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About Traditional Art / Hobbyist ClaireFemale/United States Group :iconkydrae-united: KydRae-United
When opposites dont attract
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Snow White knew she had once had a charmed life. She had had Father, who had loved her dearly and always gave her sheeny ribbons for her hair and held her in his lap whenever she wished. He read her fables to teach her lessons about life, "for when you're a big girl", even though she ran her fingers over the rich pictures more often than she listened. He tolerated her when she begged to go with him to speeches and Important King Things, and kindly explained that she was just too little. And even on days when he was busy in conferences all day and came out pallid and with all the mysterious worries Snow White didn't understand gathering in swollen bags beneath his eyes, he managed to come tuck her in for bed.

When she was older, she wondered if he was trying to make up the lack of a mother. Mother had died soon after Snow was born, but she had never felt any particular pain at her absence. Father was enough for her, and she wasn't really sure what she could be missing.

It seemed to her that he had been the best father ever, although lying on her cot at night she wondered fleetingly whether or not death had a way of making things seem sweeter. But there was no real point in wondering those things, so even though she wondered about a lot, she didn't wonder too long about that.

At any rate, it wouldn't do much good to try and remember whether Father had really been the best father ever. The time before daily chores, when her life had been charmed, seemed very distant and unreal, like a daydream dreamed in the hazy heat of summer. It was a time that spanned only the first five years of her life, before her father had washed up from the river.

Father's death was a period that was fragmentary and unclear in her mind. Men and women in dark fabrics. Sometimes with crowns on their heads. Sometimes with foreign accents on their tongues. There were fingers with winking opal rings and throats with smiling diamond collars and hands with expensive creams and royal lips with "Sorry, we are so sorry for your loss, your Highness,"

There was the wire-hanger grip of her nails on Snow White's shoulders."Yes...the king and I were only married for two months before his untimely death...poor man, it's been so painful...yes, the kingdom is now mine and so is this poor little dear, the princess..."

Snow had been mostly left alone to wonder around the castle in the days following the king's death. She had been confused. She hadn't understood why she couldn't see Father anymore, but she managed a bewildered five-year-old acceptance. Every room in the castle was dark and heavy, and everyone moved like dazed specters. They gave Snow White pitying, sodden smiles whenever they saw her, but they couldn't seem to say anything.

Snow White could remember tall men in uniforms standing around, drinking glasses of dark liquid and conversing in melancholy tones. They all had ashy indigo curls beneath their eyes and steely stubble on their cheeks. Some of them she recognized as her father's advisers. At times they gave her a pat on the head or two, but for the most part they were caught up in a fog of whispers: "'Awful that he's dead … can't imagine what made him … He left the Queen full control of the kingdom … God, I can't think why he married her … the public doesn't like her, and she doesn't like us… His Highness worked so hard to make his kingdom strong, but with her in control ... she'll get rid of us, and we won't be able to carry on His Highness's vision at all … Power-hungry, she is … it almost makes you wonder if she ..."

And the servants whispered, too, their eyes rimmed pink and their voices hurried. "It's awful, it is … He was a good man to us, and now he's gone and drowned 'imself in the river … I don't understand why … Well, he was never quite the same after his dear wife passed … Yes, but he wasn't the type, he wouldn' leave that sweet, pretty little daughter of his; he loved her so … I saw the king just before he jumped, I did, an' he looked so strange, like under a witch's spell, an enchantment … Don't be silly, Magda ..."

But their voices shut off as soon as they noticed Snow listening, pale and silent and not understanding at all.

The unfamiliar dignitaries, the former advisers, and the somber gossip all disappeared soon after her father's coffin descended into the ground. She remembered standing hesitantly in the doorway of the Queen's bedroom the night after the funeral, watching her as she sat in her chair and gazed into the flames that writhed in the fireplace. Her face looked like it was built of bone china. Beautiful and aristocratic, but not very welcoming. All the same...she was the woman Father had chosen to marry, even if had only lasted two months. She was Snow White's stepmother. Mother. Snow White had always been just fine without her own mother. But then she wondered what it would be like to have one. It could be alright, maybe.

She'd quietly attempted to slip into her stepmother's lap, and promptly found herself shoved to the floor.

"Snow White," the Queen said, as if coming around to a decision she'd been turning over in her head. "You're going to sleep in the servants' quarters from now on."

"Why...why, Moth-?"

"Don't call me 'Mother'," Her crimson, razor-slit lips thinned. She sounded almost bored. "Girl, from this day forward, you are a scullery maid. Your father dreadfully spoiled you while he alive. As I am forced to care for you now, you must pay back this favor with your work. Oh, don't look so shocked, you stupid thing. You think you're too delicate, too precious to work? I could easily cast you out into the woods, and then what would happen to you? Your heart would be ripped from your ribs by some beast, surely. I'm sure you don't want that. If you're at all grateful for what I have decided to give you, you'll do as I say."

And that, for the next nine years, was that.


