#(not for lack of trying either!! i tried to get a different french class in earlier semesters but they Never fit around my music classes)

[supercantaloupe]

i need one last french class to finish my degree which is fine because there’s actually a french class i can take this semester. unfortunately it’s a subject that’s not particularly relevant to me and part of the homework includes video chatting with strangers in french and conducting mock job interviews in french, and then watching the videos back and commenting on my own performance. and it’s the only french class offered this semester that’s available to me since the only other ones i’ve already fucking taken

[maxdark158]

OOOH two chapters in one week??? damn even i’m jealous. of myself. though this also isn’t edited so i might read it tomorrow morning and regret life, soooo

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

The large plant in the street wasn’t promising.

Neither was the very loud scream of pain they heard as they arrived to the scene.

Damian might’ve popped some knuckles when he clenched his fists, he wasn’t fully paying attention. What the ever-loving fucking hell in a fuck was Ivy doing? Harley best not be here too or Damian may strangle both of them for coming near his Angel.

Deep fucking breaths I’m going to fucking lose it-

When they arrived, father signaled a quick “to first two follow” plan and he and Grayson went ahead, leaving Damian and Drake on the roof. Damian itched to jump and move forward. The worry was awful, filling his mind with the most unrealistic of thoughts. He tried to correct them, prove them wrong, but they were overwhelming.

What if I check through her window to make sure she’s in there and oka- he didn’t know which room she had and it would take too long.

What if the scream was hers- It was deeper, male sounding.

What if she was crushed under that plant- She wouldn’t be, right? There wasn’t any evidence of someone being under there-

What if she’s hurt? Afraid? Dying?

He heard yelling. Angry yelling, in a male voice. The constricting worry reminded him of every dangerous male villain in Gotham right now. He went through a list of those currently MIA, those who might’ve yelled. It didn’t make sense, no villain sighting was reported aside from Ivy…

But it was possible.

And the possibility made Damian want to puke.

He had to move he had to do something. He jumped down. It hadn’t been enough time yet but he didn’t care. He heard Drake hiss something in warning about Batman’s orders or something Damian didn’t fucking care about, because he had to see for himself. He had to walk in there and he had to make sure she was okay.

Before he could go in, he saw Ivy walk out through the door. What?! he moved to intercept her before seeing the blood going down her leg- What the fucking fuck happened?! Why was she bleeding?

Ivy raised a brow when she saw him. “I got a pass this time, bird. Might want to help them in there.”

The sick feeling returned. He didn’t want to trust a villain, a criminal… but Ivy wasn’t the most horrible.

He eyed the blood, the worried weeds supplying images of his Angel bleeding in the same way. Ivy was not the worst that could happen… His mind went through that handy list of villains again. Many much worse than Ivy.

Damian turned away from Ivy. Father and Grayson shattered the window the plant hadn’t gone through, he made a motion toward it before Drake grabbed his shoulder.

“Let go of me you-“

“If you’re going to disobey Batman, at least let me go with you,” Drake looked exasperated. “You’re focused on your friend, right? Someone needs to watch your ass then.”

Damian glared before prying Drake’s hand off his shoulder. If he wanted to follow, fine. Damian wouldn’t stop him. He went through the broken window and finally entered the hotel.

The vending machine was unplugged and face down on the ground, glass surrounding it. Ivy’s giant plant was in the middle of the room, steam thicker than the pot it previously inhabited and petals as big as the Batmobile’s tires. Other miscellaneous things were strewn across the room, including cut hair near the elevator.

But what had Damian’s heart pounding was the playing cards. Playing cards that were embedded in the walls and the front desk and the floor. Razor sharp playing cards. A certain villain’s playing cards.

Fucking fucking shit fuck bitch ass fuck-

“Father,” Damian’s voice was surprisingly level as he spoke. His eyes landed on the fucking purple suited clown mother fucker himself. “What is Joker doing here?”

Father however seemed to be answering something Grayson must have said, “It appears she was rescuing…”

Ivy was rescuing.

Ivy was helping.

Damian’s eyes scanned the room right as someone else made themselves known.

Marinette!

The air left his lungs. She looked worse for wear, dark circles under her eyes and blood- fucking hell blood on her person. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and Damian wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Help her.

He opened his mouth to speak, stepping toward her.

She began to sob.

As if Damian somehow needed to panic even more.

“I’m sorry,” the words were quietly choked out between hics and sobs. “I’m a hor- horrible person and-”

“Hey now,” Grayson took a step closer, trying to comfort her. Damian’s feet were stuck to the floor, the words stuck in his mouth, preventing him from doing the same. “I’m sure you’re not-”

She held up her hands, showing the blood on them. Damian inhaled sharply when he saw the bits of glass embedded into her palm – the green haired fuck hurt her.

“I broke his leg,” she took a big gulp of air. Damian bit back the words and he deserved it. “With a rock. And I threw things at him. A chocolate bar, a cookie, a phone, a lamp, a vending machine-”

“A vending machine?” His father glanced at the vending machine on the ground. Damian didn’t bother trying to decipher his expression, Marinette was turning red and gasping between her sobs. She needed to breathe.

“Miss, please calm down,” Grayson began to step toward her. Damian’s feet finally moved, and he began surging toward her as well.

She fell, nearly hitting her head on the way down. Damian caught her before she could though, barely. Fuck, she needed to breathe like yesterday.

“I’m terrible, horrible, I shouldn’t have done this,” the words used the last of her breath and were only a whisper.

Panic made his throat feel stuck and his voice thick. “Angel,” Damian spoke as calmly as he could. “You need to breathe.”

She didn’t breathe.

oooOOOooo

Usually, lack of sleep was associated with the coffee obsessed Drake, but it seemed Damian’s own mind was determined to show him what it was like to live like a lunatic. He wasn’t able to sleep even when he tried, though he didn’t try that much either. He’s pretty sure he spent an hour staring at his weedkiller order – an order that somehow got lost in Kentucky – wishing it to suddenly appear at the front gate. Then again after coming home, most of the night was a blur.

He rubbed his eyes and let his thoughts wander through the memories of last night. Or, early morning technically.

Marinette looked delicate and broken on the stretcher as she was loaded into the ambulance. Damian had to turn his head away. He saw Drake and Todd looking at him, but he didn’t want their fucking pity.

She’d be fine.

She had to be.

After Angel had passed out, she began to breathe again. She immediately got medical attention for her injuries, riding in a different ambulance than Joker, who also got medical attention at Arkham. Damian wanted nothing more than to skin him alive as he left, but he avoided doing it for the time being. Barely.

“There’s some of Joker’s laughing shit over here, B-man.”

“Have Red Robin neutralize it. We’ll have to check the tapes and see if anyone was affected.”

“Besides the guy who’s body we found behind the desk, I don’t think anyone else got hit. But good call. Red Robin, over here!”

Drake got the security camera feed and Damian saw the entirety of what happened in the hotel lobby. His Angel fought bravely and intelligently, though he couldn’t say he was a fan of the bitch who left her behind.

“Why did she go for the elevator? I’d hate being stuck in there with the Joker. And she let her classmate just fight?”

“Maybe she called for help once she got away. And even if she didn’t, we can’t judge a teenager for panicking in this situation, Tim. Damian’s friend is an anomaly.”

“I don’t know… too bad the cameras don’t have audio, I wonder what she’s saying before they realize that Joker is there.”

“Are you able to read her lips?”

“Golly jee I wish I fucking thought of that! Thanks for reminding me to read her lips on this old and grainy camera footage where you can barely tell her eyes from her nose!”

“Jesus Replacement, no need to bite my head off.”

Damian looked into it,and found that no calls were made to the police until the plant fell through the window. The calls then were about Ivy appearing, deduced by people nearby who saw the plant. That good for nothing bitch left my Angel with the Joker-

“No calls were made by anyone within the hotel. All the calls were made by people on the street or living nearby who saw the plant.”

“Hmm… Odd…”

“…I’m sorry but how the fuck did someone sleep through a giant ass plant breaking the main floor windows? How?!”

“Maybe it’s a French secret.”

He shook his head. After they got all the information, father decided to send the French children back early and pay for it himself. Damian, internally, knew why. He painted a target on Angel’s back, if she didn’t have one before.

“You realize he heard you, right?”

“What do you want, Todd?”

“Fucks’ sake demon spawn, listen to me. Joker heard you call her Angel.”

“…”

“I was already aware of that. I’ve made plans to have the class moved back in Paris. If it gets around, She’ll be an ocean away and more difficult to harm.”

“Alright, B. Was just trying to warn Demon Spawn.”

“Maybe next time he won’t fuck up.”

“Tim, no need to be harsh.”

“It’s vigilante 101, Bruce. Damian’s been doing this for years.”

“Perhaps instead of being berated for a mistake he didn’t intend, you should let Master Damian retire to his room to rest.”

Damian grumbled to himself, trying to push the intrusive awful worrisome thoughts out of his head. The ones that said maybe going back to Paris wouldn’t be enough to protect her. The ones that said Joker would want revenge, the ones that-

The ones that he wasn’t fucking listening to right now thank you very fucking much!

Damian sighed to himself. He needed some sleep. After handling the news, getting the class handled, and looking into everything involving Joker’s break in at the hotel he was told to get to bed as the sun began rising. It hadn’t really worked, as now a few hours later he was debating stealing some of Drake’s coffee to make it through the day.

Because he did have one very important task to do today. He needed to check on his Angel, and say goodbye to her. He had her number of course, and they could text as often as possible for the two of them, but he still needed to see her. See her and apologize for how horrible this trip must’ve turned out for her.

I’m bad luck, being near me ruined her trip.

Damian went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, ignoring that train of thought.

Riddler attacked her when I was there. Joker appeared after I dropped her off. I made her unlucky. I got her hurt.

It’d be easier to ignore that train of thought if it weren’t so fucking loud.

