HI! im ceecee! i love a lot of things and i love to write about them sometimes.
im mainly into hypmic, charisma house, ranger reject, tbhx, twst, genshin, and assorted horror games featuring end roll!
LOTS of other stuff too ehe
also,
my asks are open for writing requests or ideas!! im sooo bad at responding to them but i still appreciate them and i will write them if my brain cooperates ^^
also, the more detail the better! feel free to include as much as you want in your requests!
will write about:
~any of the above-listed fandoms (+ some additional ones not listed, you can message me if you're wondering about a specific media)
~x reader
~platonic stuffs
things i will not write about:
~anything nsfw
~character x character ships
thank u! <3
please don't feel shy or embarrassed to submit anything at all, I'm always so excited to see anything in my inbox <3
Hi hiiii! First, I just wanted to say that I find your writing so adorable! I recently found your blog and you have such a nice way of writing fluffy stories.
Would it be possible to write anything cute with platonic Georgina and a fem reader? I adore this woman and I think her (and all the moms tbh) deserve a bit more attention.
Honestly, just thanks for your time and the cute stories. I hope you have a wonderful day!
hi!!! thank you so much for the request, and I'm so happy you like my writing!! sorry it took me so long to get this done, I wanted to be sure I could characterize Georgina right. I'm still not sure I did but this was really fun to write! I hope you like it :D
~~~~~~
try something fun
You can feel Georgina staring at you.
She stands on the other side of the room, rummaging through the racks of clothes provided by the venue. Your arms are already full with her selections for Rook and Malleus, a mound of white and black that is somehow refusing to wrinkle. Now, you imagine, she’s looking for something that will suit Riddle.
So why is she looking at you?
You were happy to agree when Georgina insisted you accompany her into the venue to pick outfits for you and your friends, leaving Grim behind with the others. A break from him is always welcome, and it’s been a long time since you got to be with a girl. Your school is nice, and the people are nice, but sometimes you feel very alone among all the boys.
Georgina pulls a suit from the rack, giving it a quick once-over before nodding approvingly.
“Why, this will work rather well for Riddle,” she says. “Don’t you agree?”
You blink at the suit in front of you. Somehow, as with the rest of the outfits, she’s hit upon something that suits him perfectly.
“Yeah,” you say, “definitely. I think the red will go really well with his hair.”
She beams, crossing towards you to lay the suit over the rest in your arms. She towers over you even more than her sons (and that’s definitely saying something) but you feel much less wary in her presence. You find yourself smiling back at her, imitating her wide grin.
“Now,” Georgina says, clapping her hands, “we need to find something for you. I did enjoy choosing these outfits for the others, but I want to pick something extra-special for you. I’m certain we can put together a lovely outfit.”
She disappears into the clothes again before you can blink. The stack of the others’ outfits weighs heavy in your arms, and you shift it, feeling vaguely nervous. What does Georgina consider extra-special? You haven’t had the best track record with things Floyd calls special (getting to watch him at basketball club, during which Ace went “This is for you!” before failing spectacularly at making a basket, and Floyd dribbled a ball off the court and into your shins), or Jade, for that matter (getting to try a dish he made with a rare mushroom, which he only thought to mention was vaguely poisonous after you’d tried it), so you find your mind running off to the worst possible scenarios for Georgina’s plan.
She peeks out from the racks of clothes, tilting her head so far you’re scared her hat will fall off.
“What size are you, dear?”
You blink. “I’m, uh… I don’t know if your sizing is different here.”
She waves a hand as she turns back to the clothes.
“Yes, human sizing is quite complicated. I certainly had a hard time figuring out what size I was when I first came on land.”
“Well, I think you’ve figured it out. Your clothes seem to fit you really well,” you tell her, because they do.
Georgina beams. “Oh, thank you. Now, let’s see… I think I can tell what size you are after all. Why don’t we try this one?”
She pulls out something rather fluffy, such a mess of fabric that you can’t even tell where your head would go in it. It’s… very different than what she’s picked for the others. And… not a color you typically think works on you.
Georgina must be able to read the look on your face, because she laughs, gathering the item further into her arms as she strides back towards you.
“Goodness, is it that bad? I thought you might look positively darling in something like this, but…”
She holds it up, and you both stare at it for a moment.
“It’s… really big?” you try. “I think I might disappear into it.”
She laughs again, placing one hand on her chest. “Oh my, what a sight that would be. I promise I have something safe picked out for you, too. I’m certain you’ll love that one. In the meantime, though, Jade and your friends don’t know how long we’ll be taking.”
She holds it towards you for you to take.
“Might as well make the most of the chance, hm? Try on something fun?”
