and a penchant for dramatics, I would be out of a job. If you want to flip people off and bad-mouth teachers and administrators, that’s your business. It is not in my power to stop you, not fully anyway. You’re a smart kid. If you want to be a delinquent then at least be smart about it. If you get caught or the wrong adult overhears you, then you and I will be meeting more often, the repercussions will not be as merciful, and I will have to do a lot more paperwork. And Damian?”

She waited until she had his full attention, and he looked up, curious.

“I hate paperwork,” she said. “Don't let it come to that.” She waved a hand. “Now get out of my office. You’re late.”

next ->

#spades #fic #damian wayne #dick grayson

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eerythingisshaka · 4 years

Text

PTA III

[Trevante Rhodes x Reader]

Word Count: 2.2K

Summer had come and gone in the blink of an eye yet felt as long as finals week when you were earning your teaching degree. School ended last quarter with a clumsy splat seeing as the first wave of virus knocked everything out of order very quick. You stressed out running lessons to the school for kids to pick up and working with families with limited to no internet access pulled your patience to its thinnest layer.

So when all had officially finished, you had to take the time to yourself as best as you could. In a normal summer, you would plan a getaway to just about anywhere you hadn’t seen before and the more solo the better. Sipping something alcoholic in a warm climate with the Sun toasting your skin to its peak melanated beauty was all you would need to pack you full of endorphins that could last you into the next year.

But that wasn’t the plan now. Travel restrictions keep you from going out of town and you can’t even get a decent dinner anymore seeing as most restaurants are dine out only. The only silver lining you can muster is the mask mandates allowing you to keep from smiling at strangers in awkward politeness when they get in your way. It is a layer of protection for your sanity and solitude.

However that wasn’t the only silver lining you have from the summer. Mr. Rhodes, or Trevante as he has to still remind you, became very generous with his time with you outside of the classroom. As much as you try to keep things professional for your jobs sake, he won’t let you be for any little thing. Your email has message after message from him asking about simple math for everyday things that apparently Nemour needed refreshing on, followed by a ‘so how you been doing?’

Email 1

“Dear Ms. (Y/N), I am contacting you in regards to my son, Nemour. While in the grocery today, we came across a sale for oranges, 3lb. for $5. But then this other store has 5 lb. for $6. Now he is itching to know what price would be the better one to go for?”

Your response:

“Dear Mr. Rhodes, Although my primary concentration is History, you can tell Nemour that he should go for the second deal with 5lb.”

“Perfect, that’s why you’re the teacher! So...how’ve you been?”

Sometimes you reply, and sometimes you leave him on read, it depends on how conversational you feel. But as time progressed, you got excited to see his emails asking to remind him what the 3 branches of government are or what amendment means what? He even got you on video chat to discuss.

“What?! So slavery isn’t really abolished on that bullshit?” Trevante exclaims in awe.

You throw your hands up, aghast as if you just learned it yourself. “That’s the thing about American government. They will throw a loophole where you least expect it and throw a parade like the shit ain’t bout to pop out.”

“Damn! That’s like some Trojan horse shit honestly,” he shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer.

You snap your finger, “Exactly, my man, exactly! That’s why nobody can agree on anything worth a damn. There’s gonna be a clause somewhere that adds some shit that makes the whole thing rotten. But you didn’t hear it from me, so don’t let Nemour know I’m saying this kind of stuff.”

He twists his face in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I? My son got a right to know about what this country is founded on. Everyone does.”

“Yeah I know. Just...when topics like these pop up it’s difficult to keep it all…” your voice trails off as you search your bedroom for the words you are looking for.

“Politically Incorrect?” he offers.

You nod a little. “Kinda, yeah.”

He sets down his beer, sitting a little closer to the screen. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that. History is literally set in stone. If we didn’t have it, we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves now.”

“Do we know what to do now though?” you ask in a higher pitch, squinting like you stepped in hot coals.

Trevante took a minute looking at you before dipping his head down to chuckle. You could hear the pounding baritone in his chest from your speakers.

“What? What’s that about?” you ask.

He sits up again, stroking his beard, “It’s cute when you make your face like that. That’s all.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your scarf further down your forehead to make up for slipping.

Trevante tuts at you. “I need a bucket or something to catch these compliments you keep throwing away that I toss at you. You don’t believe me or what?”

You give a very dignified look, “I believe I am beautiful. I just don’t believe in entertaining a parent, is all.”

Trevante sighs. “Summer don’t count (y/n). You’re not his teacher now so what’s the issue?”

You look off to the side and back at him. The crisp white t shirt he has on is obstructing more of the view of his body then you care for but the tightness at the sleeve around his bicep makes up for what you know is already there.

“Hello?” he says.

You blink a few times, crossing your arms. “Hm?”

“You go off into space a lot too. What’s on your mind when you do that?”

His arms around your waist that tightly bind you to his body as you inhale his sweet cologne that is perfectly distributed from his neck to chest.

You scratch your neck, and tell a half lie. “Oh, just this new school year.”