Time felt blurry right now. Probably because he was tired. But soon he was dressed in a hoodie and sunglasses, disguised so he didn’t get mobbed by paparazzi while visiting his Angel in the hotel. He was pulling his shoes on when there was a knock at the door.

“What do you want?” The knocking bounced in his head and made it hurt. Maybe he had a migraine, he wasn’t sure.

“Such a nice way to say good morning Demon Spawn,” Todd strolled in like he fucking owned the place and leaned against the wall next to the door. Damian wondered what it’d be like to have Jon’s laser sight so he could glare at Todd and kill him.

“You didn’t have permission to come in.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Tough shit,” Todd rolled his eyes. “…You… alright?”

Damian narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you asking something like that?”

“Your friend got attacked and is leaving the city because of a target on her back. Which, while I did point out that you called her a petname in front of Joker-“

“It isn’t a petname-“

“-It isn’t your fault.”

The words starkly contrasted Damian’s internal beliefs and he had to blink a few moments to make sure what he heard was real. Because what the fuck? Why would Todd try to convince him his fuck up somehow wasn’t his fucking fault!?

“It’s… not my fault that I stupidly revealed a relationship connection to a civilian in front of one of the worst villains this city has suffered?”

“Okay, that was all you, smartass,” Todd sighed. “but the other shit isn’t your fault. You didn’t hurt her, the fucked up clown did. You didn’t put her in danger, her fucking teacher and class did by abandoning her. You’re at fault for your actions, not other people’s, so if you’re blaming yourself then fucking stop. Freckles’d probably get upset if you were using her to hate yourself.”

“What on this planet makes you think I’m doing that?!” Damian’s voice rose in a snap, hypocritically, because he realized as he spoke the words that he… kind of was doing that.

Fucking feelings and fucking worry and fucking weeds in his head were the reason, of course, but he… was… fuck, he’s tired isn’t he?

“I died, Demon Spawn.” Damian raised a brow at Todd, waiting for the halfwit to continue. “Bruce and I… aren’t on the best of terms, but I did realize he… he did that. Where what Joker did was his fault. I’m not happy the fucker is still alive, but that doesn’t mean Bruce was the one who killed me. No that was all Joker.”

“What does that have to do with anything again?” Damian really just wanted Todd out of his room and not talking about things in the past. He totally understood his point and everything, but it wasn’t anything a gallon sized bottle of weedkiller wouldn’t fix.

“Wow, you must be really tired, damn,” the fucker smirked before his expression changed into something less asshole-ish. “I’m saying that if you’re blaming yourself for what the Joker did to Freckles, stop it. The fucker lost a leg and she’s on her way to the hotel from the hospital now.”

Wait.

Wait what?

“Wait what?!” Damian wasn’t even sure which one he was reacting to – the news that Angel was okay or the news that the Joker was permanently damaged.

Angel’s self defense might’ve permanently helped Gotham?!

Okay maybe he knew what he was reacting to.

Todd turned to leave like a fucking dickhead and Damian could hear the smirk in his voice as he walked away. “Check the news for the Joker thing and ask Alfred to take you to Freckles in like an hour.”

Damian was smart enough to realize that not checking out of spite for Todd would only disadvantage himself.

He still only checked a couple minutes later though. After glaring at his phone willing himself to somehow know without checking.

He needing headache pills.

oooOOOooo

The Unnamed Teenager That Defeated The Riddler Cripples Joker!

Just days after beating The Riddler at his own game, the same teenage girl holds off The Joker until Batman arrives!

“We had to amputate him below the knee,” Arkham doctor says. “There was too much glass in the wound, it cut several muscles, tendons, and arties. The shattered bone didn’t help.”

French Teenager Unavailable for Comment.

[Read More]

oooOOOooo

Damian had snuck through the lobby up to his Angel’s room. Some of her classmates were downstairs, but he hadn’t paid much attention to them, not caring at the moment.

The last memory he had of her was the blood on her hands and tears in her eyes before she fell to the floor. He wanted to change that, wanted to maybe even see if he could get her to smile. Though that felt ambitious…

He just… needed to make sure she was okay.

Damian knocked on Marinette’s hotel room door.

[imgoingtocrash]

my teen angst bullshit has a body count

by @imgoingtocrash for @hailxhydra

Rating: T

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, Jim Morita, Hydra Agents

Summary:

“Correcting people all the time, sucking up attention with the whole goody two-shoes act. I’m saying you’re a teacher’s pet, loser. And one day, everyone’s going to see it for the act that it is, and when they do—”

Peter’s hearing blanks out.

Pet.

It echoes.

Two years ago, Peter Parker escaped Hydra's control and was taken in by the Avengers. Traumatized from the experience but healing, Peter's starting to get a hang of this whole normal teenager thing. However, when Flash brings up a happily forgotten trigger from his past, Tony comes to give comfort and remind Peter that he's worth more to his loved ones than Hydra could have ever dreamed of.

Read on AO3

My fic for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! Hopefully you enjoy it @hailxhydra!!!

Full fic under the cut as requested by the exchange:

“—But I’m asking if it’s a good movie.”

“I’m telling you, it was either picking Selena for the third time or Rio, which is a stupid animated movie about birds.” Ned shakes his head dramatically. “Everybody else will fall asleep, and if everybody falls asleep, then Misses Rodriguez will give us a pop quiz instead of letting us have a movie day.”

“But I like animated movies. We like them. We watched A Bug’s Life like last week!”

“Because you hadn’t seen it before! Your film under-education is criminal, and if I don’t help you fix it, who will?!”

Ned has a point. Being kidnapped and raised by Hydra after the age of six really limits a person’s entertainment consumption, as he’s learned more than ever now that he’s surrounded by other teenagers who grew up with movies and tv shows to watch at their fingertips.

“I mean, Steve does have a list…” Peter points out weakly.

Steve keeps it in his little notebook along with other things he doesn’t understand the references to yet. He tried to encourage Peter to start something like that in the beginning, but Peter’s never really considered himself a list person. He just sort of soaks up the world now, like a curious sponge. Sometimes it means he has to Google things he doesn’t really understand the meaning of, but it also means a lot of movie nights with both the other Avengers and Ned, which is actually sort of a bonus.

Ned stops them in the hall. “Yeah, but are they cool movies or are they movies for old people and war veterans who haven’t been alive for the last 100 years?”

“...You know that I don’t really know the difference.”

Ned gives a sad shake of his head. “You’re lucky you liked Star Wars, bro. Otherwise we’d be in a very different place right now, like, friendship-wise.”

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

Peter got to pick the movie for their classes’ Cinco de Mayo party. Peter’s not sure what either movie has to do with the Mexican Army’s historical defeat of the French, but he only picked Selena because Ned suggested it. Maybe he should be regretting that choice, if the other option was harmless little Spanish birds.

“You know, Parker, I have a question,” comes a very annoyingly musical voice from behind them.

Peter just barely resists to roll his eyes. Every time with this kid. Not that Peter is any less of a kid than Flash Thompson, technically, but he definitely feels more mature.

Ned, also more mature than some of their other classmates, completely ignores Flash.

“You’ll be humming the disco medleys for weeks, I promise.”

“Wait, wait, disco? I thought you said this was supposed to take place in the 80s and 90s?”

“Music endures, dude.”

“Hey, el idiots, I’m talking to you!” Flash interrupts again.

“That’s not even how you—” Peter starts to correct, only to realize he’s stepped directly in it when Ned groans.

Flash laughs obnoxiously to himself. “Just can’t help yourself, can you, Penis?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter grumbles. It doesn’t really matter what he says now. Flash has the attention that he wanted, which means he won’t bug off until the bell rings and until he has the last laugh. And that always happens, because he’s really the only one entertained by all of the poking and prodding at Peter.

Peter breathes in, steeling himself. He’s survived worse. So much worse. Bullies with electric prongs and steel cages and control over every other aspect of his life. This is just high school. Normal kids survive it all the time, even when there are bullies and bad test grades and cliquey subcultures. This is just one privileged asshole who thinks Peter’s an easy target.

In some way, Peter’s actually proud of that. No one has ever seen him as un-intimidating before. Even his Hydra captors knew that if they lost control of him as an asset, he could easily turn on them.

(Part of him always asks why he never did. If he wasn’t evil, if he wasn’t like them, then why didn’t he just fight back? But Sam says that’s just his mind trying to deal with trauma, and Peter is trying really, really hard to get better at ignoring those kinds of intrusive thoughts.)

Speaking of talking to himself, Flash snaps his fingers in Peter’s face to get his attention back.

“You’d think for such a genius, you’d be a lot quicker on the uptake.” Flash shakes his head like he’s disappointed.

“Please just get to the point already,” Ned begs, throwing his head back.

“Correcting people all the time, sucking up attention with the whole goody two-shoes act. I’m saying you’re a teacher’s pet, loser. And one day, everyone’s going to see it for the act that it is, and when they do—”

Peter’s hearing blanks out.

Pet.

It echoes.

C’mere, Pet.

Stay down, Pet!

He was property, he was an animal, he was a weapon, their weapon, he was a mutant and he deserved it, needed it, he was the Spider, a mongrel, nothing, he was nothing and no one and Hydra was the only home a no-good runt like the Spider would ever have and he should be grateful—Kneel, Pet, be a good boy and kneel for your masters—but he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t—

Foolish Pet, you wouldn’t survive out there.

You need us, Pet. You’ll always need us.

“Peter?”

He returns to the moment with one heaving breath, only to realize he can’t take in another.

His collar is too tight, they always put it on too tight and if he complains they hit him and if they hit him he bleeds and it gets on his clothes and he won’t get any more until his bath and he hates bath time because they water is cold and stings his skin and the soap is so harsh it burns his nostrils and they’re watching him he knows they’re watching because they never leave him alone because if they did he would try to escape, he would—

“Peter, what’s wrong, are you—?”

He did. He escaped and ran away but now they have him again and he can’t live like this, not when he knows about best friends and pizza and friendly ribbing and how warm he feels when Tony pulls Peter close on the couch and presses a kiss to his head and tells Peter that he’s proud. He can’t be here anymore, he has to go, he has to run.