Things began to change at fourteen, as they are wont to do around that age.

Previously, she had felt at least content with her life in the castle. Doing the chores was her duty, and the only thing she'd ever truly known besides. But lately, she felt as if she were suspended in a state of vague unease, like many things ought to be happening that weren't. An undirected disquiet filled her bones, and she felt as if a change ought to be happening to go along with the changes greeting her fourteen-year old body, but there was...nothing. She didn't know what it was she wanted, but the same-ness of her days gave her a restless, itchy feeling.

She found herself more and more preoccupied with things she hadn't thought about before. Her appearance, for instance. Her stepmother had always made it clear that she was rather plain - "Snow White, you must wear these clothes now and keep your hair cut short. There's no need to look nice as a scullery maid, and it will only make you look silly, anyway. People will just look at you and say 'Poor girl, she's trying so hard to look pretty when she just cannot.' It's best to have plain clothes, my match the rest of you."

So she had, up until recently, given very little thought to beauty. There was no time for that. But when royals from neighboring kingdoms came to visit, they sometimes brought their daughters, and Snow White found herself staring at the silken chiffon skirts, the elaborate jewels, and the spilling loops of artfully crafted hairstyles. She wished she could look like that, just for a day – to be pretty. But she just looked down at the floor and continued sweeping, because bad things would happen if the Queen's guests happened to notice her. The Queen never liked it when people noticed her.

One night before going to bed, she had peered at her reflection in the wishing well, because servants didn't get mirrors. She tried to replicate some of the elegant hairstyles she'd seen just using her hands, but it was no use – her hair was simply too short. Sighing petulantly, she had tilted her head and really looked at herself.

She had never looked so pretty as in that moment, with her marmoreal, snow-dusted complexion and air of youthful fragility. Her brown irises brought to mind lacquered apple pips, her hair seemed to be spun out of the nighttime itself, and her lips looked like two blood brush strokes, lovingly painted on.

Snow White had stared at herself. Was she actually...beautiful? It was a thought so startling she almost gasped aloud. She wondered if it was foolish and vain to care so much, but she couldn't stop herself from looking into the perfect mirror of the well, imagining that her stepmother might be wrong about her.

But then - no - she heard the voice of the Queen in her ears, and she remembered - you are not pretty you are not a thing of beauty you are not worth a glance, if you were I wouldn't have to hide you away like this, Snow White, but as it stands nobody wants to look at something so pathetic and why on earth should I make them?

Beauty, Snow understood, was just too much to wish for when it came to someone like her.

She turned away from the wishing well, biting her lip. Her, beautiful? It was just a trick of the light, nothing more.


The Queen had Snow sleep on a cot in the kitchen, which was just far enough from the other servant girls' sleeping quarters that it made her feel isolated, but close enough that she could hear their whispers and know she was not a part of it. She wanted to go join them, most of the time. And lately she felt that she deserved to do so - even if someone was not beautiful, like her, she thought that was a poor reason to be kept alone.

She was starting to think that she could be worth something even if she wasn't fair, but it was a scary thought, one that she both entertained and held at arm's length. Her stepmother would not agree with her, she knew that, and there were nine year's of the Queen's barbed insults in her system. No, it was best not to dwell too much on what should be. Snow had to endure, she had to be as happy in her life as she could be, because that was the way you kept on.

One night she was lying on her cot, watching a decidedly unpleasant hundred-legged insect skitter across the floor. She made no move to kill it, though. She had sworn off being mean to anything a year ago, after the Queen had slapped her across the face, leaving a bruise on the same cheek Father had always kissed. Snow had cried her eyes out in her room and stomped on a spider crawling across the floor, when it suddenly occurred to her that the spider was only trying to survive, just like her, and she had, for no reason at all, snipped its life short in the stamp of a shoe. Then she cried some more. She didn't want to be anything like stepmother, so she always tried to be polite to all animals and people, although it wasn't easy all the time.

She was distracted from the bug's path when one of the servant girl's voices stood out clearer among the rest. The others had quieted down, all wanting to hear whatever she had to say.

"Tell us what happened, Adelais, tell us!"

" know how Edmund, the stablehand, has been hanging around me lately? I'll be preparing supper and he'll just stand in the doorway, a little shy, and try to make conversation."

There was a flutter of giggles. "Go on!"

"Today, he asked me if I wanted to go see the horses, if I could spare a moment," Adelais said, her voice lowered in conspiracy. It was clear she was enjoying being the center of attention. "And I really couldn't, but he looked so nice, and he sort of stuttered as he asked, so I said yes anyway. Then he took me down to the stables and let me pet the Queen's favorite horse, and we were all by ourselves, just talking, and as we talked he moved closer to me, and then..." She trailed off, for peak dramatic effect.

"Adelais, just tell us what happened!" The others whined.

"Alright, alright!" She paused for a moment, and then said, very soft, "Edmund kissed me."