You try to picture yourself in the thing in front of you. You look like a cupcake. A really, really, fluffy cupcake. With your head as the cherry on top.
“Sure,” you say, “why not? Just for fun.”
Georgina lights up. “Oh, wonderful! Maybe you’ll even find something you love, even if it’s just for fun.”
She takes the clothes you’re holding, trading them for what she has, and indicates a door leading off of the room.
“You can try it on in there,” she says. “I’ll go pick something else fun.”
You don’t even bother trying to picture what she’ll find next. You can barely picture what you’ll look like in this first thing. Instead, you go where she pointed, finding what seems to be a small storage room.
At least it has a mirror.
~~~~~~
Okay, you were wrong. This weird dress thing doesn’t make you look like a cupcake. Not even close.
You’re a cake if you’ve ever seen one.
Your head is barely visible, but it’s manageable. As long as you make sure none of the fluff gets in your mouth and blocks your airway, your only concern should be making it out of the door.
You eye the door back to where Georgina waits, which you walked through so easily mere moments ago. Yeah, you’re definitely wider than it right now. The only question is how much this thing will squish… only one way to find out, right?
You reach through what feels like yards of fabric to reach the door knob, unlocking it and swinging it open.
Georgina is standing not far away, holding something else (is that fringe on it?), waiting patiently. At least you imagine she was, because as soon as she sees you, her face splits into a grin and she laughs.
“Oh my goodness, that’s… quite something, isn’t it?”
“It’s… something, yeah,” you say. You find yourself laughing with her, remembering the sight of yourself in the mirror.
Georgina falls silent abruptly, placing a hand on her chin.
“It’s certainly unusual, but I thought maybe you could pull it off, if anyone…”
She sighs, seeming disappointed. “Oh, well. I suppose that one’s a no, hm?”
You nod, or at least try to. “I think it’s a little much for a wedding, too.”
“It is fun, though,” she says, and you can’t help but agree. You can’t remember the last time you looked this ridiculous. Not that you have much time to look at yourself these days, anyway, between taking care of Grim and dealing with Crowley’s nonsense, not to mention the way they always seem to make you take care of these overblots. Like you know anything about that.
“It feels good to laugh,” you tell Georgina. She seems pleased.
“I have a good feeling about this one,” she says, pressing what she’s holding into your arms. It unfolds into some sort of fringed shirt and hat. You blink at them.
“Is this… a cowgirl outfit?”
“What’s a cowgirl?” Georgina asks, tilting her head.
“It’s… nevermind.”
You’re not even going to bother trying to explain that to her, though you’re not sure if this is a gap in her knowledge of the land world or just something that doesn’t exist here.
~~~~~~
Well, even if they don’t have cowgirls here, they certainly make cowgirl outfits, complete with chaps and a lasso.
You stare at yourself in the mirror, feeling an odd wave of homesickness. Of all things to make you think of the world you came from (the world you belong in), a cowgirl outfit?
You give yourself a good shake to clear your head. Now is not the time. Georgina is waiting.
This time you don’t need to wonder if you’ll be able to make it through the doorway, at least. The hat does make you a little taller, but nowhere near enough to hit the doorframe.
Georgina is right outside again, arms empty this time. She lights up when she sees you, reaching out to adjust your hat.
“Why, that looks rather fetching on you,” she says. “Maybe I should add a hat to your real outfit…”
“So we’d match?” you ask. You always end up matching with Grim. It’d be an honor to match with Georgina.
She blinks, like she hadn’t thought of that. “That’d be lovely. I’m not sure I saw any good hats, though… I’ll need to check while you get dressed. If I know my son - and I do - he’ll be getting rather impatient by this point. It’ll be just about time to wrap this up.”
From atop the pile of your friends’ clothes, sitting where Georgina’s set it on a chair, she grabs something that looks rather elegant. You don’t get much of a chance to look at it before it’s in your arms and she’s urging you back into the mock changing room.
“I’m quite excited to see this one,” she says. “I’m certain it will be perfect on you.”
~~~~~~
Georgina was right. Somehow she’s always been right.
You smooth down the outfit in the mirror. You hardly recognize yourself - or maybe you’ve hardly been yourself these past few months. How did she pick something that suits you so perfectly after such a short time together?
This time when you open the door, Georgina’s even closer. She greets you right in the doorway by setting a hat down on your head. For a moment it obscures your vision of her, but when you finally manage to look up she’s smiling softer than she was with any of the other outfits.
“It’s perfect,” she tells you. “Go look.”
She follows you to the mirror, lingering just over your shoulder as you stare at yourself. How did she find the perfect hat? It works with your complexion, it’s the most comfortable thing you’ve ever worn, and it ties an already-perfect outfit together.