“Peter, wait!”

Tony is, to say the least, nervous when he gets a call from Midtown Tech’s front office.

He trusts Peter by now. The kid has come a long, long way since he snuck onto the Avengers helicarrier during the chaos of a Hydra raid. Skinny as a rail, scared, brainwashed...abused.

The Spider.

Peter didn’t like being with Hydra since they were the ones that made him enhanced, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be locked in an enclosed space with a bunch of Avengers at the time either.

As was evident by the fight he put up until Steve knocked him out. Steve still feels bad about cold-clocking a kid when Peter jokingly brings it up now, but Tony’s never shamed Steve for the decision. It was that or some kind of drug injection with the way Peter fought back tooth and nail, confused and defensive. Practically feral, from the well-fitting clothing to his lack of speech.

It was all for the better, though, once they got him back to the compound.

Peter was a talkative kid once he let himself be. Funny, too. Almost normal, if you forgot the mutant spider genetics and years of torture from a bunch of descendant assholes that seemed to hate and resent the very thing they created.

That’s why Tony agreed to let Peter start school. Real, normal, human school just like every other teenager in America attended until they finished all twelve years of it.

Because he needed to be normal, sometimes. He needed movie nights, [other things], and most importantly, friends that were his own age rather than a bunch of adult superheroes that often acted like children.

But also because Peter wanted to go, and Tony had a really, really hard time denying anything that the kid wanted when he could so easily provide.

Peter had such a hard time wanting anything, in the beginning. What did Peter want to wear instead of the plain, grey, dirty sweatpants from Hydra? What did Peter want to eat now that he could have an adequate amount of calories for his enhanced, still growing body? What did he want to watch? Listen to?

All of these choices were suddenly available to Peter, but shaking years of being denied any kind of want, any kind of choice took a toll on him that took a lot of work to get through.

Peter had put in the work. Unsurprisingly well. He was smart—tactically from years of being trained for missions, academically from whatever education Hydra must have thrust upon him. Not so much socially, but they were doing better as Peter spent more time around people that actually cared about him and lobbed insults around to tease rather than to actually cause emotional harm.

But was that enough...training, of sorts, to be around a bunch of teenagers? Sure, Peter was technically also a teenager, but they’d found him at 14. Tony still looked at Peter and saw the wide-eyed little kid sitting in the corner of a containment cell, flinching every time Tony moved.

Two years later and a lot of growth physically and emotionally, but was it enough?

Tony was hesitant about it, wish-washing the entire summer with maybes and I’ll think about its until the deadline arrived and Tony had to actually make the call.

Peter had pleaded, citing an extensive, cheesy list of films that made him want the high school experience himself for some reason. He very genuinely enjoyed shopping for school supplies. He passed Midtown’s entrance exam with results that faked years progressing in homeschooling that Tony knew would have been true, if Peter had gotten the chance to grow up like he was supposed to.

So, Tony eventually said yes, knowing that one day this call might come and Tony would have to be prepared for whatever was on the other end of the line.

An “incident” of some kind. Whatever that meant. The secretary was entirely unclear, only insistent that Peter’s family should get down to the premises immediately to handle things.

That was Tony.

Part of Tony couldn’t fathom why Peter chose him out of everyone on the team to latch onto. Another part wasn’t exactly shocked. Trauma recognized trauma, after all, even if the context was entirely different.

Tony knew what it was like to be belittled. To be seen as something you weren’t. To be abused by someone you never really trusted in the first place.

He and Peter talked a lot in that little containment cell. Hours of Tony blabbering like he always did when he was uncomfortable and Peter just sitting and waiting, waiting, waiting for the strikes to start coming.

When he said his first words.

When he told Tony his name—not Spider, but Peter Parker, a little boy from Queens who lost his parents and his whole normal life in the same night, according to FRIDAY’s records.

When he touched Tony’s arm for the first time and got a smile instead of a reprimand.

He waited and Tony was patient and it was a rough road, but...Tony was kind of a parent, now. A parental figure, at least, among others of varying degrees of quality and influence on a scarred teenager.

He was Peter’s family, whether either of them was any good at it in a traditional way or not.

And also, you know. His money was paying Peter’s tuition. His time went into helping Peter study for the entrance exam. His name was technically on Peter’s manufactured birth certificate because he was the one forging it and it wasn’t like anyone else was offering when the subject came up.

And maybe, a little, because he cared about Peter. Loved him. Wanted to be what Peter needed, what he deserved, and what better way to do that than to write his name on a piece of paper that signified the job he sort of kind of wanted?

Tony slams the car door behind himself after pulling into Midtown’s parking lot, putting on his sunglasses for the brief trip into the early afternoon sun. He’s checking security cameras, exits, and also preparing a hefty sum of cash to go into Principal Jim Morita’s bank account as well as a handful of government officials, if that’s what it takes.

Again, not that Tony doesn’t trust Peter, it’s just...when you get this kind of call and your kid is a highly trained former assassin, you prepare exit strategies on multiple fronts.

It’s been two months and Peter has only made one friend at this place. The kids can’t all be angels like Peter proclaims Ned Leeds to be. If one of them touched Peter out of nowhere or said the wrong thing, maybe Peter lashed out. Maybe Peter forgot to hold his strength back like he’s been training to do. Maybe something was broken.

Maybe it’s something far worse.

Tony has to be ready for that. He has to be ready for whatever it takes to protect Peter.

At the very least, the police aren’t on site. That’s probably a good sign that they’re willing to leave this as an internal matter for now.

The unhelpful secretary of before leads Tony out of the office by the arm at a quick pace, not explaining the situation at all before they arrive at the scene. Whatever it is. Tony was definitely expecting more blood or yelling or...anything, really.

A small crowd stands outside of a door, marked by a golden plaque to be the janitor’s closet.

Leaning on the door itself with his arms resolutely crossed is a kid about Peter’s age. Short black hair, light brown skin, dressed so similarly to Peter that Tony’s starting to wonder if that’s where Peter’s new obsession with those geeky little t-shirts has come from.

“Mister Leeds—” An older Asian man pleads, dressed in a suit and standing up straight with all of the authority he can seem to muster against the stone wall that is the teen in front of him.

The kid shakes his head in response. So this is Ned, then.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not moving. If he wants to stay in there to calm down, he should be allowed to stay in there.”

“I’m sure his parents—”

“He doesn’t even have—you don’t even know what he’s gone through!”

“And you do?”

“Well...kinda? No. But—but he’s obviously freaking out and everyone crowding around him is only going to make it worse!”

The adult rubs a hand across his forehead, stressing at a fold of wrinkles that settles there from the stress.

“Ned, I recognize you’re just trying to be a good friend, but this is a problem for—”

Tony clears his throat, catching the attention of both parties.

The older man sighs. “Oh, good. Thank you, Theresa, you can go on back to the office. We’ll take it from here.”

The secretary nods, brusquely turning around and heading off, leaving Tony there to be examined by both Ned and what must be the principal.

“Mister Stark, I’m glad you could come down, though I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. I’m Principal Morita.”

“Obviously you know who I am,” Tony replies, shaking the man’s hand. “What did happen, exactly? Theresa was sparse on the details.”

“I told you, it’s Flash’s fault! He was being a dick and—” Ned shouts.

“Mister Leeds.” The principal interrupts, stern. “Another student apparently said something...unkind to Peter. He didn’t take it well and locked himself in the closet. I haven’t even been able to assess the situation properly yet. Normally I would start with asking Peter’s side of the story, but...”

He looks to the closet, where Ned still stands, defensive.

“The bouncer is a real stickler, got it,” Tony jokes, aiming a small smile at Ned. “Peter does seem to attract the protective type.”

“Oh,” Ned says, suddenly meeting Tony’s eyes and gaping like a fish. He seems to have finally realized exactly who he’s talking to. “Oh, wow. Mister Stark, it’s an honor. I’m a huge fan, like, so huge. Peter tells me to shut up about you at least three times a day. When he showed me a picture of you guys I was like, ‘Oh my god, your dad is Tony Stark!’ and he was like ‘Oh. Yeah, I guess you’d know who he is, huh?’ like he totally didn’t get how awesome it is that you’re Iron Man. And I know you’re only kind of his dad, but still—”

“It’s suddenly become very clear to me why you two are friends,” Tony responds, keeping his smile on.

It’s actually kind of sweet to see that Peter’s found someone to confide in, even if he’s seemingly left out the more traumatic elements. But he also knows that Peter can hear them through the door, and he wants to get to the kid as fast as possible instead of dawdling for time.

If Peter wants to see him, that is.

He does, doesn’t he? Tony has been there for everything, so far. Every breakdown when the choices became too much, when the world outside of Peter’s little cell and all of the things he did that he wishes he could forget attack him at night. He hasn’t gotten old enough to not want Tony around when he’s upset, right?

“Sorry, Mister Stark. Sorry,” Ned apologizes. “I’m just nervous and worried about Peter and—”

“I get it, kid. You’re good.” He gives a reassuring grasp to Ned’s shoulder. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to see Peter now. You can ask him yourself, but I’m usually the exception to any rule about Peter wanting to be alone.”

“Right, yeah. I’ll just—”

Ned turns to open the door, but gives Morita a shifty look, like he doesn’t trust the man not to dive bomb in if given the chance.

“Peter—”

“Let him in,” replies Peter’s strained voice. He’s definitely been crying. Poor kid.

Ned pulls back and nods at Tony, stepping aside to let him through.

“You did a good job protecting him, Leeds. Thank you,” he says to the teen before stepping into the dimly lit closet and shutting the door behind him.

The room smells musty and over-powerful at the same time thanks to the potent combination of cleaners and the mop cart sitting so close together. Out of anywhere Peter could have picked, this probably isn’t the kindest to his sense of smell if it’s making Tony already scrunch his nose.