The other girls let out dreamy sighs. Snow felt a pang, that had something to do with the fact that she could not go and join in on these exchanges even though they were not so far away, but it had to do with the story the girl had told as well. She felt terribly left out, not only from these girlhood friendships, but from relationships with boys as well. The male and female servants didn't often come in contact with each other in general, since they did such different tasks, but Snow White, especially,was kept out of the way of boys her own age. She was no stranger to men - sometimes when she was busy with her chores one or two would loiter around and leer at her; their eyes meandering hungrily down the dip of her collarbone and the moon-pale flesh of her cheek. For the most part, she stoically ignored them. Only twice had she ever been touched by them - a work-roughened hand had gripped her wrist or tried to cup her chin, and both times she had jerked back and glared at them until they backed down, too angry - and, yes, scared as well - to conjure up the words she wanted to say, that she should not be treated like this, that she was a girl and they were adults, that she would not let them take her down.

She did not know what it would feel like for a man who was less than twice her age to look at her not with hunger, but with a deeper sort of longing and a lightning-struck wonder. To have boy-hands that were soft and a little shaky with nerves brushing against her face, to fall in love like gulping down a warm drink.

A sort of aching curiosity pooled throughout Snow. Someday - maybe - she could have all those things. She remembered the fables her drowned dead father had read her, and the princes who fell so intensely in love with the princesses, and she remembered who she was - that she was a princess. It didn't matter that she cleaned day in and day out, or that she was locked away in the walls of the castle, Snow White was a princess. And as long she hoped and dreamed and was kind, she would endure for as long as she needed to.

Freedom would come to her one day.

And maybe a prince, too.
For some reason I felt compelled to do a Snow White oneshot. I feel like she totally doesn't get enough credit for a fourteen year old girl who, except for the panicked run through the forest, was pretty level-headed and optimistic considering her stepmother was trying to assassinate her. Snow White is an adorable and feminine BAMF and she's super underrated, so I guess I wanted to give her some appreciation and a bit more backstory.

If you like it please comment! Find it on here:…
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            Elliot wished he wasn’t dangling by his fingertips on a window-ledge of a two-story building. He wished he wasn’t, but he was.

            Of course, it was his own damn fault. He supposed this was karma coming back to bite him in the ass, saying Ha. That’s what you get for trying to rob someone.

            And okay, yeah, that was true. But God, imminent death by concrete seemed like a tad too harsh a punishment, didn’t it?

            He hadn’t really intended to rob anyone that night. It was one of those things that just sort of happened. Up until then he’d only shoplifted, though he was pretty good at it if he did say so himself. He’d probably racked up nearly a thousand dollars just by sneaking things away from their spot in the big ol’ consumerism machine. Some he sold, some he kept for himself. God knows he wouldn’t look as good as he did (well, more like halfway decent) if he had to rely on legally obtaining things like clothes. Or food. Or soap.

            Anyway, stealing was fun for Elliot, and it was so easy, too. It felt nice outsmarting the poor store clerks over and over again. That night, after probably one too many drinks, Elliot had been walking home – which meant shitty abandoned building – when it came upon him to take his thievery to the next level. Breaking into a house? Why the hell not? The lowlifes he hung out with did it all the time, and some of them were dumb as rocks. Like that moron who called himself Mammoth. If he could do it, so could Elliot, who had always been light-footed and good at sinking into the dark. He could be even better. And besides, it would be fun.

            In hindsight, Elliot realized he’d been slightly too tipsy to make that kind of decision, much less execute it well. But in the moment, the decision was made, and an apartment building was chosen. It looked like a nice enough building to have fairly respectable residents who owned things of worth, and not be full of meth addicts or people who wouldn’t hesitate to pump bullets into Elliot if he was caught. But it didn’t look nice enough to have a particularly advanced security system, if any security system at all. Perfect.

            Elliot had prowled around the halls, looking for an apartment that just called to him for robbing. The adrenaline was beginning to clear away the alcohol clouds in his brain, not that the adrenaline made his judgement much better. He found himself on the second floor, standing in front of a door. No lights shone from the crack underneath. He pressed his ear to it. Dead silent. So either nobody was home, or somebody was and they were asleep. Well, he’d just have to be quiet.

            He’d picked the lock with ease and slipped in, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness, so thick it looked like someone had very thoroughly coated the air with black paint. Only a bright rectangle of moon from the window cut through it. Elliot had been standing there, trying to figure out how to proceed, and the realization that he probably should’ve planned this out sinking into his more sober brain, when he heard a scuffle. His throat suddenly clogged with panic, he’d zipped over to the window, thrown it open, and climbed out quicker than he’d thought he could.

            He didn’t know what he had expected; maybe he’d just assumed a fire escape would miraculously appear under him, but all of a sudden his feet were flailing over empty air, the tips of his fingers on brick the only thing protecting him.