“See this is a perk of having a teacher friend. Fill me in, what’s up?”

“Well, all I have right now is that we are doing hybrid learning, so some classes at the school and some at home. Now the district just need to provide the materials for the kids to be able to do that. The internet, the laptop/tablets, and make sure we can all connect and no one is behind on lessons. And since I am on the front line, I have to get creative with the lesson plans and keep people on task and on time.”

Trevante nods. “Well me and Nemour are excited to see what you have for us next year, whatever it is.”

You smirk at the encouragement. “Thank you Tre, but I can’t guarantee we will be together for the next school year. That’s decided at random. Plus the grade he is in next year is the last one I teach.”

“Nah, we gonna be in there. If I have to sign a petition or boycott like these hot breathed whites out here not wearing masks, we will be in your class this fall.”

You bust out laughing at his determination. “Dang, Tre! Don’t go starting a ruckus up there cuz of me! He will still be taught well, whoever he has a teacher.”

He makes a cut it motion across his neck. “Nah, we only rock with the best and that’s you up there. I will make all the, what you call it? Ruckus? That shit! So I will be seeing you first day in the fall, ok?”

You feel heat spread over your skin from shyness. His brash attitude comes out and makes you feel like a superstar. “Ok, I’ll hold you to it. How’s Nemour doing anyway?”

Trevante nods, picking up his laptop as he changes rooms. “He is doing well, being a regular kid. Playing and doing his chores.”

You nod. “Great!”

He closes a door behind him as he lays the laptop down, you can tell he is laying across his bed on his stomach as he speaks.

“He has been asking me a lot more questions about police and like, if they stop me or him, what’s gonna happen and what do we do? Should we run away? Can we not live by cops, stuff like that.”

You heart breaks hearing this. “Wow, and this is coming from a child?”

He nods, resting his chin on his forearm. “It’s part my fault. I’m always looking at the news and if he sitting at the table eating breakfast or whatever, he’s gonna see it. I cut it off when they show bodycam footage though cuz that is nothing but toxic.”

“I can’t count how many times I had to see them replay that man dying in the street. And in front of people watching, they don’t care who is watching cuz what can you do? You can’t interfere or that’s a charge on you but he could’ve lived.”

Trevante looks spaced out for a second hearing this. “I know, and that’s why it’s hard explaining to Nemour what everything is about. I give him the basics though: Do what the officer says, don’t argue, and don’t get into shit that’s gonna get the cops called on you either. But it sounds played out to even say. What did everybody else do that’s dead now?”

“Nothing. Sleep in their bed, going to the store, jogging. Not a damn thing that warranted a bullet.”

Trevante gives a small shrug, looking sad like he is staring at his reflection in a pond. “Yeah, so he been grappling with that and that’s a lot for a kid his age. That’s why I want him to be your student still too cuz you’re one of the only Black teachers there and I honestly think he is uncomfortable with white people right now. We went to the store the other day and he calls himself protecting me saying if the man getting bread bothers me, he put on his little Timbs so he can stomp him for me.”

You gasp at the thought, giving a weak smile. “I mean, that would go viral for some child to curb stomp a big old white dude.”

Tre smiled some too. “I think Nemour was this close to saying ‘Don’t worry bout it sweetheart.’ I can’t let him look at no internet again.”

You put your foot up and say, “He finna give him that SPLAHH!”

Trevante laughs heartily, wiping his eyes, “You more hip than I thought too.”

“I had some wine earlier, so that might’ve helped.” You put a finger to your mouth and pull up the glass from the nightstand.

“Oh shit! So this is Turnt Teacher! Go head then, don’t let me stop you”

You wave him off. “You aren’t stopping anything. If nothing else, you keeping me going. All this house shit is working my last nerve, it’s nice to see a familiar face every once in a while.”

“I think so too. You’ve been a great addition to some weeknights this summer.”

You put a thumbs up as you sip your wine. “Are we still doing a movie tonight? I think it’s my turn to pick.”

Trevante curls up a lip. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your heart sank a little, already having queued up a selection to watch. “That’s ok, it is late.”

“Yeah, but really I wanna see you in person.”

Your body tensed at the invitation. Thinking over the last few months of chatting, he has warmed up to you as an individual, but you aren’t sure if that feeling can translate outside of a screen. Behind the camera it’s safe, you can be cute and mysterious but vulnerable and clumsy and it all comes up roses for him. In person, cute and mysterious can seem pretentious and vulnerable and clumsy could just be a weirdo geek to him.

“Well,” you start, “I would but...you know this...pandemic is just…”

“I know,” he says.

“...awful, right? So I just don’t think I can comfortably do that...now?”

Trevante thinks for a second. “We can stay within the parameters of the guidelines though right? Six feet, masks, no crowded space. If you want, we can do that. I just…” he sighs heavily, looking tired as he rubs his eyes, “...I have been getting stir crazy and you are the main one I have been keeping contact with outside of family, yet I only spent time in person on Valentine’s Day that one meeting we had. And you had a date later!”