It’s lit by a single pull-chain light bulb, and in the shadows of it sits Peter, curled into himself and leaning against a rusty metal shelf filled with paper towels, cleaning equipment, and a few bottles of product that have to be expired.

“Hey, Pete.” Tony frowns at the cracked floor tile, but settles himself next to Peter anyway. His back catches some kind of spray bottle sitting on the shelf that digs uncomfortably into his back.

Peter sniffs, not looking up from the cradle of his arms. “Hey.”

Tony heaves a sigh, for the drama. “So, I hear you got your first bully.”

Peter shrugs. “Guess so.”

“That Ted kid is pretty nice. He’s a good friend.”

“Yeah. And his name is Ned.”

Tony stops beating around the bush. “What happened, Peter?”

“It was fine. It was good, you know? I got an A+ on my Spanish test, and Misses Rodriguez offered to let me choose the movie we were gonna watch for the Cinco de Mayo party as a reward. I didn’t even know any of the movies, but Ned said Selena was good because Jennifer Lopez is hot, so that’s what I picked. It was a good day, Tony!”

“...But?”

“But then Flash—”

“I meant to ask, is that his actual name? Like, legally?”

“No.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Flash said…he said I was a…” Peter’s hesitant to let it out.

“Pete, a lot of kids at this age are testing boundaries. They’re going to say a lot of stupid, insensitive, offensive—”

“He said I was a teacher’s pet.”

There’s a long minute of silence. Tony blinks curiously a few times. He doesn’t want to belittle what Peter’s feeling, but he also doesn’t understand why it’s caused him so much stress.

“I know, I know it’s—but they used to—” Peter swallows hard, probably only delaying another wave of tears. “Sometimes, before, they would call me…”

“Pet.”

Peter nods, starting to shake next to him on the floor, their arms lightly touching at just Tony saying the nickname.

“They liked it. I think it made them feel better about themselves if they acted like I wanted it. Like—like being locked in the cages or collared or—or being muzzled was good for me.”

“You need to learn a lesson, little pet. Be a good pet and eat your dinner. Stop your crying, pet. No more of your barking, pet.” Peter quotes with venom flinging from every syllable. “But I didn’t want that, Mister Stark! I promise! They gave me these powers and I didn’t want to be their pet and they made me—”

“Peter, I know. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault, I know.”

Tony curls Peter into his side, rubbing his back consolingly.

“When Flash called me that I just—I felt the collar around my neck again and I couldn’t breathe though the muzzle and they kept kicking the cage even though it hurt my ears and I could never sleep in there because it was so small and—”

“Peter—” Peter’s hyperventilating. He’s panicking, Tony realizes. Probably just like he did initially. A flashback that triggered him into having a panic attack.

“And I know that’s not what Flash meant but I was back there and I can’t—I can’t stop—”

Peter breaks into sobs, burying his face into Tony’s shirt and clutching on tight.

“Oh, Pete. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Tony soothes.

He presses a kiss to Peter’s hair, unsure when he became this tender. Probably the moment he realized this was the way he wanted someone to treat him in the midst of his worst, most vulnerable moments.

“Sometimes the bad memories come back unexpectedly, it’s alright.”

“But don’t wanna think about it anymore!” Peter cries childishly.

If it wouldn’t break Tony’s ribs, Peter would probably start banging at his chest in frustration.

“What if it gets bad and I don’t talk anymore and I can’t go to school like a normal kid and I lose everything and then you won’t want me anymore because I can’t get over this and stop being a stupid animal who needs its owners to—”

“Peter Parker, no. Absolutely not.”

Tony pushes Peter away so he can hold the boy’s face in his hands. So that he can fucking imbue into this kid how much he is loved and cherished and human.

“You’re not property, and you’re not an animal. What they did to you was wrong, and you know that now. I know that you do.”

Not just because Peter’s been to therapy since integrating with the Avengers, but also because he’s talked to all of him during his recovery from the horrors of his earlier childhood. About how his life felt before and how it feels better now. How he wouldn’t have left in the first place if he really wanted to be a part of Hydra like they raised him to want.

He’s not the child soldier they raised anymore. He’s so much more than they ever allowed him to be in that awful place.

He loosens his grip on Peter’s face only to bring him back again with an arm around his shoulder. Maybe if Peter feels him, touches him, the kid will remember all of the growth he’s made, the family he’s gained.

“Buddy, you are getting better. I know it. I’ve seen it. You know we’re all so proud of you and the progress you’ve made.”

Tony sighs. Part of him wants to sugarcoat it. That Peter has seen the worst of the world and now he’ll just be able to move on from it scott-free. It’s what he deserves, but Tony knows from experience that nothing in life is that sort of kind.

“That doesn’t mean you won’t have setbacks. I have had setbacks. Healing from the bad stuff is really, really hard, but it doesn’t make you anything that they said you were. You’re a wonderful, good kid who deserves everything he’s worked so hard for. And you’re going to get it because you have me and the team and your new best friend behind your back. You’re not alone, you’re not in a cage, you’re—you’re home, Pete. You understand?”

Peter sniffs, a sign that he’s worked himself up again, but his weak nod into Tony’s chest tells him that some of them at least might be happier tears.

“Listen to me, Pete. And I mean really, truly listen.” He looks down at the snot-covered, tear-stained teenager practically in his lap. He does love Peter. He wouldn’t have gone this far for any other kid in the world.

“It doesn’t matter what happens—hitches, mishaps, a dumb teenage mistake. You’re our kid now, Peter. You’re never going back to Hydra. Never. Not with me around.”

He knows it means something to say it out loud rather than leaving it to be assumed. He doesn’t have as much of a problem admitting it as he thought he might.

“I’m never giving you up, or letting you go, or treating you like anything other than a person. Do you understand me? That is something you never, ever have to worry about. Not from me.”

Peter sobs against him. This time it feels a lot more like relief. A release in the safety of Tony’s arms that Peter hasn’t really allowed himself, even after two years of being free of Hydra.

Peter didn’t tell the team everything. He may never even tell Tony everything. But this is one more thing Peter doesn’t have to carry alone, and Tony is happy to help their kid navigate the horrors it's brought back into his improving life.

They sit there for another minute, Peter’s whimpers muffled in Tony’s dress shirt. He’s sure the principal and Peter’s friend are getting antsy. But all the same it gives Peter another chance to calm down, and this time he seems a lot lighter when he picks his head up to look at Tony.

“Feel better?”

Peter gives a sniffle, but accompanies it with a nod and bright, attentive eyes.

“Look, I think school’s a bust for the day. Let’s go home. Whatever you wanna do, just you and me. Nobody else needs to hear about this unless you want to tell them, okay?”

“And if you wanted, I guess…”

Peter tilts his head, expectant.

“We could...nah, it’s probably offensive, right?”

“What?” Peter insists. Tony tried to warn him, but Tony also can’t resist an idea once it pops into his head.

“I just thought, you know, if you wanted—if you thought it would help, we could get you a—“ He almost ruins it, but catches himself.  “An animal. Like a dog or something.”

Peter is silent. He bites at his lip, contemplative. Looks in the direction of a mop bucket in the corner.

“Is that bad? You don’t have to, I just thought it might make you associate that word with good things, but if not—“

Peter finally meets his eyes with a tentative grin on his face.

“What kind of dog?”

[motownfiction]

girl watcher

Daniel’s the only boy in his circle of trust. On his right side, there’s Sadie, clinging tightly to his hand. But across from him sit three other girls: Kim Campbell, captain of the dance team (St. Catherine’s big claim to fame is its lack of a cheerleading squad); Vicky St. John, who wore Chanel No. 5 and lost to Lucy in the race for student body president; Gina Lumetta, who brought pizza for the whole class on her tenth birthday and has, since that day, acted like everyone owes her a favor for it. The longer the girls look at him, the more Daniel wants to fall through the floor and disappear forever.

He just hopes Sadie doesn’t realize.

Kim holds the handout that Mrs. Renaud gave them before splitting everybody into groups. She straightens her spine and clears her throat before reading the next question, which makes Sadie roll her eyes. She likes to be the leader. Daniel squeezes her hand and wonders if she knows why. At the very least, he just hopes it distracts her.

“Let’s see,” Kim says, voice a little too knowing. “‘Is there something in your life you wish you hadn’t done?’”

Before anyone answers, Sadie snorts. Kim gives her a look.

“Is that funny to you, Sadie?” she asks.

“Well, yeah,” Sadie says. “It’s so personal. Am I really supposed to share my soul in front of all of you? We barely know each other.”

“It’s a circle of trust,” Vicky doubles down. Kim and Gina nod vigorously on either side.

“Plus, we’ve all known each other since preschool,” Gina adds. “It’s not like we’re complete strangers or anything.”

“We’ve been in classes together since preschool, but we don’t know each other,” Sadie says. “I mean, what do you know about me besides my name and that I’m Sam’s twin sister?”

“We know you’re going out with Daniel,” Kim says, and Vicky and Gina laugh.

Sadie makes a face like she doesn’t get it. Daniel makes a face like he’s relieved. Then, Vicky throws her hands up in some kind of surrender.

“OK, I’ll go first,” she says. “I wish I hadn’t tried beer at Kim’s cousin’s party a few years ago. It was so gross, and I felt so sick.”

Kim and Gina laugh like it was yesterday, and Vicky eventually joins in, too. To her horror, Sadie notices a knowing smile on Daniel’s face, too. She taps him on the shoulder.

“Were you around for that?” she asks. “When Vicky drank beer at this party?”

Daniel bites his lip. He knows he can’t lie to Sadie, as badly as he might want to, just to make it all go away. He sighs and squeezes her hand again.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It was ‘82. Things were different. I was different. Vicky invited me to the party, and I went. And believe me, she didn’t just ‘try’ or ‘drink’ that beer. She was three sheets to the wind. Six sheets, maybe.”

Sadie exhales, trying and failing to laugh.

“Why did Vicky invite you?”