“You’re incredible,” you tell her. “This is perfect. How do you have such good fashion sense?”
Georgina leans down closer to you, making eye contact in the mirror. She’s beaming.
“I told you,” she says, “I had to do something special for you. My sons speak so highly of you, and it’s not often they agree on something like that. So, of course, I had to make sure you were happy. And I must say, I agree with them too.”
She places one hand on each of your shoulders.
“Anytime you need something,” she tells you, “just give me a call. The Leech family will always have your back.”
You blink, feeling a vague tightness in the back of your throat. Crowley’s supposed to have your back, but he never means anything he says. You can tell Georgina means it.
“You don’t know,” you tell her, “how much that means to me.”
She laughs. “I can imagine. I’ve met your headmaster a few times myself.”
Georgina leaves you to imagine what Crowley did those few times, exiting the small room to pick up the things she’s picked out for the others. You follow behind, trying to keep your clothes nice.
She pauses in front of the door, behind which waits Grim and your friends.
“Are you ready?” she asks you.
You nod before you have the chance to talk yourself out of it. Your only hope is Grim hasn’t gotten his paws too dirty, otherwise he’s going to be leaving little marks when he inevitably jumps on you. You don’t want to mess up your outfit.
Georgina seems to see the hesitation on your face, even though you’ve already nodded yes. She smiles at you encouragingly.
“You’re going to be fine,” she tells you.
For the first time in a long while, you almost believe it.
I think more people who like Defunctland should also listen to the Where We Parked podcast so the people who know him as a serious documentarian with a dry sense of humor can listen to him and his friends do an elaborate bit about a deeply immersive roleplaying 50’s Dinner that features a tired mother and a adulterous angry father who yells at you if you order the wrong food item that somehow leads to Walt Disney getting stuck in modern day Disneyland and living on the streets of Galaxy’s Edge
when i read my own writing all i can think about is how genuinely amateurish and unskilled it is. and anytime i read actually good writing all i can think is how bad my own writing is. writing is a skill and a talent and u have to work and hone it and get better but i literally have no idea how to get better. plus im too ashamed to let anyone irl read my writing so i wont go to a writing class and i dont know if doing one online would help and i hear "write every day that will make u better" but i dont understand how that will make me better. like with drawing and cosplay and music, i understand how practice will make u better. but if i keep putting the same bad words in the same bad order i will just get worse and worse
genau instantly became my #1 favorite frieren character as well as one of my favorite characters ever, in general. sorry if this doesn't characterize him well, it's kind of self-indulgent. i found his relationship with his partner to be so sickening and so moving and it made me feel so so many things, so i tried to get some of it down in a fic! hope u like!
/////////////////////////
he was the stupidest man genau had ever met.
and genau had known his share of fools.
the baker’s son, for example, kneading dough with his small, inexperienced hands. he proudly told genau that one day, his bread would be the best this town had ever tasted. but it had never gotten much better than those first dry, crumbly loaves.
or the hopeful mage who had paired off with genau when he took his first-class exam. genau told him that he didn’t need any help, but the mage wouldn’t stop following him. genau supposed he was too nervous to do anything on his own. he had bright eyes and a quiet voice. he didn’t pass.
genau had known his share of fools.
but the stupidest person he had ever known was his partner.
he was an idiot, and it had gotten him killed.
he was laid in a coffin, in a bed of flowers. white, and purple. they looked soft. comfortable to rest in.
his pale face was calm. his hands were folded gently on his chest.
he could be sleeping.
serie’s words were still ringing in genau’s ears. “he was too kind,” she had said, rolling a flower between her fingers. “kind mages don’t live long.”
he was too kind. kind to a fault.
genau’s partner - he seemed reluctant to think of his name, though he couldn't understand why - was the kindest man he had ever known.
no one else had ever even come close.
not the baker’s son with his toothy smile and his misshapen loaves; not the mage who had tripped over tree roots behind genau. no one else had ever come close.
that man radiated light. he was as warm as a portable heater, or a small sun you could pull to your side.
genau stared down at his body.
he looked so cold.
serie had left the room. no one was here to witness him.
genau briefly considered kneeling by the coffin, and taking a flower from next to his body. he considered crushing it, feeling the petals morph to the shape of his hand. then he would drop his head against the edge of the coffin. he would sit there, his knees cramped. his hand would find his partner’s, his partner’s hands, limp and loose and folded together. he would wrap his fingers around his, and then he would curse him. he would curse him for saving that child.
he must have known the price he would pay. the strength of that demon. the child had no power to continue protecting the village. his own life was inherently more valuable.