            Elliot sighed. He tried to ignore how sweaty his fingers were getting. Here he was, about to die over the stupidest robbery in history. It wasn’t like he could call for help. What would he say? “Excuse me, I know I was trying to rob you, but I colossally screwed up and now I’m hanging off your window ledge. A little help?” At the very least, the window only opened out to a dingy alley, so he wasn’t facing the street where anybody could see him and report him to the police. But that thought didn’t really help the fact that he was about to die and once he did, nobody in the world would even give half a damn.

            The light turned on in the apartment and Elliot froze. He was about to be discovered. Oh, great. Absolutely fantastic. How do I get out of this one?

            Cautious footsteps scuffed in Elliot’s direction, and he winced, heart ricocheting around his chest. Just then, a girl came into view, peering at him suspiciously.

The first thing Elliot noticed was her cropped chin-length hair, which was dyed a somewhat ridiculous purple. Her large, sleepy eyes were surrounded by smudged eyeliner, and she wore a black tank-top which dipped low enough to show a hint of cleavage. Elliot swallowed. The girl struck him, somehow. He wasn’t sure if he exactly considered her pretty, but he felt her stare in his chest. He very quickly decided that he liked looking at this girl, even if it happened to be from the edge of a window.

            “Who the hell are you?” she asked, snapping him out of his wandering thoughts.

            “Um, Elliot,” he answered, too nervous to come up with a fake name on the spot. “Hello. Um, I’m in a bit of a situation. As you can see.”

            Her dark eyes looked him up and down. She crossed her arms, glaring. “Why are you hanging out of my window?”

            “Well, there’s, uh – there’s a very logical reason for that actually.” Elliot stammered. His fingers were starting to slide and he tightened his grip.

            “Were you trying to robme?” The girl scowled, still making no move to help him.

            “What? No, no, of course not.” He answered quickly. “But, uh, how about you, y’know, save me from splatting onto the concrete and then I can explain what I’m doing here?”

            She leaned out the window, and off her skin he caught a potent whiff of tea. ‘Hmm. I dunno.” She said. “It doesn’t look like that far a fall. You might break some bones, but you won’t die. Probably.” She looked down at him, gave a small smile. Unfortunately, it was sort of a nice smile, and it threw Elliot off even more. “I’d start talking if I were you.”

            “Look, I wasn’t trying to rob you, okay?” He said desperation creeping into his voice. He did not want to fall, even if it wouldn’t kill him. “I was just – just –“

            “If you aren’t a thief, why are you wearing all black?”

            “Why are you?” He shot back. “Listen. Please, please, just help me up.”

            Miraculously, mercy came into her eyes and she sighed in defeat. “Fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.”

            She leaned forward and gripped his forearms, biting her lip as she hauled him up. The scent of tea enveloped him again, and he wondered what kind it was. He felt weak with relief, though a bit embarrassed. He was having to be rescued by the person he was trying to steal from. He was supposed to get in and get out, a creature of the night who left no trace. Yeah, right.

            Once his elbows were past the windowsill he was able to crawl up with little of the girl’s help. The two stood, panting slightly from the effort of getting Elliot through the window.

            As she stood there with her arms crossed, her body tense (Is she a little afraid? He thought, and the thought did not feel good) he considered that he really did like the way she looked. She was only wearing a black tank-top and black sweatpants –they weren’t the same black, though; as an avid wearer of black clothing he always knew when shades didn’t match up – but her face had an interesting look to it, like a vampire, or a star from one of those old silent horror movies or something. And even though unnatural hair colors weren’t normally his thing, the violet didn’t look bad on her. She looks good. He thought. She really does. An idea struck him suddenly, suddenly enough that it made him wonder if he wasn’t quite as sober as he thought, and the idea was that he would really rather make out with her than have to go through the conversation waiting on her pretty mouth.

            “Okay,” she said, eyeing him like he might attack. Not that he could blame her. He had the feeling that she would deck him if he did anyway, or that she would at least make a very good effort. “If you’re not here to steal, what are you doing?”

            Anxiousness descended on him as he realized he would literally have to make things up off the top of his head in what was quite the high-stakes situation. If he couldn’t convince Raven, he’d probably end up in jail, and nobody he knew had the money to bail him out. Not that anybody gives enough of a shit about me to do it, even if they could pay the bond.He thought darkly. Plus, for some reason he really, really didn’t want this girl to think he was a thieving loser. He could tell already that he wasn’t going to forget her in a hurry.

            “Well…” he glanced around, as if looking for a clue. It became clear to him that he wouldn’t have had much to take, anyway. It was obvious that she wasn’t a rich girl, and that the apartment was probably a rental instead of a permanent home. The walls were a standard off-white, with no artwork or decoration hanging on them. A faded navy blue couch sat across from a small and slightly outdated TV. Clearly she wasn’t allowed to modify too many things in here, but there did seem to be a few personal touches. He noticed photographs of her with people about his and her age – a red-haired girl with a huge smile, an African-American boy who frequently appeared making goofy faces with a scrawny green-eyed kid, and a devilishly handsome boy with shiny black hair. He wondered for a second if that black-haired boy was her boyfriend, because he was certainly good-looking, and for some reason the thought of her with him made him feel prickly inside. He mostly noticed the books, though – there was a bookcase full of them, they were stacked on the end tables, and even on the floor. Dozens of them. He wanted to go pick one up and figure out what this girl was interested in; what she curled up in her bed with before she went to sleep.