You laugh at him, remembering their first meeting that could’ve been an email no doubt.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? Be honest!”

“Tre, I told you-”

“See? You even call me Tre now. We familiar right? I don’t usually have to beg like this but ma’am, you almost got me on bended knee!”

“Uh…” you start to feel bad but your mouth stops working under pressure.

“Six feet,” he reminds you. If nothing else, that makes you less inclined to want to go because what can you do? No kissing that’s for sure.

“I don’t want to confuse Nemour,” you rebuttal.

“He will be watched by a guardian, trust me. He won’t be cramping out grown folks business.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach that fuels your excitement. A plan to go out, with a man no less! This could turn the summer around or be a disaster on the horizon.

“Don’t overthink it. You’re a smart woman, but I don’t want you to overcalculate this. You wanna see me, I wanna see you. We’ll play it safe, and finally see each other in some natural light.”

You nod slowly, a smile creeps across your face as his argument finally sways you. “Ok, I’m in. Pick the time and place.”

Tag you!

@chaneajoyyy

#shakafic #trevante rhodes fic #pta

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spartanguard · 4 years

Text

even death won’t part us now (5/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

A/N: Brace yourself for some feelz, friends; that’s all I can say about this chapter. (There’s just...a LOT of emotion. You’ll see ;) ) Eternal thanks, as always, to @optomisticgirl for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair for her amazing art (LOOK AT THAT AHHHHHHH); and to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

if you’ve ever seen AVPM/S, I’d like you to imagine Draco Malfoy singing the Anita part and that’s what my high school’s production of West Side Story was like

part five: tonight, there will be no morning star

The skyscraper was a wonderful invention; a marvel of modern engineering. The ability to construct a building all the way into the clouds was one of the many things Gold was glad he had lived long enough to see. He’d been impressed enough when the Equitable Life Building opened in 1870; the balcony he stood on now was at least five times higher in the sky.

It was a good thing his sense of vertigo was long-dead, else he might not be able to spend as much time out here, looking down on the city, as he did. It made him feel like some modern monarch, surveying his kingdom from on high. In reality, it was much more complicated than that, though he’d spent long enough building his empire that it wasn’t far-fetched to call it a dynasty.

He sometimes lamented that his efforts would never be documented in history books; how he’d spent centuries working away right under the noses of the mortals, and they remained oblivious. Maybe he’d make that his next project. Surely there was some suffering, underappreciated writer he could bribe with immortality...ah, but not tonight. There’d be time for that later. First, he had to weather whatever was coming.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but something in the air was different tonight; a sense of anticipation was floating on the wind, carried along by the brine of the ocean. He tapped his fingers on the rail of the balcony but was unable to tap down on what it was precisely.

“Hello, Rumple,” a voice he’d never be able to forget said from somewhere above.

Ah, perhaps that was it then; he always had a sense for when she was around. “I thought I smelled betrayal and cheap wine on the breeze. Good evening, Cora.”

The woman dropped from the roof above, landing gracefully on the terrace without even wrinkling her pantsuit. Her style had always edged on sharp, though this seemed surprisingly simple for her; he recalled bigger shoulder pads the last time he’d seen her—what was it, ‘85?

“You seem awfully calm considering what’s about to happen tonight,” she said, ignoring the jibe. Ah well, it was worth a shot; he hadn’t been able to get a rise out of her since 1621, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

He scoffed. “What, a minor scuffle? Two lads having it out over a couple blocks of territory? Seems to me it’s far more personal than anything that would actually mean something.” He’d had to restrain himself from chuckling when Jones told him about the fight; they had no idea.

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown so dense that you don’t realize what this means,” she preened.

He wanted to call her bluff, but if there was one thing he’d learned in over 400 years of dealing with Cora, is that she rarely did. “Enlighten me.”

“It means your underlings are growing restless and tired of this. Mine too. And I’d rather not have this end the way it did last time that happened.” ‘Last time’ being a bloody war; they were able to hide it from the mortals within the confines of the American Revolution but it was a near miss. He’d began rebuilding his ranks immediately; she’d taken her time. And here they were now.

“Chaos has always been my friend, dearie; I can’t say I’d be too upset if it broke out now.”

“While I wouldn't mind it either, I’d be watching your back a bit more closely. Didn’t Jones bring up something...rather interesting earlier?”

Somehow, a chill ran down his unfeeling spine—not just at what Jones had asked about, but the fact that she seemed to know about it as well. “It’s nothing; just a myth. It’s not possible.”

“Please. Think of everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve been through together. Nothing is impossible.”

“I’ve made sure of it.”

“Have you?”

She was always good at poking his buttons. And he was done with it.

“Go. And never come back.”

She had to obey, at least, and he took a small thrill in the way she involuntarily started to climb over the balcony’s railing. “Fine. I just thought I was doing you a favor, but I see it’s not wanted. See you in another 30 years, Rumple.”