Daniel’s voice cracks as he tries to come up with an answer. Thankfully, Gina interrupts.

“I’ll go next,” she says. “I wish I never took my mom’s car to Wendy’s when I only had my learner’s permit.”

This time, Vicky and Kim laugh together.

“You got pulled over!” Vicky says.

“And you still can’t get a license,” Kim adds.

“I know,” Gina says, shaking her head. “Every time I ride down Telegraph, I think … there I was.”

The three girls giggle, and Sadie taps Daniel on the arm again.

“Were you working at the Wendy’s on Telegraph then?” she asks. “Do you remember when Gina Lumetta got pulled over by the cops?”

“No,” Daniel says, and that’s not even a lie. “I mean … I was working there, but I wasn’t in the store. I heard about it, though.”

Sadie nods, and Daniel hopes she doesn’t realize he heard about it from Gina.

“All right,” Kim says. “I guess it’s my turn now. I wish I hadn’t been late to French class three times at the end of freshman year.”

“Why not?” Vicky asks.

Kim fixes her eyes on Daniel before she answers the question. Daniel gulps like a cartoon character, and this time, Sadie definitely notices. She knits her brows like she’s going to be sick.

“Because then I wouldn’t have gotten detention,” she says. “And then … well, I think I know what would be different about me.”

She winks at Daniel, and all of a sudden, Sadie realizes. She’s not crazy. She’s not crazy at all. All those years, she’d heard Daniel talking to Will and Sam about his nights out with different girls, but she’d never heard any of their names. And when she never heard their names, it was easy to pretend they went to different schools – that of course Daniel wouldn’t choose another girl from St. Catherine’s over her, someone who’d always loved him, someone who knew him so well. She can’t run from it anymore. She’d always known it, anyway.

Daniel has slept with every girl in this circle. Every girl, that is, except for Sadie.

She slumps down in her chair and hopes the ground opens up to take her under, too. Kim gives Daniel another coy look.

“What about you, Daniel?” she asks. “What do you wish you never would have done?”

Daniel rubs the back of his neck, almost like he’s going to find an answer there. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything. He just makes a bunch of awkward, painful noises, like the Tin Man before he gets his oil can. Sadie lets go of his hand – not because she wants to, but because she thinks she has to. Daniel DeLuca doesn’t want to hold hands with a virgin, she thinks. And why should he?

He looks at her with pleading eyes, but her head is turned. She never sees it.

[hooniee]

 — ꒰‧⁺paris run away  *ೃ༄

↷ heeseung x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷genre: fluff | comdey ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ warnings: not proofread | none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ synopsis: (y/n) just graduates from high school and feel incomplete but doesn’t know what’s missing. a trip to paris might be able to fix that ⋯ ♡ᵎ 

↷ author note: this is @enhypenwriters​ event of the month! strangers to lovers <3 i think this was my favorite to write out of the three pieces but i feel like it’s lacking some flare :( i think it still turned out okay though. i hope you enjoy <3 ⋯ ♡ᵎ

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

you should have listened to sunoo when he said that it wasn't a good plan to travel to a foreign country on impulse.

you wouldn’t say you’ve ever been the most courageous person in your life. determined to break that trend, you planned this super out of the blue trip without much thought.

yeah. maybe this was a bit TOO courageous.

you didn't comprehend what compelled you yet here you were, arriving at paris charles de gaulle airport.

you stared at the large windows of the airport, viewing the plane that you had just left.

the gate for the concluding passengers had been locked by the flight stewardesses.

one of the stewardesses obtained eye contact with you, before shooting a smile and lightly bowing her head.

you absentmindedly returned the gesture, mind elsewhere.

bustling throughout the airport were people hurrying to their connecting flight or slumping into their lover's arms

people carried two or more suitcases with various bags strapped on their bodies, nothing on you besides a petite sling purse and one small carry on suitcase.

as weaved your way through the mass of stressed travelers, you briefly thought to yourself

how the hell did you get here?

2 days earlier

clusters of kids outfitted in blue gowns and caps could be recognized a mile away.

the graduation from high school to university.

your friend minji encloses her arm around your shoulder, your arm resting on her waist.

minji’s mom was stood in front of the both of you, gesturing wildly as she tried to take the ‘perfect graduation photo’ as she had put it

"okay pose! get a little closer, perfect. 1, 2, 3"  your friend's mom counts.

the camera shudders which creates a beaming light to flash, eyes faintly twitching.

shrieks could be heard throughout the campus as girls queued up to take their final photographs with the popular guys.

minji's mom draws back the camera and we check the picture.

"it's cute," minji exclaims, peering at it a bit more closer. you nod your head in approval.

you would miss minji, one of the friends you could constantly count on in math class when you neglected to do your homework from binging korean dramas.

"i'll send you the picture later (y/n)! don't forget about me alright? you have my socials and you can always talk to me," minji grasps your hands

you smile, feeling sad at the departure of your best friend, "of course minji, don't forget me either"

"i could never," she brings you into a secure hug.

"sweet pea perfume," you say and she chuckles. sweat pea was minji's preferred perfume and you would miss that aroma.

"i have to go now, but i'll see you around okay?" minji says.

you could notice tears well up in her eyes and she fans her eyes to prevent the tears.

"don't cry ji, i'll start crying," you joked. "i live near here and you can always visit me! my door will always be open."

she smiled, "the same goes for you." her mother shouts her name before she has to go.

"alright, see you around," you wave to her as she leaves.

on the opposite side of the garden, your mom signals to you with your bouquet of red roses in hand.

"are you ready honey?" she asks you and you smile, nodding your head.

the car ride was in pleasant quietness, light radio music fluttering in. you had taken off your cap and laid it in the car seat next to you accompanying with your bouquet. 

you had glimpsed outside to see your campus still arranged with your classmates, beaming and posing for additional pictures.

you bitterly smiled. 

for the first time, graduation didn't appear like one of those liberating scenes of a movie,

1 day ago

you sprawled on his bed, staring straight up. a fan in your hand, fanning the perspiration that threatened to come.

your eyes match the fan's speed directly above your neighbor and best friend, sunoo's, bed.

his air conditioner was broken. with the avail of those elementary paper fans and the only fan stationed in the house, you were able to find comfort

you questioned if he ever got frightened of it dropping on him when he slept.

sunoo occupies the bathroom that's joined to his room, applying some light powder.

your mind strays, more thoughts simmering in the back of your brain. you sigh for the 10th time and sunoo being exasperated, allows out a loud groan. 

it draws you out of your daze and you snap your head towards him."

"what is with you? what is on your mind sunshine?" he shuts his cushion, flinging himself on the bed.

"are you ever scared of the fan falling on you?" you felt the bed dip

"no, it's been like that for years, and don't change the subject. what's wrong?" sunoo retorted 

"what makes you say that? i'm fine, " you answer

"uh-huh," sunoo rolls his eyes

it's the blatant eye-roll rather than the hushed one, he implied business

"you've been sighing for the past ten minutes, spill," sunoo says

of course, sunoo could recognize your distress. what sort of best friend would he be if he couldn't distinguish your emotions?

you huff, " okay then"

"i don't know why but i just feel stuck? i just graduated high school and nothing feels different, i mean it doesn't have to, but what do i do now? maybe i just watched too many movies"

sunoo tsked, " (y/n). sweetie, i graduated last year and i'm still stuck here. i do nothing besides go out or stay in my room. no in-between."

"but you have something sunoo. you have a bunch of your friends, you're an instagram star and i don't know, it's just different, "

it was accurate, sunoo was extremely popular. he had a bunch of friends and acquaintances from being the vice president. 

sunoo inflated up on social media for his content from makeup to dance practices, a versatile instagram star.

you conceal your face with your hands before emitting a loud groan.

sunoo remarks, "i don't know how i can help you (y/n)? maybe you should try to rest a bit"

"easy for you to say, you, who isn’t dealing with a mid-life crisis, " you whine.

"this isn't a mid-life crisis, this is a post-graduation crisis which is totally normal. how about going out of town? obviously not to paris or whatever but maybe, what was her name again? minjoo's town!" sunoo suggested.

"obviously not to paris"

"not to paris"

"to paris"

"paris"

what about paris? paris was considerably away from your town and had a ring on the tip of your tongue. 

you had sprung up, grasping sunoo by the shoulder and shaking him, "you're a genius sunoo! paris is a genius idea."

sunoo's eyes widen and he shakes his head while attempting to pry your hands off of him.

"no, you have to think rationally-"

you released sunoo from your hold which let him stabilize his spinning head.

"and i am! i need something new. being in this town for my whole life makes me realize, maybe i just need a spontaneous trip. "

your words scarcely blur together, adrenaline rushing through your blood as you understood this could jolt you out of your post-graduation slump.

"but-"

"no buts! pass me my laptop,"

present-day

you are currently disliking your choice, anxiety rushing through your veins, but it's too overdue to have other opinions.

you had landed in france and this was a life-altering moment; a chance of a lifetime.

peering nearby, you squint at the tiny english translations of the signs. you pull out your phone.

you open up the camera to see if zooming in would improve it for your eyes. as if on cue, your stomach rumbles vaguely making you startled.

you panicked as the pocket that was previously supplied with snacks became loaded with empty wrappers.

maybe if you would be lost in this wonderful city, you might as well try some of their famous pastries.

your muscles had retracted, the result of finally getting some movement after being restrained in a metal machine that was adjacent to the fiery sun.

you stumbled across this petite bakery and enter, sparingly bowing your head. 

the owner was an older lady with her greying hair that designed it to resemble ashy highlights, pulled into a loose bun.

"que puis-je vous offrir?" she smiles.

"i'm sorry, i don't speak french?" you admit, embarrassed

as much as you assumed duolingo and rosetta stone could benefit you on a flight to paris, the only thing you could accomplish to say without messing up is "bonjour"

"that's fine mademoiselle! what can i offer you?" the lady shifts to englsih

you let out a sigh of relief, appreciative for blundering into this bakery.