            He turned back to her. “Wait a second. I don’t even know your name, and you saved me. What is it?”

            She hesitated, and it bothered him. Suddenly he wanted to know all about her. It was strange, but she was cute.

            “Raven,” she said slowly. “My name’s Raven. And you’re…Elliot.”


            A very awkward silence fell over them. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Well, Elliot, you know my name now, but I still don’t know why I found you dangling out my window, and I’m not really inclined to trust you.”

            He put a hand to his chest, maybe just trying to lighten the mood. “Raven, you hurt me, deeply. As for why I’m here now…” Okay, time to lie. “It’s my girlfriend’s fault.”

            She raised an eyebrow. “You have a girlfriend?”

            Was that disappointment in her voice? He noticed that her eyes had drifted to his bicep. Is she really checking me out as much as I’m checking her out? He certainly hoped so. He needed something good to happen to him for once, and boy, did she look like it.

            “Well, my ex-girlfriend.” He found himself saying. “I don’t have one anymore. We’re over for sure. I am totally, one-hundred percent single.” You sound like a damn idiot, Elliot. He was seized by an unignorable need to know if she was, so before he could stop himself, he blurted out “Are you, by the way?”



            Raven bit her very soft-looking bottom lip, and somehow that motion drove him crazy. She looked a mix of annoyed, cautious, amused, and something Elliot couldn’t quite place. But there was a shiver in the air between them that hadn’t been there earlier. Hey, was that a blush blooming on her cheeks…?

            “Yeah, I’m single. And you know what else I am? Still waiting for your explanation.” She said, though she sounded less hostile than she had before. But maybe Elliot was just imagining it.

            “Right,” he said. “Right. So you see, I had this girlfriend. And last week I broke up with her because it just wasn’t working out, you know? And she was crazy too. You ever had a partner who  was, like, super possessive and flipped out over every little thing? Because that was her.”

            “I’ve never had a boyfriend.” she said bluntly, like she was completely unembarrassed by this fact - but she averted her eyes slightly and he could tell she was bluffing. She was embarrassed.

            “Well, that’s okay. But it does sort of surprise me.” he replied. This was not only a true statement, but, admittedly, a bit of a strategic one - hey, this wasn’t really a situation rife with opportunities to flirt. He had to jump on any chance he could to say something all cool-guy and suave.

            She glanced back at him. “It surprises you?”

            “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, why wouldn’t a guy want to date you?”

            Raven was definitely blushing now, her prickly attitude dissolving. “You don’t know me.”

            “Well, no,” But I’d like to. “But I don’t really have to. You’re - well, you’re pretty good-looking.” He blushed a little now, too. He was not as suave as he’d hoped.  “And you seem like an interesting girl -”

            “There’s plenty of reasons why a guy wouldn’t want to date me, Elliot.” her eyes drifted up to a spot on the ceiling. “But...thanks for the compliment, I guess.” she muttered, her cheeks turning even rosier.

            He smiled, a little embarrassed himself. “I’m just calling it like I see it. But, uh, yeah. So I broke up with this girl,” he decided to push forward, because he knew she’d get more annoyed at him if he didn’t. “She wasn’t really my type in the first place,” he added, just to procrastinate a little more.

            Raven murmured something that Elliot didn’t quite catch. “Um, what was that?”

            She crossed her arms and looked down at the floor. “Oh. I said ‘what is your type?’ but it’s not really important to me. At all. I don’t know why I asked. Just keep going.”

            Elliot looked at her. He looked at her and he understood that no, he was not the only one feeling a very strange and sudden attraction tonight, and he understood that though Raven could be an exceptional badass, there was a streak of fragility in her too, like a hairline crack. Her denial that any boy would want to date her was not only wrong, but telling.

            Boy, oh boy. The longer he stood here the more he wanted to figure her out. And the more making out with her seemed like a damn good idea.

            “No,” he said slowly, grinning. “I’ll go ahead and tell you my type, since you want to know,” He elected to ignore her eye roll. It was fake. And no, that wasn’t just his cockiness talking. Elliot could tell, really tell, that she wanted to know. He waited a few moments, running his eyes over her, before saying “I like blue eyes. Dark blue eyes, mostly. And girls with short hair. And it’s nice if they wear a lot of black so we can have something in common.”

            Raven stared at him. “I know what you’re doing.” she said in a low voice.

            “So do I. I think I’m flirting with you.” he winked boldly. He was nervous as hell on the inside, but it seemed like a good moment to just go for it.

            “I think you’re just trying to get out of the very, very suspicious situation you’ve found yourself in.”