She let go and fell back; he didn’t watch to see what happened when she hit the ground. He wouldn’t put it past her to frame him for murder, but she had a different angle this time.

Even though she’d left, that sense of apprehension lingered. Something was indeed coming, something that would change things in his world—but what?

And why did he get the sense Jones was involved?

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

The sun wasn’t even below the horizon before Emma left home, shouting a quick “goodbye and good luck” over her shoulder as she headed out into the evening. If she were in her normal skip-tracing clothes (aka her normal clothes), she’d be running across rooftops to get to Granny’s in no time flat. But no, this was a honeypot, so she had to walk, lest she break the only pair of heels she could actually move in without pain. (That was one thing she’d been dismayed to discover: heels still hurt, even if she recovered faster.)

Still, she powerwalked to Granny’s in record time. “Evening, Emma,” the old wolf called out. “The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, slipping onto her normal stool at the fairly empty counter. It was weird—for a place known to so many, it always seemed to be fairly empty. She had to guess that last night’s meeting was the most crowded it had been in ages. Or maybe that was just part of the magic of the diner.

If she had to guess, the guy at the booth on the other side of the room was a werewolf, based on scent alone; and there was what looked like a fairy bachelorette party at the large booth in the corner. (Not to be confused with fae—she made that mistake once and only once.) Being the only vampire, it was kind of nice to feel like the odd person out for a change. Though she hoped that changed soon.

“Order up!” Granny was suddenly in front of her with a plate of one of the few things on the menu Emma could eat: onion rings. (Onions that had been soaked in blood overnight, mind you, but that was enough for her to be able to stomach them.)

“Thank you so much, Granny,” she effused, and then moaned as she bit into one. “Have I ever told you you’re a genius?”

“It’s been mentioned once or twice. When does lover boy get here?”

As incredible as it was, Emma almost spat out the bite. “Excuse me?”

“Girl, you think I didn’t smell you all over him last night? He covered it up well enough for the others not to notice, but I know better.”

First Zelena, now Granny; they were both going to have to invest in industrial-strength body spray if they were going to keep this under wraps for the time being.

“Calm down; I won’t tell.” But she leaned in across the counter and lowered her voice. “But if you need a place to meet in secret, you know I have rooms upstairs. And I promise not to listen too close.”

“Thanks; I’ll, uh, keep it in mind,” Emma stammered, then hid her embarrassment in another bloody onion ring. Granny, unsurprisingly, cackled and walked away.

It would take more than a voyeuristic wolf to keep her from enjoying fried deliciousness, though, and she savored every bite—being glad she was wearing a red dress in case of drips (Deadpool totally stole that from her, as far as she was concerned)—until there were just two left: the most perfect, juicy, crispiest ones of the bunch. But suddenly, there was only one. And she also wasn’t alone at the counter anymore.

Two seats away, Killian sat with one of her onion rings, taking a slow bite that had her mouth watering in other ways; the way his tongue swiped away the bit of blood that escaped his lips was almost arousing enough to overlook the theft. Almost.

“All those manners and no one taught you to ask nicely?”

“I told you I was a pirate,” he tossed back, taking another bite. “Not a whole lot of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ going on there.”

“I highly doubt you ever pillaged anything as precious as those, though.” She started to stand up to close the distance between them, but he threw her a warning look out of the corner of his eye that made her pause.

“We’re in public,” he muttered with his mouth full. Damn, he was right; even if no one from either coven was here now, that could easily change. Which was really annoying because as good as his rum-flavored kisses tasted last night, she liked onion rings even more. And, you know, they probably had some business to discuss—like whatever Zelena had been talking about.

As if on cue, Granny slipped past again, but this time tossing a key (with a rather ostentatious keyring) onto the counter in front of her as she went to address her new customer. There was a room number written on it in Sharpie; Emma memorized the number and slipped the key into her lap as she sat back down. (While also making a mental note to try to find some sexy dresses with pockets.)

The appeal of her last onion ring waned given that there was something far more delicious-smelling a few feet away, so she scarfed it down, threw some cash on the counter, and then headed to the hallway that led upstairs. Granny definitely did better business in the diner than her inn, and it wasn’t anything special, but it was clean, which Emma couldn’t say about a lot of other places she’d been; her skps really loved the city’s roach motels. (Something told Emma the very nature of her host kept most vermin far from the premises.)

Room 305 was simple, sparse, but had a decent-sized mattress with a sturdy frame, and a clean bathroom. All she needed was the privacy, though.

She’d hardly tossed her purse and the key on the room’s table when a soft knock fell on the door; she wouldn’t have heard it if she was still human. She turned back and, out of habit, glanced through the room’s peephole; she was already getting a whiff of spicy and salty air through the door, but this was still the city and you couldn’t be too careful. But of course it was Killian on the other side, peering up at the door through his crazy long lashes.

She didn’t wait any longer to pull it open, and nearly as soon as she had, he was on top of her, claiming her lips with his and damn, she was right—onion rings tasted as good on his lips as they did on her tongue. (But his tongue tasted even better.)