but of course he would not place himself over anyone, or anything. that man would give his own life for a pigeon.
genau considered squeezing his partner’s hand so hard that he felt his fingers splinter, and then hastily pressing his hands back onto his chest. folding the fingers again. letting his palms linger for a moment.
he considered staring down into his bloodless, silent face, and desperately passing the back of his hand over his forehead. he considered muttering a spell, any spell, all spells he could think of. he considered clasping his hands together, knelt besides the coffin, and whispering any spell he could think of. until the sweat ran down into his trembling lips. until his legs ached and creaked when he straightened up.
he would stand over the coffin, and stare down at his partner, and wipe the sweat from his forehead. he would press his face into his hands, and he would turn away.
of course, genau had no reason to do any of this. he was not a man given to emotion. or kindness.
he merely stared down at the body, and held a curse within his mouth.
“you should not have saved the child,” he whispered. “you should not have. why do you do such foolish things?”
speaking those words felt like he had hooked his hands into the center of his ribcage and torn himself open. he shut his mouth again, and bowed his head.
that man was kind, too kind. he had a smile and a good word for everyone.
even genau. even cold, cruel, selfish genau.
he had told him, once, that he should not say these things to him.
“you are too kind to me,” he said, “and i don’t deserve your words.”
“hm?” he blinked, and turned his bright face towards genau.
genau looked away, into the blazing fire. it hurt his eyes less.
“you call me noble,” he said. “you say that you wish to be more like me. but i am only doing my job. i am only doing what i must. you should not praise me for this.”
“oh, genau,” he said, a slight edge to his voice. “i’ve never met anyone who does their duty as well as you. no one is as devoted, or responsible, or hard-working!”
“stop,” genau said. “this is exactly what i’m talking about.”
his partner shook his head. “you’re just stuck in your own head. trust me.”
genau stared at him.
his partner smiled.
genau stared.
he was too kind. kind mages don’t live long.
kind mages don’t live long.
genau supposed he would live a long life, then. he was the furthest thing from kind.
he stared down at his partner’s cold, quiet face, and opened his ribs up one more time.
“i should be lying there,” he whispered. “not you.”
he felt the smallest twinge of guilt, of pain - at least what he supposed this would feel like - and then it was gone. genau felt empty once more.
empty. empty.
he stretched his hands out before him, and studied their steady outline against his partner’s shape.
should a mage so cold really be allowed to live? should a mage so warm really be forced to die?
genau shut his eyes, and murmured a prayer of mourning. it was simple. detached. nothing too emotional. his partner was gone, now. it was time to let him go.
i just saw a tweet mentioning "writers who are good but not great" and i felt so seen... i have such a layered and agonized relationship with writing and "a writer who is good but not great" feels like it cuts right to the heart of it. ive spent my entire life being told that im good at writing, so i have to begrudgingly acknowledge that i must have some skill, but all i can see is my flaws and failures. the internet is full of such beautifully crafted fanfics, and every time i open ao3 i am smacked in the face by how mediocre of a writer i am. i will read fics with perfect word choices and vivid imagery, fics with characters that are so clearly living and breathing in the words, and then i will look back on my own writing and feel so filled with shame. i don't write well, and i mean it; but i am forced to acknowledge that i do, because i have been told it my whole life. but i don't write well. everyone else does. i can't name a single fic I've read without thinking "they are so much better than me." and its exhausting and devastating because writing is, quite literally, the only thing that i have. and i am not even good at it.
(and yet, i am forced to acknowledge that i must be.)
i don't even understand how to get better at writing. so everyone else will just keep getting better and better, and i will stay at my fourteen-year-old skill level.
i am a writer who is "good," but never ever "great."
Hello, sorry for the random asks but I do have some if you don't mind bc it's always so fun to read when you answer asks;;;; But if you want to skip some that's totally fine!;;
1- What will land each Hypmic character in jail* and why? (*as an inmate) Also how long will they be there before they decide to break out?
2- What will land each of them in hospital* and why? (*as a patient) Also how long will they be there before they decide to break out?
3- What name would they give to their pet cat, and out of curiosity, who do you see will be the best and worst cat dad?
4- What would happen if for some reason they're all stranded on an island while Riou could only give survival tips to them remotely? Will Riou trust any of them to follow his directions to a T?
5- What advice would they give to Doppo about what to do with his manager?
Thank you so much;;;
Hi there! What a fun ask. I'd love to do all of these, especially since it's been so long since I've done something like this, but in the interest of not writing the longest response in the world, I'm just going to do #4. Assume each is marooned individually and has a radio that connects them to Riou.