"may i have your most popular pastry to go and a water bottle?" you smile, fishing out some euros.

you had looked down to the currency that you had exchanged before embarking on the plane.

"of course mademoiselle!" she says, reaching behind the counter and with her gloved hand, seizing a chocolate croissant.

"that will be 4.12 euros!" she rings you up in the cashier.

"is this the right amount? i'm not very good at counting euros," you revealed your hand where the money was.

she nodded her head and took the money, printing your receipt out. before giving you your receipt, she interviews you with a question that you weren't confident in answering"

"if you don't mind me asking, why are you here in france? not to sound rude! but i'm just curious"

you softly smile, sensing the kindness illuminating from her tone of voice. she wasn't rude at all and she was asking a simple question, but your brain struggled to obtain an answer.

"well, i would say i'm here to explore? ��i just finished high school and life felt incomplete. my best friend jokingly said "go to paris" and so I booked a ticket."

you look back up at her to see her delicate gaze. the rustling of the paper bag stopped the moment of silence

"that's amazing mademoiselle! france is the city for that. you must visit the notre-dam cathedral while you're here, it's beautiful. and maybe even find some love?"

she winks at you and you engage with a small giggle.

just like the show "emily in paris," you could merely fantasize about living a life like hers but it was an altered universe. she was an employed woman and you; a fresh graduate from high school.

"maybe! but i'm not looking forward to dating right now"

it wasn't a lie nor the truth. you would love to date someone right now but dating someone from a foreign country with a language barrier? not the most desirable idea. the owner laughs, handing you your pastry and water bottle.

"thank you for dropping by here mademoiselle! please enjoy your time in france,"

"merci beaucoup" you stumbled out, providing a small wave out.

the airport seemed to be more crowded than before. slowly opening the wrapping, you take a bite of the chocolate croissant and let out an audible gasp.

unquestionably, one of the greatest pastries you have tried in your life.

you promptly pull out your phone, snapping a picture for your instagram story. it was an adorable picture with the bakery in the background with the chocolate croissant in hand.

with "just landed" as your caption, you posted it to your close friends story. almost a second later, sunoo request to video call you.

you were welcomed by a piercing shriek into the phone.

"YAH I WAS JUST GREETED BY YOUR PARENTS WHO SAID YOU WERE AT A SLEEPOVER FOR A COUPLE DAYS? SLEEPOVER MY FOOT? YOU'RE IN PARIS-" 

sunoo screeches over the phone and you timidly grimace, turning down the volume as people begin to stare.

"sunoo, i'm currently in a public airport with no earbuds plugged in, can you please STOP screaming?" you whispered audibly to him.

"OH, I FORG- sorry," sunoo sheepishly responds.

"my parents would never let me go this far so i just had to lie that i was going to a sleepover at minji's house which is out of town. plus i'm only going to be here for two days," you consult him.

"you saw me buy the tickets sunoo. why are you scolding me now? shouldn't you have tried to stop me while i was in the middle of buying the tickets?" you added.

"well now i want you to come back, who am i supposed to hang out with for the next 2 days?" 

though it was dark in the setting sunoo was in, you could practically see his pouting face.

"you could hang out with jake? or sunghoon? aren't they both your friends?"

jake and sunghoon went to the same school as sunoo and you're buddies with them. you've known each other since middle school but jake and sunghoon were always closer to each other just like you and sunoo.

"jake and sunghoon hyung are busy on a vacation together in the bahamas"

you stifled a laugh in, "good luck being alone for the next two days."

"not funny (y/n)! besides that point, what if you get caught?"

"don't worry, i won't get caught because you're the only one who knows about this .as long as you don't rat me out sunoo," you scowl at him.

"i won't, i won't, i promise but you have to buy me something? deal?”

you roll your eyes, "deal mr. sunoo-shi, i have to go now. i need to try to find my hotel"

"be safe, love you!"

"i will! love you too"

you sulk after the call ends. without your best friend on your side, you felt a little feeble and lost but it's not time to be pondering like that. 

paris awaits and you couldn't linger at the airport the whole day.

first challenge 

getting to your hotel was a struggling. wandering around a city with no basis of the language besides "hello" and "thank you so much", didn't do enough for you.

first, you had to find a taxi that could converse in english. most people had turned you down as you couldn't speak french.

thankfully, it was a fortunate day and you met this kind lady who had coffee-colored curly locks, gentle chocolate eyes, and light freckles scattered around her face.

"do you speak english?" you crisscrossed your fingers, your legs close to giving out after scrambling for taxi drivers

"yeah, i do mademoiselle! would you like to hop in?" she extended a friendly smile and you had never felt bricks lift off your chest faster.

she opened the back of the taxi and you scouted in, permitting your purse to lay on your lap.

the women examined both directions of the road, looking out for passing cars and entered the driver's seat.

"where are you heading mademoiselle?"

you swiftly pull out your phone to your notes, "hotel le walt paris?"

you corked your eyebrow, making sure it was the right name before she nodded her head. 

"a very famous hotel huh? right near the eiffel tower. i recommend that you wait till it gets dark and sit on the balcony to see the eiffel tower with lights. it's beautiful"

you smiled at the kind words of the lady, "i will surely try that! thank you miss..?"

"elena! elena is fine and you mademoiselle?"

"i'm (y/n)"

"it's nice to meet you"

"likewise"

the entire ride, you felt at some peace finally conversing with someone who understood english,

 after a 30 minute drive, you had arrived at your destination.

feeling a sad departure from this mellow woman, who turned out to be 19 seeking to make some pocket money in the summer, she was one of the first people that you had grown connected with throughout this ride.

"elena, though it was a short time, thank you for keeping company"

you present her with a warm smile as she unlocks the door for you. you exit the taxi, clasping at your phone.

"here, give me your phone."

you softly planted it in elena's hand. you were perplexed about why she showed you your home screen until you realized you had a password.

you enter your password, giving it back to her. she did a bit of clicking and you could see her hands typing something in before returning the phone back to you.

"that's my instagram, stay in contact with me alright?"

you felt the sides of your lips curve into a slight smile. you dragged her into a soft hug.

"thank you elena"

she visibly hesitant before easing into the hug. she softly rubbed your back.

"i have to go, i might get fired if i stay here too long"

you bided her a fare-well. thirty minutes was an extended time to get a know a person.

and that was the first friend you met in france.

second challenge

checking into your hotel wasn't as difficult. most people could speak english and besides the uncanny looks that you received from the clerk, check-in was pretty smooth.

"here you are mademoiselle" the bellman lowers your suitcase in front of your hotel door.

"merci beaucoup,"  you smile and he returns the gesture before leaving you.

you look down in your hand where you are grasping the card tightly. you scan the card against the door meter and it flickers twice. 

red, green

the door clicks before you push on it and reveal your hotel room.

at first glance, your mouth dropped.

the hotel room seemed better than it did on the online photographs which was a rare possibility.

though it was a small room, it was renovated beautifully.

overhead the king-sized bed, there was an extensive painting of the eiffel tower. a blue chair that held a place directly by the bed along with a little wooden table.

the hotel was fine but you definitely weren't

"(y/n) shut down in,"

"3"

"2"

"1"

before thinking, you throw yourself on the bed having the jet-lag kicking in. the bag offers a 'thump' sound as it connects with the ground.

'ouch that hurt'

you fish through your pocket, pulling out your phone. it was hardly twelve pm and you were already fatigued.

what was your strategy? you were in france for two days and you don't have a plan to do anything.

first things first, you needed to sort out this jet-lag.

 1) taking a shower

showers are always a great way to awaken and could shake you from this daze. you endured a scream as your water turned to be ice cold. someone must be utilizing the hot water. that shower unmistakably woke you up

2) skincare

after getting out of the shower, skincare was the secondary way to wake up. cleansing with toner, dropping essence into the skin, and implementing a nice coat of moisturizer to lock-in.

3) fueling with food

food can beat anybody out of slumber if they're fueled with enthusiasm but you didn't have any food on you? that indicates it's time to go out and explore france.

unfastening up your suitcase, you drabble on what you can wear.

reconciling with a simple pair of denim shorts and a light pink tank top, you catch a fast mirror selfie.

being content with the ultimate product, you smile to yourself.

"phone, key, wallet," you whispered, securing the thoughts of having everything. 

everything was arranged to go and it was time to tour paris.

third challenge 

cruising through paris would be by notably the toughest challenge while you were here.

you had your phone to navigate solely with wifi and you couldn't be that favorable to be able to meet people who could speak english all the time. 

you had entered a small restaurant, where you worked to communicate with people in defective french but they moderately understood what you wanted.

after that fiasco trying to order a chicken frricassee, you were able to appreciate your time there along with sending a picture to sunoo who reacted with,

"can that be the souvenir you bring back to me TT?"

you chuckled at the message, knowing typical sunoo, and finished up eating.

eating wasn't the one exclusive thing available in france. there were various activities but you were too afraid to venture any future for the hotel. getting lost too was easy.

that being said, eating after eating all you could do was roam around the city. it was around 2pm and you could spot a diverse crowd of people.

you could see kids. in uniforms that just got out of school or a cute couple that was experiencing their date.

you slightly squint and cover your eyes as the sun is at its highest point.

yes, paris was lovely and you would prefer to travel more but but you didn’ toriginally have a plan

for a couple of hours, you completed wandering around the area where your hotel is. you wished at moments like this that you would have jungwon, sunoo's friend, with you to help navigate you.

 jungwon was also a friend you guys met in middle school but he went to your school. very mature for his age and great at preparation.

before you knew it, the sun had died down and it was time to retreat to the hotel.