Somehow, the door was shut behind them and while she wasn’t quite sure who was leading, they pressed together from tip to toe until they fell against the plush—and noisy—mattress, sinking in with a loud squeak of ancient steel.

“Should have known Granny would want to hear something like that,” he chuckled. “Saucy old wolf.”

“Eh, let her listen.” Emma’s own arousal was climbing too fast for her to care, and she pounced on Killian again, wrapping a leg around him and pressing her core against his. He was definitely eager, too, she could tell; it was kind of funny how, out of all the bodily functions that ended when a person transitioned to a vampire, arousal was the one that remained unchanged. She’d had her fair share of flings in her afterlife, but no one had her as keyed up as Killian did with so little effort.

His hand wandered down her side, squeezing her waist and then pulling her rear impossibly closer, before toying with the hem of her dress. “I thought last night’s dress was rather demure for you,” he said between kisses, “but this one is positively sinful.”

“Good. Means work will go fast tonight. Horny bond skips usually fall for it pretty fast.”

“I can see why. I’d tell you to be careful, but I feel like it would be better to warn your prey.”

“Emma Swan always gets her man.”

“What a lovely motto.”

“True so far. And that includes right now.” She sucked a line of kisses down his sharp jaw to the juncture of his neck, drawing a delicious moan from him. “Do you have one?”

“Aye,” he breathed, eyes squinted shut as if trying to regain his thoughts. “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

“And what is it you want?”

He opened his eyes—clear blue even in the dingy yellow light. “You, love. Just you.”

How could she do anything but kiss him within an inch of his afterlife?

Everything that followed was a rush of sensation rather than any coherent thought:

The brush of his beard against her neck, the firmness of his chest beneath her hands (as well as that of his ass), each graze of his fingers against her thigh as they moved her dress up.

The way his weight settled above her in a way that was both oppressive and comforting, the dance of fingers as they undid his fly (she wasn’t even sure whose all were involved in that), the bob of his cock as it sprang free from denim confines.

How something so hard could feel so soft in her hand—nearly enough to make him come undone on touch alone, but she’d be damned if she let that happen. (Or, well, damned more than she probably already was going to be.) How, for the first time in 15 years, she genuinely felt flushed.

It was all she could do to shove her lace panties aside and guide him home, and oh—she didn’t have the words for what that felt like: to be filled so perfectly it could have brought tears to her eyes (you know, if her tear ducts still worked).

And then he moved and—holy shit. Her fangs dropped down on their own accord again but she couldn’t be bothered to care this time; hell, all she wanted to do was sink her teeth into him, but she’d have to settle with using a heel to press him back in.

“You feel incredible, darling,” he murmured, slightly lisping—his fangs had dropped too. Maybe she hadn’t learned all there was to know about vampire biology. But that could be dealt with later; right now, she just needed him, and to find the release that was inching closer painfully slowly.

“So do you,” she whispered. “But it feels amazing when you move.”

“As you wish,” he said into her ear, his breath somehow feeling hot on it, and he complied. They started slow, careful presses in and out to find their rhythm, then picking up speed and power. She really hoped the bed frame would hold up (Twilight did get that part right) and was sure Granny was getting a good show, but she put any other wonderings into finding his lips again, the play of teeth and tongues and lips coinciding with the meeting of other body parts.

It felt like a slow climb—something she was used to in post-mortem relations—but then the precipice came out of nowhere and she was suddenly falling, gasping into Killian’s mouth as her release carried her away, though she held his shoulders with an iron grip to keep from floating too far.

He wasn’t far behind, she felt, and his fingers would have left imprints on her side were they still capable of being bruised. She felt his release spill inside her as his movements stuttered until he was done, slipping out and falling next to her on his back.

It was probably some long-buried instinct that left them feeling out of breath after sex, but Emma was pretty sure she was sweating. Dead or alive, that had been one of the greatest orgasms of her life—and, honestly, sex was so much easier while undead, what with the whole not needing birth control or being worried about STIs. But this—this was something else.

“I do have to admit, that wasn’t my initial aim in following you up here,” Killian said, pulling her into his side. “But I’m not complaining.”

“I think we’d have some issues if you were. You seemed very enthusiastic about it.”

“And how could I not be?” he smirked, turning to look at her. But then his smile fell, and he pressed his thumb against her lips; it came back red. “Apologies, love; did I hurt you?”

She licked her lips and tasted the copper. “No; I hadn’t even noticed. It might have been self-inflicted,” she said, pressing her tongue against her own still-exposed canines. “I wish I knew why that kept happening.”

“It’s just the effect I have on you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Her normal MO when flirting was to refute a statement like that, but...why lie? “I’ve been waiting to see you all day.”

“I can tell.” She lightly slapped his shoulder, and he chuckled at the reaction. “I felt the same way; I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“A day is a lot less than 15 years. It dragged but I managed. Thank you for not murdering my dad last night.”

“That wouldn’t have been very gentlemanly. And if anyone was going to do any assassination last night, it would have been Graham killing me.”