Ichirou: Physically capable of survival but, in the absence of anime and manga, would be white-knuckling it the whole time. Asks Riou to read the latest One Piece chapters out loud to him while he's cutting down palm trees to build a raft. Names the island Hiphoppia. Asks Riou again to put Jirou and Saburou on the radio so he can 1) tell his bros he loves and misses them 2) tell them to knock it off because he can sense them fighting from here.
Jirou: Enjoys himself for about six hours splashing around in the ocean and climbing palm trees before the panic sets in. Finds a source of fresh water and some food and calms down. Makes a soccer net out of vines and tries to kick a coconut into it, breaking his foot. Befriends a school of dolphins and rides them back to Tokyo where he's met by a wildly panicked Ichirou and Saburou.
Ichirou: We thought you were dead! Riou kept trying to reach you on the radio, but you never responded!
Jirou: What radio?
Saburou: Oh he's dying out there. :( Poor kid. Jk, he'd conserve his battery, wait until nightfall, and use an astronomy app on his phone (he has a telescope in his room, so he has some canonical interest in this) to determine his exact location and call for help. Is the fastest to get off his respective island but spends the entire next week sulking because he got a bad sunburn.
Samatoki: Spends the first hour furious about getting stuck in this situation. Spends the second hour furious about all the god damn bugs. Spends the third hour furious at Juuto (who drove over to Riou's campsite just to goad Samatoki via radio). Finally calms down, albeit with spurts of further grumbling, and begins to follow Riou's orders. Makes a surprisingly good stew out of bugs and a kind of wild bell pepper but refuses to eat it on principle. Is unable to provide any information about his location ("Where am I? How the fuck would I know?") and is only picked up when the coast guard eventually stumbles upon him.
Juuto: Disgusted by the lack of amenities on the island. How is he supposed to sleep without his silk sheets and six pairs of spare glasses? Works off some of his aggression by yelling at Samatoki (who drove over to Riou's campsite just to goad Juuto via radio). Follows Riou's instructions because he isn't an idiot, unlike someone (that asshole on the radio), and is rescued in short order.
Riou: Is amazed to find he's being radioed by a second, identical Riou, but his confusion quickly turns to delight when he discovers this other Riou knows different recipes. Swaps recipes with homeland!Riou while building a glorious base camp. Survives for several weeks with no issue and invites homeland!Riou over for a cookout. Is invited to have dinner with homeland!Riou and the boys, swims back to Yokohama, and confuses the hell out of Samatoki and Juuto by showing up with a seaweed and sea urchin bouillabaisse.
Island!Riou: I don't see what's so strange.
Homeland!Riou: Nor do I.
Samatoki: Isn't it fucking obvious?
Island!Riou: Oh, I see... You're right.
Island!Riou: :) Bouillabaisse is typically made with rock fish, but provided you have the right spices, any seafood wor--
Juuto: Riou, for the love of god.
Both Rious: For the love of god what?
Ramuda: Oh, he's dead dead. Even if he were to listen to Riou and be physically capable of building shelter and finding food/water (which is already dubious), he doesn't have his medication. Gentarou and Dice will be losing their minds (they know what's going on because Riou contacted Dice) until Jakurai gets word of Ramuda a) stranded and b) in need of medical attention, whereupon his savior complex kicks in so hard he physically manifests on the island...and is now stranded too. Ramuda is pissed at Jakurai until Gentarou, Dice, Hifumi, and Doppo rent a boat and go find them.
Gentarou: Doesn't need Riou's advice because he's read 3 bajillion British castaway adventure stories. Is disappointed that he can't actually befriend a boar and make it his pet like in Gordan Korman's Island series. (Anyone else read that as a kid?) Tries to weave a mat out of reeds and fails due to poor dexterity. Wishes that Ramuda was there to do it for him. Takes way too long to get rescued because no one takes a "Help, I'm stuck on a deserted island!" message from Gentarou seriously.
Dice: If it was anyone but Riou on the radio, I think Dice might actually die because he's allergic to doing what he's told. But he and Riou are homies, so he's got a chance. Goes into the jungle to collect firewood and gets chased by a boar. Climbs a palm tree to collect coconuts and is chased by a seagull. Wades into the ocean to fish and is chased by a crab. Is rescued when the writers have had enough of making him the butt of the joke (which is to say, never).
Jakurai: Just turns into this:
Hifumi: Would panic until the thought of "What would Doppo do?" (also panic) convinces him to put a positive spin on it. Catches a twenty-foot tuna against all odds and whips up some amazing, just life-changing survival sashimi. Stays on the island far longer than he needs to because he and Riou are having such a blast sourcing ingredients not local to Japan and running culinary experiments. Is eventually tracked down by a pack of his most loyal customers, whose fangirl senses allow them to pinpoint Hifumi perfectly anywhere within a 100km radius.