'ah right! elena told me to look out at the eiffel tower as it gets darker'

you softly tread back to your hotel, observing the blisters at the back of your foot.

you could clearly sense the entire day of walking take a toll on your body.

you scan your key card and fling your bag to the floor as soon as you get inside. you open up your suitcase to change into suitable sleeping clothes.

you briskly cleansed your face and tied your hair back.

you had approached the balcony, guessing how to cautiously open the glass door.

you gradually shift the handle to the right and the door made a scanty creek. you gingerly put more stress on it, opening the balcony wide.

a distinct gasp could be heard from you.

subsequently taking a step onto your balcony, the frail breeze made you quiver in the long black tee that adorned your top half and the sweatpants that settled on your waist.

the balcony was small, barely able to move besides staying still.

you had peered to your right, glancing at the eiffel tower.

elena was correct. the eiffel tower was breath-taking at night. for the first time when landing in france, you could feel in harmony. below you was a crowded street.

it was only 8 pm yet you could feel your eyes droop as opposed to the bouncy pair of kids that ran through the moobs of people.

the radiant yellowish glow of the eiffel tower was able to save you from dozing off. you softly hum 'fly me to the moon,'

'fly me to the moon,' didn't have significance, it felt appropriate in the second.

you hadn't regarded it but a figure had gently peeked out of the other balcony, attentively listening to the silky melody that you were humming.

"nice song"

a voice interrupts and your humming had come to a halt, eyes widened.

you had turned to the origin of the voice and discovered the culprit

the balcony alongside you.

"thank you"

you glanced over, granting him a slight smile before he returns it.

"new to paris?"

he questioned, now you guys facing each other.

"yeah, just arrived this morning, and you?"

you asked before he softly smiles.

"not really, i've been here multiple times but the feeling is something i'll get used too."

you hum as a response

"how did you know to speak english to me? do i really act like a foriegner?"

you were growing more drowsy but this stranger was fascinating. who else could say they met someone and talked to them from a balcony romance?

"english song, random guess"

you nodded your head, not certain if he could see you but that was all you could muster up.

there grows stillness beside the bustling street below until the stranger breaks it.

"i know this sounds weird but since you're new here, would you like to go out with me tomorrow to travel the city?"

that question felt like ice water was just splashed onto your face. the proposal startled you. 

the stranger didn't appear like a bad person. been to paris varied times, can acknowledge good music and good at conversation.

as much as this stranger flatter you, how could you trust him?

"as much as i would love to, how do i know that you're not trying to kidnap me, even worse, kill me?"

he stifles a laugh.

"hey knock it off, this is a very serious question, balcony boy"

you snicker, desiring to know the answer than anticipated.

"i promise you that i won't try to kidnap OR kill you. i'm just offering and you can even pat me down before we go out together."

this was by far one of the most peculiar offers you had received but this was THE stranger offer you came to france seeking.

you know sunoo would not advocate for numerous reasons and you can hear his voice already 

"number one, dangerous"

"number two, dangerous!"

"number three, DANGEROUS!"

but sunoo isn't here right now. you chose to grab the opportunity. france had provided you luck today.

"alright then"

a moment of silence goes by before you hear him clearing his throat.

"you're serious right?"

he glances at you and your eyes lock. though you can't see that well due to the absence of light, you nod.

the eiffel tower gave you enough light that you could make our curious eyes, tall nose, fair skin that radiated in the soft lighting, and full lips that were curved into a smile

"i'll see you at the lobby at eight,"

next morning

to say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. you agreed to a stranger who claimed to know paris like the back of his palm. you met him off your balcony and now you were agreeing to go a date with him? 

"you must be out of your mind!" sunoo exclaimed through the phone.

"well yes i must have been at 8 pm last night when fatigue was hitting the hardest but how can i say no now?"

"i don't know maybe, I DON'T KNOW YOU STRANGER DANGER?" sunoo shouts

and like you foretold last night, sunoo was not a big supporter of this idea. over the course of fifteen minutes, you had been continuously scolded by him.

you cringe, " sunoo, i promise that i'll be fine. i just need you to help me pick out an outfit"

sunoo rolls his eyes, "what are your options?"

though sunoo wasn't supportive of this, he couldn't let you go on a date without style.

you held up two choices; a blue floral dress that settled to your mid-thigh and a pink tennis skirt with a white cami shirt.

"well do we like this guy or do we like LIKE this guy?" sunoo questioned.

"what- well i literally met him last night? so i don't even like him, we're just going out for this one day since he offered"

"uh-huh, then the blue floral dress, it's hot there right?" sunoo says

"super hot," you groan.

you glance at the time, 7:00 am.

"i have to start getting ready sunoo, i'll update you later alright?" you smile

"alright, try not to get killed but have fun too! love you"

"love you too," you say back before hanging up.

you quickly hop in the shower and make sure to not take too long.

doing skincare, putting on the outfit, and spraying a little bit of perfume, you are ready to head out the door.

one last check to make sure you have all the things.

7:58 am

you quickly head down to see several people in the lobby.

a bellman, a pair of teenage girls who seemed like they were dragged here, a couple around the mid-40s trying to check-in, and a teenage boy that rested on one of the lobby seats.

it was evident who the balcony boy was but you just called out to be safe.

"balcony boy," you say.

the teenage boy that was seated turns around before flashing you a smile. 

"miss singer,"

you airly chuckle at the nickname.

observing him in person was a lot different. you could see his long body proportion, bright eyes, sharp jawline, with fair skin that complimented his rich brown hair.

a distinct experience from seeing him on the balcony.

"i'm (y/n)! and you?" you ask

"i'm lee heeseung"

[birdwonder]

headcanon the joestars on how they would react to an artist s/o like always painting, drawing and giving them like a painting of them they worked on?? thank u 💕

|| I don’t do part 5 or further requests yet, and I’m taking Joestars as in the Jojo’s, but I think I know Giorno somewhat enough to throw him in ! Also, cuuute request.

Part 1-5 Jojo’s | Artist S/O Headcanons 

Jonathan Joestar

- As one would expect, he is incredibly supportive of your talent! All of your family/couple portraits are hung up in the hallways and even a few landscape ones too to keep things looking lively. His favourite above all favourites would go above the fire place however, which is probably a painting of the two of you that you had gifted him on your anniversary.

- He cherishes it more than most possessions he owns, and when he’s warming up by the crackling flames, he can’t help but smile at it. That’s your hard work and your effort up there, and any house guests will know it as soon as he shows it to them. 

- Honestly, he doesn’t want to request anything from you as he feels as though anything that you gift him that comes from your mind and heart alone is far more valuable to him. Besides, he wouldn’t really know what to ask for aside from another portrait of you to hang somewhere that wasn’t taken up.

- During the spring and summer seasons, you take the time to set up an easel, canvas and paint set in the garden to have some fresh air and gather new inspiration. Even if you haven’t even gotten far into the piece, Jonathan will eventually come out the house with two cups of tea and stand behind you, bending down to lightly kiss your temple as he’s afraid anything more passionate would interrupt your creative process or cause your finger to slip. He would then ask for you to take a break and sit with him at a table to enjoy the view together, so the two of you can talk about your future painting plans and how his studies in archeology are going. Mutual respect for each other’s interests is an essential ingredient in any relationship.

- “Oh, look at your hands! No matter, we’ll just have to wash them once we’re inside,” is something he says before you realise that a tea cup you were holding had been smudged with a variety of green’s and blue’s from your fingertips. You apologise profusely in which he shakes his head at with a chuckle. “It’s alright, my love. I think it makes them look far more unique now! No china set in the world could look like this.”

- Skip 100 years into the future and your paintings may be in a gallery with a small “to Jonathan” written in the corner.

Joseph Joestar

- Definition of “Paint me like one of your french girls.~”

- Definitely suggests a nude painting of him. Or you. Or the two of you together, whether it be a joke or he’s somewhat serious.

- He’s amazed by your talent! Including your patience. He probably wouldn’t be able to sit still for long enough to even paint an abstract tree, so he has nothing but respect for your artistry. 

-If you were to ever gift him a drawing, he’d be stunned. Does he even deserve to own one of your pieces? Was this a declaration of love? Because he’s accepting it with a hard kiss to your lips and a string of ‘thank you’’s and compliments.

- One day, you had a serious artist block and had no idea what to paint leaving you stumped and staring at a blank canvas in despair. The lack of spark in your eyes that you usually had when painting hurt Joseph, so as a foolish attempt to help, he grabbed a bottle of one of your haunts and squirted it all over his hand.

- You gasped in response, about to scold him on the price of the paints when he suddenly slapped it smack middle of the canvas. “Joseph! Those cost a lot!”

- “Yeah but it’s fun! C’mon try it! Get your creative juices flowing or whatever you art folk say!” Taking your hand, he squirted a different colour onto it which made you giggle cutely as the cold sensation. He then guided it next to his bright hand print, pressing your palm down.

- It looked adorable and gave you an idea.

- With a smile, and a promise from Joseph that he’d buy you more paint later, the two of began to spread more paints onto your hands and continued to cover the canvas mindlessly with your prints.

- By the end of it, the two of who are laughing and even smearing paint on each other’s faces, leading to some squeals and hilarious facial features. 

- Sure, it wasn’t want you had initially wanted to go for, but with a carefully painted on “Joseph and [F/N]” written underneath the first two handprints that were made, you knew that the sentimental value of the piece was far greater than anything else you could have made.

Jotaro Kujo

- He has no reason to be against your talent and doesn’t have enough words and facial expressions to his name to show how impressed he is with you.

- Though that slightly changes when you hand him your sketch book one day, a bashful look on your face as you fear for the worst reaction from him.

- Inside are a multitude of sketches and even fine lined pieces of him, some with and without Star Platinum if you can see him, all carefully and accurately drawn in your own style. You even remembered to add the pin on his hat and his earrings...

- Jotaro could only blush brightly and cough into his hand to compose himself. “It’s good... I like it.” An understatement really, because if you let him keep even a page, he’ll be sure to keep it safe somewhere but no where obvious so his mother or grandfather don’t tease him for it. 

- If you ask him to pose for anything, he’ll want to decline and might even do so the first few times, though with some begging he may do some poses in your home, with the assurance that no one will barge in. Only casual ones though, so he doesn’t have to strain or embarrass himself.