Ugh, of course he would; she groaned. “Sorry; he can’t take a hint. You make out with a guy once twelve years ago and apparently he keeps a flame lit for the next decade.”

“I can hardly blame him, especially knowing how you kiss.” His thumb again traced her lips, which had healed by now, and god, the reverence in that gentle gesture was nearly as overwhelming as her orgasm. But then his brow furrowed. “You don’t suppose true love’s kiss is real, do you?”

Emma blinked, confused; where had that come from? “No, probably not, though I wouldn't dare say that around my mom—she most likely believes in it. Why?”

“Granny mentioned something to me last night after the meeting, and I did some research today...were you also aware the prophecies were real?”

“No, I was not.” Though surprised, she listened as Killian told her about Gold and his powers—actual, honest-to-god, dark magical powers—and the prophecy that spelled his end. She wasn’t too surprised that it was kept under wraps, especially given what she’d learned from Zelena last night (which Killian somehow did not know, which made her feel like less of a newb for once).

But most shocking was the fact that Kililan thought she was the one the prophecy talked about. “Fuck.”

“That’s a succinct way of putting it.”

“I don’t word good, so the fewer, the better.” Quips aside, she was having a hard time wrapping her head around the whole thing. “So I might be the only person that can kill Gold and end this whole feud? That’s….a lot.”

“I know, but I want you to know it’s not a burden you carry alone.”

And then the other half hit her: true love. Did that mean…? “So...that’s us? That means we’re—”

“Maybe,” he said softly, probably sensing her panic. She couldn’t deny that she had deep feelings for Killian, but true love? That was...that was her parents, that was fairy tales; that didn’t happen to her.

“I don’t want all that,” she whispered. “I just want to be with you; I don’t want to be responsible for ending some centuries-long feud.”

“I know, love,” he murmured, and pulled her close; she was nestled into the crook of his neck and other than her dad’s patented hugs, she’s never felt so safe. “It’s not for certain; just a theory, and you’re under no obligation to act on it. But if you choose to, know that I’m here beside you each step of the way.”

“Or we can just run off; go hide in the woods upstate or something. Or Maine—or even Canada; they’d never find us there.”

“Not likely, no,” he chuckled; she could feel the vibration of it through his collarbone onto her cheek. “Maybe a cottage by the seaside somewhere? Some remote little beach?”

“Mm, sounds perfect.” Her parents would understand, right? And even if they didn’t….well, they could deal. “Let’s just do that right now. Let me go catch this skip, and then I’ll pack my bags and we can go.”

She felt more than saw his smile. “As much as I’d love that, I’m afraid I have some other things to attend to this evening.”

Oh right, the fight—how could she forget? “I guess that brawl is kind of pointless then, isn’t it?”

“Aye; perhaps why Gold seemed unperturbed by the idea.”

“Then what’s the point in letting it happen? Do you think you can stop it?” It was probably because she was fairly young and hadn’t been fully indoctrinated to the cause, but the thought of an inconsequential fight that had even a slight chance of becoming something worse—because, with the way tensions ran, that was alway a possibility—made her really nervous.

“I’ll certainly try; I agree, I don’t like the thought of unnecessary fighting, either.” And he’d probably seen more than his fair share of it. “Whatever happens, I’ll come find you when it’s all done—I promise.”

“I will hunt you down if you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less.”

She kissed him again, slower and sweeter than before. “Ugh, I don’t want to go, but this skip will pay rent for a month.”

“I don’t want you to go, but it’d be ungentlemanly to make you late for work.”

“Do you always have to be one?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

Thankfully, they had enough time for one more make out, and she was already making a mental note to hit a drug store later for some perfume; his scent was probably embedded in her pores at this point. (She also mentioned he might want to do the same; he said he’d stop by his apartment before heading to the fight.)

Eventually, they righted themselves and made their way out of the room, pausing for one last, slow kiss in the hallway after locking the door.

“Not a moment will go by I don’t think of you,” Killian murmured, but he may as well have shouted it for as hard as it hit her.

“Good,” she replied, hoping he heard how much she meant the same thing back.

With one final peck, she dashed out the back door and into the night, off to whatever seedy bar she was finding the scumbag-of-the-week. Hopefully, this would be a quick one—she already missed Killian.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

For a moment after Emma left, Killian stood stock still in the hallway, Emma’s scent lingering around him as his fingers traced the feel of her lips on his. That was not at all how he anticipated this encounter to go—he was fairly old fashioned in some senses, especially when it came to someone he wanted to court properly—but any complaint had died before he could give it voice. In a way, they were just making up for lost time, he supposed.

And he would see to it that they weren’t limited in that regard ahead.

Granny gave a lascivious wink when he placed the key on the counter in the diner, and he was sure she’d have more to say were the evening crowd (as it were) not filling up the place. He used that to his advantage and took his leave, even though he still had a few hours until he was due anywhere.