Doppo: Panics until he realizes this means he doesn't have to go into work tomorrow, an immensely cheering thought. Tries following Riou's instructions but gets very confused (first, find a sharp stone to act as a rudimentary adze or mattock? A what or a what???) and panics again. Almost gives in to despair until the thought of staying strong for Hifumi convinces him to keep going. Wishes Jakurai were here to help him ID which fish are poisonous and which are safe to eat. Is rescued a little sun-burnt and dehydrated but is ultimately fine.
Sasara: Is just furious there isn't a camera crew with him. "We stranded this comedian on a deserted island!" Can you imagine the ratings??? Uses the last of his phone battery to record a video for YouTube. When it dies, stands alone in silence for about two minutes before, unable to sit with himself any further, starts chatting up Riou on the radio. Can't stop making terrible puns to defuse the tense situation (ie, his impending death on a deserted island). Is found and rescued by Rei in a military-grade helicopter. What Rei is doing with a helicopter is never mentioned again. Afterward, drives Roshou up the wall for a week straight going, "Whale, whale, whale! Isle be damned!"
Roshou: Has a panic attack (Riou's like " :( I'd make you calming tea if I were there.") which only ends when he thinks of his students. He has to survive...for them! (And also those two bozos probably breaking into his apartment and eating his snacks this very moment.) Uses his knowledge of geometry to construct a suitable shelter and a raft with a sail. Makes it home on the raft, much to the bozos' surprise. Says it's because he's always been Under Sail, but this joke is too meta for anyone but Sasara to find it funny.
Rei: Actually, the island has been home to his underground lab all this time, where he is currently developing a bioweapon that Otome will use to usher in a new age of naval warfare. An intelligent freshwater fish whose raps target the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems, the Hypnosis Pike--
Kuukou: Has the time of his life. Finds a waterfall at Riou's urging (a source of fresh, running water is crucial) and sits under it for ten hours at a time just because. Finds a bear (food source?) and wrestles with it because he can. Has to be dragged home kicking and screaming by his very peeved father and Hitoya because he doesn't want to leave.
Juushi: Oh baby boy :( I feel so bad for him. Can we put Kuukou back on the island instead? I think it's for the best.
Hitoya: There are two things he hates: One, leftover takeout. Two, being stranded on a fucking island with some madman on the radio telling him he's got to build a shelter with his bare hands, driftwood, and vines. What is he, some kind of caveman? Eventually swallows his pride and tries to follow Riou's orders but is just miserable the whole time. Comes down with an illness from eating a strange fish but is able to use his years of medical school knowledge to nurse himself back to health. Upon returning home, cries and hugs his collection of Islay whiskies (also Kuukou and Juushi, the latter of whom is crying too).
Leona Kingscholar knows when to give up, and he's given up on you.
He watches you talking to your friends across the courtyard. The redhead says something and you laugh, the sound carrying over. Leona scowls.
Ruggie notices and tugs at his arm.
“Leona, come on, you’re gonna make us both late. We’re making potions out of food in my next class, and I bet I can convince Professor Crewel to give me the leftovers.”
He grins, showing his teeth, and Leona lets himself be pulled down the hallway. He glances your way once more, and is startled to find you looking back at him. Your eyes widen and you turn away, ducking your head, but Leona can't take his eyes off of you, and he almost stumbles over a crack in the ground. Ruggie stops and stares at him.
“Leona…? Did you… just trip?”
Leona glares at him, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest.
“I wouldn’t be tripping over anything if that Headmage maintained the grounds like he’s supposed to,” he growls. “What’s he even using our families’ donations for?”
Leona stalks ahead of Ruggie, sneaking another look in your direction once he’s caught up. You’re gone from view. He pretends it doesn’t disappoint him.
~~~~~
Leona catches himself thinking about you, later that day.
He’s in a new spot under a tree in the greenhouse bushes, somewhere Ruggie might not think to check when he realizes Leona’s trying to skip class. The sound of your laugh is rolling around in his head, distracting him from his nap.
It’s not like you were even laughing at him. It was Ace, as always. So why can’t he get it out of his head?
He turns over in the grass, only to find himself face to face with you - wide-eyed, hair full of leaves, crawling through the foliage on your hands and feet.
“Oh,” you say, “hi. Um. Have you seen Grim?”
Leona stares at a particularly leafy patch of your hair.
“You’re crawling around in here for that stupid cat?”