            “C’mon. For one thing, as I said, I have a very logical reason for why I’m in your apartment right now, and it’s not as suspicious as it looks. For another thing, you were the one who derailed me from continuing my explanation. Also, can’t you just trust people? I wouldn’t lie about whether or not I’m flirting with someone.”

            “No,” she said flatly. “I can’t just trust people, especially when I find them hanging out my window in the middle of the damn night.”

            “But you liked hearing it.” he said. Why couldn’t she just give up this cold front? You’re sort of into me, girl. You know it, I know it. There’s no need to keep running around in circles. “You wanted to know what my type was, and I told you, and you were glad that you happen to be my type.”

            Raven didn’t answer right away. “Just...continue, alright? So I can decide whether or not I need to call the police on you.”

            Elliot narrowed his eyes, disappointed. He could’ve sworn they’d made some progress. There had been mutual flirting! But I scared her off. Damn.

            “Okay. Sure.” he answered slowly. “So, I broke up with this girl, because besides not really being my type, she was absolutely crazy. Like, crazy as in bitchy. The thing is she has these two brothers who are just as crazy as she is.” He was glad that this nonsense seemed to just be coming to him out of thin air, but he’d always been a decent liar. Elliot found that he felt a little bad lying to Raven, though, and that was definitely not something that normally happened to him. But girls like Raven weren’t something that normally happened to him, either. “So she’s mad as hell that I dumped her, and I guess she told her brothers about it, because tonight they walked into the bar I was at with every intention to beat me up.”

            Raven eyed him, still looking skeptical, but her blush hadn’t quite faded. “And then...what?”

            Elliot shifted awkwardly. The lie had fabricated in his head as he went along, and he knew this next part was going to make him look like a coward. But hey, better a coward than a thief, right? She doesn’t have to know that I’m both. “Well, I knew I didn’t stand a chance against these guys. For one thing, there were two of them. For another thing, although I am a fairly well-muscled young man…” He winked and lifted his right arm.

            Raven’s eyes were once again drawn to his bicep, and they graced over his veiny hand and forearm as well. Her gaze flickered away, and then came back, and then flickered away again; flighty as a little bird. He liked her eyes on him. He liked it a lot. “Beside the point, Elliot,” she said. She sounded stern, but a little breathy. Elliot had a feeling he knew why.

            “...I knew I couldn’t really stand up to those two. They’re, like, bodybuilder size.” He lowered his arm. “So I had to get out of there. It’s too far to my…” he faltered as he debated how to refer to where he lived for now. Home? He hadn’t had a real home for as long as he could remember. Did an abandoned, falling apart residence where countless teenage runaways came and went really count as a house? “,” he said, deciding it would for this conversation. “So I knew I’d have to hide out somewhere else. And this happened to be the place.”

            The two of them stared at one another while Elliot’s heart thudded. He wondered if his little tale was good enough, though considering he’d made it up on the fly while slightly drunk and deeply distracted by the girl in front of him, he didn’t think he’d done too bad. But somehow, whether or not he was going to jail wasn’t his biggest priority anymore. He’d finished telling his story to Raven, but that meant his time with her was probably up, whether she believed him or not.

            Her eyes met his steadily, and he swallowed up the look of them, how their color reminded him of the sky as it darkened from twilight to night-time, how they held trepidation and desire and they were so blue. They were so blue and he just really, really wanted to keep looking at them and it suddenly seemed so sad, so wrong that the two of them should part ways after this night. He didn’t want to leave her behind never knowing what it was like to feel her mouth against his. He liked her. He liked her hair and her skin and her ridiculous stacks of books and her boldness and her wit and the way she talked and the fragility, the hairline crack, because he had a hairline crack too, probably bigger than hers. But - he sucked in a breath - if anyone could fill it in, it would be someone like Raven.

            Raven finally dropped her gaze and crossed her arms. “You know what I think?” she said. “I think you’re sorta fucked up.”

            Elliot stared at her. Was he supposed to be insulted? She certainly wasn’t wrong

            “But it’s okay,” she continued. “Because in all honesty, I’m a little fucked up too.” She turned her face towards the window, light from the outside painting her cheeks. “Elliot - a lot of things in your story don’t really add up. I mean, if you were just trying to hide and you ran into this apartment building, why would you waste time running up to the second floor? And why wouldn’t you have hidden somewhere closer to the bar, because as far as I know, the nearest bar is a couple of streets away?”

            She smiled a bit at his panicked face. “But don’t worry. I won’t ask you to answer those questions. I probably shouldn’t let you get away with this, but something tells me you’re not a really bad guy. Just…” she trailed off, searching for a word.

            “Lost?” he offered, his voice coming out a bit hoarse.

            “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Yeah, I think that works.”

            “So…” Elliot picked at a thread hanging off his shirt. “I’m not getting arrested tonight?”

            “No, you’re not getting arrested.” Raven said. Her gaze was fixated on him.

            Relief washed over Elliot. He almost wanted to drop down on his knees and thank her, but it would’ve ruined the charged atmosphere between them. She was waiting for something. They were both waiting for something.