He spent a bit of time at the docks, mulling over how they’d changed over the years (and eyeing the ships for sale; he’d had to sell his last one and was in the market for something new, especially if a quick getaway might be needed at some point), before keeping his promise to Emma and stopping at his apartment for some fresh cologne to cover her scent. How no one had noticed it the night before was a mild miracle, but adrenaline would be running strong tonight and senses would be on high alert.

(He so loathed to erase the evidence of her on his person, though.)

There was still time to kill, so he walked slowly (well, for him) in the direction of the lot, even patiently waiting for crossing lights to indicate the all clear rather than dart out early like most New Yorkers did. He should probably find a snack, since he didn’t get to finish his drink at Granny’s; a hunger-like pang was stirring within, but there wasn’t enough time for that now.

The lot was mostly empty when he arrived, and the street oddly quiet; at least that boded well for this rendezvous—and perhaps he’d be able to maintain the peace.

As he got closer, a pinprick of light burned out of the darkness; it took but a millisecond for his eyes to adjust and see that Robin was waiting, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.

“You’ll smoke yourself into an early grave,” Killian scolded lightly, as he’d done many times before.

“Tis a pity I never got the chance, then, aye?” Robin tossed back. He and his wife had been emigrating to America in the mid-1800s when scarlet fever broke out on their ship; his wife and unborn child didn’t make it, but somehow, Gold had been aboard, and turned Robin before the disease claimed him as well.

In life, Robin had never had the money to maintain a tobacco habit, but once he found himself with unlimited time—and lungs that would never damage—he’d taken it up with gusto.

“Just don’t let me catch you vaporizing, or whatever it is,” Killian teased.

“Vaping, and no, never.”

They waited in companionable silence as Robin finished his cigarette and started on another. That caught Killian’s interest; while smoking might be a favored hobby for Robin, he’d never been known to indulge in chain smoking—unless he was nervous.

Footsteps on the other end of the lot drew their attention; David, Graham, and the others (though thankfully not Zelena) stepped from the shadows. At the sight, the twisting in his gut coiled again, and an ancient feeling washed over him: trepidation. He hadn’t felt that since...god, not since Yorktown.

And that clearly ended well. (He thought to himself, sarcastically.)

He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his sense of dread; it was certainly not the first time the two teams had gone head-to-head (even if he hoped it might be the last). He couldn’t count the number of lives lost to the feud over the centuries—thankfully few innocent ones, but the number of siblings-in-arms sacrificed to the cause was far too high.

He’d never been nervous before any of those encounters. So why was this one giving him anxiety?

(Because so much was riding on this. Because he didn’t want to let Emma down.)

Will and Henry appeared out of nowhere, suddenly behind them, and if it was possible for the scene to get even more silent, it did. The men were lined up shoulder to shoulder in two opposing lines; it was like the standoff in a terrible spaghetti western, but without the benefit of a Morricone score.

The tension was palpable as they all stood stone-still, waiting for the other side to make any sort of move. It would have been the perfect time for Killian to intervene—convince them all to back down—but he was too worried that even so much as a pin drop would make waves.

In the end, it turned out to be the drop of cigarette ash that sent things into motion; Robin’s burnt end had barely hit the ground before he and Graham were on top of each other, snarling and slashing in the middle of the carpark.

An outsider would have thought it was some strange dance, or possibly performance art, with the way they clamored at each other but never seemed to land any blows. But Killian’s keen eyes could see each dodge of a body from a clawing limb, their extended fangs thirsting for blood, and the way Graham curled inward when Robin landed a first, firm punch on the other man’s stomach; that finally drew Killian from his stupor.

“No; that’s enough!” he shouted, then put himself between them. “We don’t need to do this.”

Despite his advanced age, he didn’t have as much an advantage over the two of them as he thought he did; they simply jumped away and continued. Before he could step in again, a firm hand had him by the shoulder.

“Hey, this was your idea; what kind of power grab is this?” David growled; his other hand was curled into a fist. Should have known he’d be itching for a fight, too.

“You really think this will solve anything?” Killian spat. “Our bosses don’t care; this goes way beyond us, mate.”

Killian threw him off and made for the other two, who were now wrapped in what he guessed was some sort of wrestling move, arms gripped on the other’s shoulders. But before he got all the way there, David jumped in front of him.

“I’m not your mate.” David was glaring and trying to use his height advantage to intimidate, but Killian wouldn’t dare hurt the father of his love, even if he was his opponent at the moment.

“Fine, but I’m not your enemy either; you don’t even know what you’re fighting for.”

“You think I don’t know?” Now he was moving toward Killian—though, over his shoulder, he could see that Robin had landed another punch, this time on Graham’s chest. “Aurum turned me and my wife against our will. Aurum made our daughter grow up without her parents. You just take and take, and do whatever you want without facing the consequences. And now, what—you think you can get out of them because you might lose?” The irony in that statement, of course, being that Robin had now hit Graham in the jaw, who had paused to cradle his sore chin.

“But you have her now; doesn’t that count for anything?” Killian pleaded.