You frown at him. He’s distracted by the flush in your cheeks.
“He’s not stupid. And besides, I’m his prefect. I’m responsible for him, so if something happens, Crowley’s going to get on my case about it. And goodness knows something’s going to happen if I’m not with him,” you say.
You pull your legs up and sit next to him, resting your face in your hands with a huff. “Why can’t he just behave?”
Leona watches you breathe, watches the flush of exertion fade from your face. You lean your head back against the tree and smile towards him.
“It really is nice in here,” you say. “I can see why you like it.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, is someone tempted to stay here and skip class with me? I thought you were a better student than that.”
He means it as a joke, a reminder that it’s still the middle of the school day. He doesn’t dare to think you’ll actually skip class with him. After all, you have class with Ace.
Instead of hurrying away to make it to your next class before it starts, though, or scolding him for skipping, you bury your face in your hands.
“My next class is Practical Magic,” you manage. You almost sound like you’re crying. “I can’t do anything in it without Grim. I’m only half a student, anyway.”
Leona doesn’t like it when people cry around him, or put themselves down. Especially not you.
He props himself up on one elbow and reaches towards you. He wants to touch your face and tell you what he thinks of you. That as much as he tries to deny it, his heart skips a beat when you smile at him, and he’s never dared to think of someone as much as he thinks of you. That you’re a whole student, a whole person, with or without Grim.
But he can’t say any of that, so he just brushes a few leaves out of your hair. You look up, eyes vaguely rimmed with red.
“Thanks,” you say, “I have no idea how so many leaves ended up in my hair. It’s ridiculous, right?”
Leona smirks. “The trick is to not crawl around under a buncha trees.”
“Well, some of us have responsibilities we need to fulfill. And I don’t have a Ruggie to push stuff onto,” you say. You move as if to stand up, but Leona gets there first, holding a hand out to help you up. You blink at him.
“What -”
“I’ll help you look,” he interrupts. “I know a thing or two about wrangling dorm-mates.”
Your face softens, and you reach up and take his hand. Even through his gloves, he can feel your warmth. He shivers.
“That’d be great,” you say, hopping to your feet, “but I really don’t know where else he could be.”
“You asked those friends of yours yet?” Leona asks. “That Ace, and, uh… the other one.”
“Deuce?” you fill in. “No, I figured if I didn’t know where Grim was, they wouldn’t either.”
“Well, you’re all practically joined at the hip. He probably can’t tell you all apart. Come on, let’s go ask them,” Leona says, walking away without checking if you’re following. Before long, he can hear your footsteps on the path behind him.
“We’re not,” you insist, once you’ve fallen into step next to him.
He raises an eyebrow. “Not what?”
“Not joined at the hip. Me and Ace and Deuce, we’re not joined at the hip.”
Leona eyes you as he pushes open the door of the greenhouse. “You’re being pretty defensive about this, herbivore,” he teases.
You blush as you follow him outside, the sunlight painting your face an intoxicating color. He forces himself to stop looking.
“I just… don’t want you to think that’s all there is to me. That I don’t have a life outside of them. Does that make sense? I feel like that doesn’t make sense,” you say. You’re not looking at him either. Leona pretends it’s because you care what he thinks of you.
He’s just about to ask where you think your friends could be, when he hears a voice that grates on his nerves in an all-too-familiar way. Ace.
Leona fixes his face into a neutral expression before looking around for the boy - and the other, who’s surely with him. He finds them walking down the pathway towards you both.
You follow his gaze, and your face lights up at the sight of your friends, spawning an uncomfortable pit in Leona’s stomach. You grab his wrist and tug him towards them.
“C’mon, let’s go see if they’ve seen Grim!”
He follows you (what else is he supposed to do?), trying to fight the scowl creeping onto his face. He know he doesn’t have a chance with you, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be reminded. You grin at Deuce and a little bit more at Ace, more than Leona’s ever seen you smile in his own direction.
“Hey, guys!” you call. “What’s up?”
Ace’s eyes flick to Leona standing behind you for a moment before he says, “Nah, nothing. Just heading to class. What’s up with you, Prefect?”
You sigh, shifting your body a little closer to Ace. You’re still holding Leona’s wrist, but he’s sure you’ve just forgotten to let it go. You’re not holding it because you want to.
“It’s Grim,” you say, exasperated. “He snuck away from me after our last class and I can’t find him. He’s definitely off somewhere getting up to no good. So I wanted to ask if you guys have seen him?”
Deuce nods, eyes sparkling as he leans forward. Ace leans in too, forming the three of you into a comfortable triangle. Leona doesn’t think you’re doing it on purpose, but that makes his exclusion from the conversation almost feel worse.