            “I don’t really...know you,” Elliot said hesitantly. “But, like...I feel like it would be really awesome to get to know you.” He gestured vaguely and tried to arrange his thoughts into something intelligent. “I can feel a lot of possibilities here. Right here, with you. And I think they’re all pretty good.” He met her gaze and took a step towards her. “I know I’m not getting arrested tonight, Raven, but I have one more question. Am I - getting kissed tonight?”

            Instead of answering, she stepped towards him too until only a few inches separated them. She let her hand rest on one of his hipbones, quickly, as if she wanted to do it before she could change her mind. Elliot’s pulse was fast and thunderous in his ears.

            “You know,” Raven said softly, her index finger running circles over his hip. “I’m normally a very, very sensible girl. I don’t tend to do things like this.”
             “Well, I’m not a very sensible boy, but I don’t tend to things like this either.” Elliot smirked.

            She raised herself up on her tiptoes, the scent of her enveloping him. “But for you…”

            ;“...I think I’ll make an exception.” he finished for her.

            Raven kissed him then, and Elliot kissed her back and he felt a buzzing certainty that this - this was just the beginning.
how to pretend you weren't robbing someone
I haven't watched Teen Titans in way too long, but while scrolling through Tumblr one day I saw a list of AUs by theapplepielifestyle "where one or both of ur otp is a hot mess":theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.c…

One of them was "'
you found me hanging by my fingertips from your window and i don’t want to tell you i was trying to rob you but idk how else to explain this and i don’t want to go to jail and also you’re kind of cute we should make out when i’m not clinging onto your window ledge for my life' au"

The first thing I thought was "KYD WYKKYD AND RAVEN" and bam. Here it is. Um, AU where nobody has powers and is a superhero/villain, and also they're old enough to be able to rent an apartment by themselves... I also decided that since this is a normal world AU Kyd Wykkyd needed an actually plausible name, so I went with Elliot since that seems to be the most headcanon-ed name for him. Enjoy, and of course, the prompt nor the characters  belong to me!

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The story of life is quicker than the blink of an eye, the story of love is hello, goodbye." - Jimi Hendrix


Everything seemed very happy and very safe in Cass's café that night. It was warm enough to border on uncomfortable outside, but Honey Lemon and her friends were sitting there and laughing at Fred's stupid jokes, and everything seemed blissfully okay and comfortably alive. Honey snapped sloppy photos of her best friends. She looked around the café and imagined Tadashi's life there. There was a sort of thrill at being in the place Tadashi considered home. She imagined him now, standing at the counter, good-naturedly rolling his eyes at his Aunt Cass; at the table by the windows, blackberry eyes intense as he drew out more blueprints for his beloved Baymax.

They all waited for Tadashi and Hiro to come home from the showcase, and didn't think for one second that anything could go wrong. The sirens in the distance were simply part of San Fransokyo's background music. They felt too young and too secure to be touched by thoughts of death.

The bakery's phone wailed its metallic wail. Cass said hello. Honey Lemon didn't pay attention. She took a selfie and wished Tadashi would get home soon so she could take one with him. Maybe they would make silly faces, and Honey would save their moment forever in her phone.

And then, all of a sudden, Cass was scrabbling for her car keys, her eyes taking on a wild sheen. "A fire, there's been a fire at the exhibition," she said. "Tadashi's inside," she said.

It all happened so fast. Worry flooded Honey, made the air in the café feel charged and tense, but the idea that he was dead did not cross her. Injured, maybe, but not dead. Tadashi Hamada was a constant in the world. Him and his baseball cap and passion and soft eyes and the sweet-as-candy feeling his smile gave Honey were things that seemed solid and permanent. They couldn't just...go.

Cass ordered the teens to stay where they were, not to follow her. They were too shocked to disobey. So they sat. Tapped their shoes too loud against the floor. Asked each other, "You think everything's alright?" and answered "Of course." Fear dug through them, termites through wood. The first time Tadashi's path crossed Honey Lemon's dropped into her mind, for some reason. It had been the third day of university and she had been breaking in some staggeringly tall platform shoes. She had nearly stumbled and dropped her binders, but all of a sudden he had been there, his chestnut-colored hands steadying her body and his charcoal eyes somehow steadying her soul, igniting a warm calm in her. "You alright?" he'd asked with a grin, and that right there was the beginning of everything. The moment they'd met and the feeling he'd given her, how having him at her side made Honey feel at peace, never quite left her, not ever.

She remembered all the times she'd tried to impress him with various chemical reactions, and all his warm compliments and broad smiles. She'd wanted to know what it felt like to have his lips press onto her forehead with an easy familiarity, to learn all his microscopic idiosyncrasies and have him know hers. How perfect he'd seemed, and how utterly lost she felt around him, like she didn't know what to do with her eyes or smile or hands. He was still very much alive in her mind, then.

The phone wailed again and Gogo leapt for it. It was Cass, calling from her cell.