He realized as soon as he said it that he’d made a grave error. David stopped, taken aback. “How did you know that?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Killian didn’t take the time to answer; with any luck, that would be explained later. He jumped on the opportunity presented and dashed toward Robin and Graham again, pushing Robin away as he was about to make what would likely be the winning blow.

“Bloody hell, mate,” Robin sputtered, and Killian was about to reply, except he was suddenly face down on the pavement after something that felt vaguely like a foot hit him in the back.

“What game are you playing, Jones?” David yelled from above, giving Killian a good idea of who had attacked him. He was back on his feet in an instant, and so were the rest of the gangs, all around them. Fuck; so much for not bringing anyone else in.

It was Robin’s turn to step in front of Killian. “Are you trying to start a rumble, Nolan?”

“I didn’t start anything, but I will if that’s what you want.” Next to him, Graham pulled a suspiciously long, slender object from a pocket, and the subsequent swish of the weapon confirmed: he had a switchblade.

And a second later, Robin had pulled his own out.

They were immediately back on top of each other, with the others egging them on— “Right in the heart, Robin!” “Go for the neck, Graham!”

Killian’s lone attempt to pull Graham back (he was the closest to him at the time) ended with him also being pulled away by Jefferson; he and David restrained Killian and while he might have been able to shake off one of them, the two of them together were too much. He had to watch helplessly as the two in the center continued to swipe at each other, blades glinting dangerously in the murky streetlights.

It was still only until first blood, right? And that was bound to happen faster now that sharp edges were involved.

Almost in slow motion, he watched as the tip of Robin’s blade sliced at Graham’s cheek, leaving behind a thin line of red. He sighed in relief, little as he needed that breath; that was it—it was done.

David and Jefferson loosened their grip on him and he shook them off, not withholding a glare in David’s direction. He then turned to face Robin, to get him—all of them—out of there as quickly as possible, but his voice got stuck in his throat.

While Robin had barely relaxed, let down his guard for the briefest of seconds, Graham lunged at him and sank his blade into Robin’s chest.

Into Robin’s heart.

The world stood still for a moment as everyone stared in shock, and the reality of what just happened washed over Killian. It wasn’t until Graham jerked the blade free, dripping blood—Robin’s blood—on the ground, that he was jolted enough from his stupor to move.

“No!” Killian screamed, then ran to his friend just as he collapsed. “No, no, no,” he muttered, pressing a hand against Robin’s wound, but there was no use for it—a vampire was just as susceptible to that kind of stabbing as a mortal was.

Robin was gasping for air, useless as it was, as his lifeblood spilled out onto the asphalt below him, quite literally draining the life from him; little would be left in a few moments but ash and memories. If Killian could cry, he’d have been sobbing.

“Tell—tell ‘gina—” Robin stammered, but was quickly losing energy.

He knew what he was asking, anyways. “I’ll tell Regina,” he promised.

With his last bit of strength, Robin wrapped his hand around Killian’s and squeezed, smiling, as death finally came for him. It was fast—too fast, but wounds like that always led to a quick death. It wasn’t the first time Killian had held another person as they disintegrated in his hold, but it was by far the most painful. And the most unwarranted.

The dust that had been Robin settled in the air around him, landing on his hand where blood was still fresh. In more ways than one, Killian began to see red.

Without thinking, he grabbed Robin’s abandoned switchblade and in one swift moment, stood and shoved it at Graham, instinctively finding his most vulnerable spot.

Graham stammered back, pulling the weapon out—and hastening his own demise. All too quickly, he collapsed on his knees, his team gathering around him, and a moment later, he too was ash.

A sharp wind off the ocean blew Graham’s remains toward Killian, bringing with them the realization of what he had done:

He’d killed a member of Emma’s coven—practically her family.

And he’d done nothing to end the feud; if anything, he escalated it.

Bloody fuck, what had he done?

And what could he do now?

He stared in horror at the blood around him, trying to formulate a plan, when Will blessedly broke the fragile silence.

“Rozzers!” he shouted, then began to run, only to see no one else move. “Cops?” he translated into American English, which got the reaction he was looking for; everyone hopped to their feet and ran. No one wanted to explain this scene to mortal police.

Everyone but Killian. He wondered if his feet had become concrete, he was so rooted in place. It wasn’t until Will was in his face, urging him to move, that he did.

“Do you have somewhere to lay low? I don’t think Coroza is gonna let this one go,” he asked as they dashed from the lot.

His thoughts immediately turned to Emma, suicidal as that likely was. Could he drag her into this? Or would that be the least likely place they’d look?

He’d have to risk it. “Aye, I do.”

“Alright, then go; the less I know the better. Good luck, mate,” Will told him, then ran in another direction; belatedly, Killian realized, headed toward where Belle lived.

There was no time to dwell on that, though, and he changed course to head uptown. He had no idea what lay ahead, but he knew one thing: whatever it was, he wanted Emma at his side.

(Assuming, that is, she forgave him.)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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