“Yeah, we just saw him, actually. Just over there. He was trying to catch a butterfly in the courtyard, and Ace said -”
Ace elbows Deuce hard in the ribs before he can finish. “I said,” he continues, “that it was weird you weren’t with him, Prefect. If we’d known, I could’ve caught him for ya.”
You wave a hand. “Oh, no, it’s fine. Just knowing you saw him is a huge help.”
Ace shrugs, the tips of his ears dusting pink. “Anything for you, Prefect! Here, I’ll take you there. Besides, Leona-senpai probably has a class to get to anyway, right? You shouldn’t keep bothering him.”
Leona expects you to let go of his wrist now. Maybe take Ace’s hand instead, or link arms with him and Deuce and skip off towards the courtyard, leaving him to return to his nap. Instead your grip on him tightens.
“No,” you say. “Leona said he’d help me find Grim, so he’s going to help me find Grim. You guys can go ahead to class. We’ll go check the courtyard.”
Ace and Deuce blink at you, faces as surprised as Leona feels.
“O-okay,” Deuce says, “sure. Finish fast so you can make it to class on time, okay?”
You nod, hand still tight around Leona’s wrist as you pull him past your friends and towards the courtyard. He’s sure you can feel his heartbeat thrumming through his veins.
Leona tugs you to a halt around halfway to your destination. He shouldn’t even bother asking you this - he’s sure there’s a boring answer, nothing like what he’s imagining. But the question is burning a hole in his mind, and if he doesn’t ask you now, it’ll haunt him the rest of his days.
“Oi, herbivore. Why didn’t you want to go with your friends?” he asks.
You stare up at Leona, fingers shifting against his wrist.
“Well, I just - you said you’d help me find Grim.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you were so sad and alone. But when your friends are offering, you have no reason to accept my help over theirs, right?”
Except for that reason. The one he’d like to pretend doesn’t exist, the one he isn’t even bothering to hope is true. But he needs to ask.
You only hold his gaze for a few more moments before your eyes drop to the floor.
“I mean, it’s not like I had a real reason. Just more of a… feeling.”
“A feeling?” His feelings are all traveling through his bloodstream, perilously close to you. Your hand is warm against his wrist.
“Since I don’t normally get to talk to you, I kind of just wanted to spend some more time with you,” you say. You sneak a glance up at Leona.
He hopes his expression is unreadable. He’s not sure it is.
“Oh,” he says. “Spend time with me? Over time with Ace?”
You nod. “Yeah, I just… yeah. Between you and me, I think Ace kind of has a crush on me. And then Deuce is just super oblivious to it, and Grim is so loud, and sometimes I just need a break.”
You sneak another glance at him, pulling him along as you start walking again.
“And I like your company,” you finish. “It’s easy.”
Leona can’t help it. He laughs, somewhere deep in his throat, and speeds up so you're walking side-by-side, deciding not to notice the way your hand tightens a little on his wrist.
“I always got the impression you had a crush on Ace,” he tells you.
You blink and laugh a little. “Me? No, I - I mean, there’s nothing wrong with Ace, he’s very nice, it’s just that I - well, I like someone else.”
It hovers in the air between you for a moment, like a secret shared between friends in the dead of night. Like a hummingbird drinking from a flower.
Leona doesn’t ask who it is. He doesn’t feel the need to. Your fingers are tight on his wrist and if you don’t like Ace, that means he still has a chance. All he needs is a fighting chance.
You don’t let go of him when you reach the courtyard, when you see Grim holding a butterfly in-between his paws, seemingly at a loss for what to do with it, or when you pick him up with one arm and say, “Well, we should probably head to our next class.”
His heartbeat is dancing underneath your palm. Your fingers are warm against his wrist. He doesn’t want you to let go.
You stand together for another moment, Grim squirming in your arms, the wind rustling through the trees. Leona can hear his heart pounding in his ears. Finally you exhale and unwrap your hand from his wrist.
“I guess this is it. Until next time,” you say.
Leona leans towards you, wrist feeling cold.
“That a promise, herbivore? You know where to find me next time you need a break from those friends of yours.”
“Okay,” you say, face breaking into a grin, “yeah, sure. Um. That’d be nice. Thanks, Leona. For helping me find Grim and everything.”
“Yeah,” he says, “anytime.”
The image of you smiling at him burns itself into his brain. He’s still seeing it after you’re gone from view, after the bell rings for the next class. He pictures you at your Practical Magic class, sitting next to Ace and next to Deuce, smiling at them. The image doesn’t bother him. Because next time you get tired of them, you’re going to come find him.