"Everything's okay, right?" Gogo said.

Everything was not okay.

Honey Lemon would think later on about how tragedy feels the first time you hear about it. It reminded her of the that time last year when she and her friends were hanging out at Wasabi's apartment, waiting for him to come back with a pineapple pizza, and they opened up one of his cabinets full of meticulously organized snacks, chips and pocky and shit like that, and they giggled and decided to play a prank on Wasabi while Tadashi only sort of tried to stop them, because sometimes he got sick of having to be the responsible one, so they messed up his stupid cabinet and when Wasabi opened it all his snacks fell right in his face. It was so incredibly idiotic, but Honey felt like the tragedy crash-landed directly into her like those snacks onto Wasabi even though it was definitely not the same thing, and she remembered poor Tadashi there, laughing and breathing and the golden future all stretched out in front of him, and Honey Lemon had loved him then and she loved him now. She loved poor, dead, burnt-to-a-crisp Tadashi Hamada -

Damn it.

Things weren't supposed to end the way they did.
teenage crushes go up in smoke
I know I'm not very active on dA anymore, but I wrote this very sloppy and un-proofread Big Hero 6 oneshot, so here you go. Um, there's only, like, 2 cuss words but I decided to put the rating on anyway.

Here it is on…
I was tagged by :iconrandomkitty101: so it looks like I'll have to do this. :XD: Here we go.

The rules :
1. You must post these rules.
2. Each person has to share 10 things about themselves.
3. Answer 10 questions asked to you and invent 10 questions that people you tag will answer.
4. Choose 10 people + put their icons on your journal.
5. Go to their pages and inform them that they have been TAGGED!
6. Not something silly like: 'you are tagged of you read this.'
7. You have to legitimately tag 10 people.
8. No tag-backs.
9. Can't say, no tags.
10. Everyone that has been tagged must make a journal entry.

Ten Things about Me:
1. I have a twin: :iconinvaderlez:
2. I love One Direction, and my favorite member is Liam because he's the kind of person I aspire to be.
3. I'm a bit hemaphobic. One time we had a class on self-mutilation in school, and I fainted because it was too gory.
4. I consider myself a liberal.
5. I have 2 dogs and 1 cat.
6. My favorite color is light blue.
7. My friends have labeled me as "the delicate one"
8. I like singing and acting.
9. I was born in the United States and I love my country. :)
10. I am apart of way too many fandoms. 

The Questions:
1. What is your favorite season?
Summer because I don't have to go to school.
2. Do you speak another language? If so, what?
I've been taking Spanish for 4 years, but I'm really not that good at it.
3. What is your favorite color?
Light blue.
4. What was your favorite gift you got for Christmas? (If you don’t celebrate Christmas, what was your favorite gift you got for your birthday?)
The new One Direction book, Where We Are. :)
5. Which big four member is your favorite, Merida, Rapunzel, Jack or Hiccup?
I'm not really a member of the Big Four fandom, and I've only seen 3/4 of those movies, so... But I guess my favorite film out of those 4 is Tangled, so Rapunzel.
6. What is your favorite animal? (Includes mythical animals)
7. What is the worst pun you have ever made?
Sister: I was washing my hands and I looked up, and the cat was all of a sudden right there in the mirror, like out of nowhere...
Me:Sounds like...paranormal cativity!
Sister: I hope you get arrested for that.
8. Who is your favorite bat family member?
As in Batman? Um...Dick Grayson?
9. What is the most horrible subject in school for you?
10. What do you want to be when you get older?
I want to do musical theatre, but it probably won't happen.

My Questions
1. Who is your favorite superhero?
2. What's your OTP?
3. What country were you born in?
4. What's your favorite book and why?
5. What's your favorite Disney movie?
6. What is the saddest memory you have?
7. If you could meet any historical figure, who would it be?
8. What is your deepest fear?
9. What part of your personality do you like the most?
10. What would you do if you read a book of all the lies you've been told?

I TAG (I am so sorry. BTW, I'm just choosing random watchers; I don't have anything against you guys :XD:)


Claireluvs1D's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Traditional Art
United States
I like to draw for fun, and although I'm not at a high level of skill yet, hopefully on Deviantart I can get better. I'm a fan of a lot of things, but I especially love One Direction. :)

put this on your
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What Are Your Last Words Before GAME OVER?
What Are Your Last Words Before GAME OVER?
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What Pokemon Are You?
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What Type of Anime Girl Are You?
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Cybergladiator Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday 
Claireluvs1D Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you!
OneDirectionFanJohn Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2015  Hobbyist Artist
happy birthday:)
Claireluvs1D Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
BlueStanza Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for adding my poem to your collection! I appreciate the support. :)
Claireluvs1D Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
You're welcome!
SuddenlyAutumn Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2014
thank you for the favorites :heart:
Claireluvs1D Featured By Owner Jul 18, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
You're welcome. :)
91816119 Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2014   Writer
Thank you very much, my dear! :huggle:
Claireluvs1D Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
You're welcome!
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