- Buying presents for you is considerably easy as there’s always some sort of pen or paint set he can get to add to your wide range of media, all of which you are grateful for and gush over even though you tell him that buying them is unnecessary.

- “Have you considered doing an art major?” If you say yes, he supports you completely but warns you of the stresses and the harsh reality of the art world when it came to work.

Josuke Higashikata

- Ooh, is he going to show you off.

- “Yo Rohan Sensei! Sure you can draw that manga of your’s but can you draw THIS?”

- He might get killed or have his destiny rewritten by a certain stand user, but he knows it’s worth it when it comes to you. Have you seen your own art? It’s incredible !

- Most likely, he finds out by seeing you doodle in class and his jaw completely drops that your maths work sheet was instead covered in drawings of amazing bodies and plant life. If you insist that they’re nothing and “they’re just sketches,” he will personally shake you senseless and talk your ear off telling you that they are amazing. 

- Gifting him any kind of artistic media makes him overjoyed. Josuke shoves it in Okuyasu’s face, much to the delinquent’s dismay, and hugs you to death for the gift. “Aw babe, you really didn’t have to!”

- If you’re ever stressing over the quality of your work, he reminds you that you are amazing at what you do and that everyone has their own style, so that comparing yourself to others just wasn’t fair on you. 

- He plays a personal game where each day he tries to guess how much pen or paint you have your hand by the end of the day. Usually on weekends, it’s a lot more.

Giorno Giovanna 

- There’s a good chance that you met because of your work.

- You’re in a particularly beautiful Italian city, either sitting on a stool or ledge with a canvas or book in front of you, your hand working away at the landscape before you.

- While he was on a relaxing stroll, Giorno stopped behind you and peered over your shoulder, his breath taken away by how accurate your piece was to every exact detail.

- “Bellissimo...” He whispered, causing you to jolt a little and quickly turn around to look at him, a flushed or embarrassed look on your face. Oh, you’re cute.

- Right after he apologised for startling you and praises you for your work, which only flusters you more that such a handsome boy was complimenting you, you offered for him to sit next to you. Perhaps for you to even draw him?

- He doesn’t refuse.

- Once you’re dating, he takes you wherever you want whenever he can so you can draw the scenery, and shows you more gorgeous places to draw and even suggests what sort of people to draw. He also supports you doing something out of your comfort zone, for example if you typically liked to only sketch, he’d suggest for you to paint or use chalk in another style to see if it improves your skill as a whole.

- When he’s a don, he asks for you to paint or draw him so that he can hang it somewhere in an expensive frame to make his work place appear more serious and clear that he was the boss.

- If you do so, he thanks you a hundred times and buys you anything you want and as much as you want. Giorno also makes sure to repay you physically with a night out and kisses with a goodnight cuddle. 

- He might keep a small sketch of the two of you in his inside jacket pocket or draw so that every time he took it out during work, he’d be reminded of you and how you met, which motivated him to get the job done quick so he could go home to see you.

[chat-noir-always-here]

“Hey Arnold!” and “Miraculous!” parallels

Ever have an idea for a post that you take forever to get around to because 2020 is 

actively 

trying

to kill you?!

 Welp, that’s me. I mean, uh, this is that post.

Long post is long and I don’t like cuts cuz I’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” I use it for walls of text like these.

So there’s this show from my childhood called Hey Arnold! 

Having been on air before I had cable (I and my unsupervised brothers and sisters spent our childhood watching Jerry Springer and Maury because there was literally nothing else on our cheap little TV. How hilarious is that?) I didn’t really have much of an experience with Hey Arnold! aside from brief little glances at it when i visited a friends home or the rare occasion where they showed cartoons at school. By the time I got satellite, the show was no longer on the air save for some late night reruns and the Christmas special which aired in December along with other Nickelodeon Christmas episodes (THE best Christmas episode EVER btw).

Really I couldn’t remember much about it until hearing about the Jungle Movie finally getting a release date (a total flop but at least its no cliff hanger) and decided to re-watch the entire series in preparation for said movie.

By which point I had discovered another show—Miraculous. 

At first glance the two shows have absolutely nothing in common. Miraculous being a French-born mahou shoujo-esque CGI superhero TV series about a couple of middle schoolers who regularly battle a walking peppermint-frappucino-looking psychopath. Hey Arnold! being a more realistic children’s sitcom about a young football-headed boy who deals out humanitarian aid in the form of advice and simple good deeds to his neighbors, classmates and friends. 

In terms of setting, logic, and animation the two series are as different as night and day.

So imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a whole post’s worth of parallels shared between the two shows???

And here they are in no particular order:

1)Arnold’s Parents/Adrien’s mom

Prior to the start of Miraculous, Emilie Agreste disappeared under mysterious circumstances leaving her family behind. Later on it was revealed that she was in fact sleeping (dead?) in a glass coffin beneath the Agreste mansion--unbeknownst to Adrien, or anyone else in Paris save for Gabriel and Nathalie.

In a similar fashion, Arnold’s parents, Miles and Stella, also disappeared prior to the start of Hey Arnold! and like Emilie were always referred to as “missing” rather than “dead.” 

The Jungle Movie later revealed Miles and Stella weren’t dead, but like Emilie appears to be doing in her coffin, they were sleeping. Having caught a bout of sleeping sickness (apparently they do not need to be hooked up to IVs or other medical devices while in a comatose state cuz fuck logic) they simply needed their orphaned son to come and cure them with the help of the magical golden heart Helga provided him with.

Perhaps Mari holds the key to waking Emilie? That would be nice to see. 

Not the miraculous of course--but some other key.

Although personally I’m hoping for a hardcore, devastating ending like Emilie dying, Gabriel going to prison where he belongs, and Adrien leaving the country for a bit until the second Hawk Moth shows up because I just like devastating cliffhangers and angst and being in utter turmoil over fictional people. But that’s just me.

2) Their best friends are dating

Smol parallel here: Arnold’s best friend Gerald and Helga’s Best friend Phoebe wind up together in The Jungle Movie after being imprisoned together by Lasombra. Similar to how Nino and Alya ended up together after being imprisoned by Ladybug (for their protection, of course).

3) The Bag of Money Episode/ The Ladybug episode

OOh boy both of these episodes make me rage. 

Some context about the Bag of Money episode: Arnold and his friends Gerald and Sid find a random bag of money containing almost $4000. Sid is ecstatic and wants to split the money evenly between the three boys, but Arnold worries it could just be lost and convinces them to let him, Arnold, take the money to the police station. On the way he accidentally switches the bag with another one that is identical and contains a bunch of useless junk, and when he tries to explain what happened to his friends they don’t believe him because their bag of money was accidentally taken by an “old lady with pink hair and a peg leg.”

 Arnold’s a good boy and he’s telling the truth--but the truth sounds crazy, even to my ears. Sid accuses Arnold of stealing the money and spreads lies to their classmates, whom Arnold has spent the ENTIRE SERIES helping in some form or fashion. Despite everything he’s done for them though, the vast majority of the class come to believe Arnold is a thief. Even Gerald, Arnold’s closest friend, nearly believes Sid over Arnold but eventually comes to Arnold’s defense. The other kids (save for Helga who doesn’t really make an appearance this episode) gang up on Arnold, but thankfully the old lady with pink hair and a peg leg shows up with an officer and together they explain the bag of money is now at the lost and found where it will remain and if gone unclaimed will be returned to Arnold, Gerald and Sid. 

Pretty much everything is resolved and things return to normal between the kids. 

But I hate this episode. I hate this episode so, so much. Arnold has spent the entire series helping these people out in some form or fashion. Literally thats the entire show. And after everything he’s done for them they’re so. Quick. To. Turn. On. Him. 

Sound familiar???

4) Hidden Personality                   vs.          Surface Personality

 I do not refer to the cruddy “true selves” thing half the Miraculous fandom believes in. Depending on one’s individual circumstances, environment and how comfortable they are, said person’s behavior can fluctuate or even do a complete 180. This can be kinda frustrating when dealing on one’s own--”Who am I anyway? Is that me or is this me???”

It’s all you, fam.

Arnold and Helga are themselves too, no matter what metaphorical/actual mask they put on. There’s the side that everyone sees and then there’s the side almost no one sees. The hidden personality isn’t hidden due to a lack of trust, necessarily, but rather it is the result of retreating to their respective “shells”--ones which both Arnold and Helga were kinda punched, kicked, and shoved into. 

Helga’s surface personality: Class bully, puts up a tough front, constantly torments Arnold because she can’t stand him and his niceness

Helga’s hidden personality: Poetic, abused and isolated, is in love with Arnold to the point of being obsessed with him and bullies him via surface personality in order to hide that fact

Of course Adrien is no bully--his reasons for not being the “cunning, funny, ultra-charming Chat Noir” 24/7 DOES have a lot to do with his toxic household, his dad, and the overwhelming expectations which are constantly smothering him as Adrien. 

Adrien is a bug under a magnifying glass (or so he feels)

Chat Noir is a chance for a freedom.

 Adrien’s surface personality was molded by his dad.

 Helga’s is the result of her entire family. Her father is brash and loud, her mother is a confirmed alcoholic, her sister is a gifted prodigy, well-rounded and spends most of the series at university or elsewhere. Although her sister, Olga, has been shown to genuinely care for Helga, Olga is kinda the reason their parents neglect Helga. With their first daughter being the genius and prodigy she is, Helga’s parents poured all of their pride and affection and parental devotion onto her. Meanwhile Helga had to walk to pre-school alone. At four years old. In the rain. Not for the last time. 

Which leads me to the next parallel.

5) Umbrella in the Rain

squeals in delight over this parallel<3<3<3

If you’ve never seen Hey Arnold! do yourselves a favor and watch this short little clip over how Helga and Arnold first met. If you have seen it, watch it anyway because it is the most adorable clip in the entire show.

Dr. Bliss: “So nobody’s ever noticed you?”

Helga: “...There was someone.”

The soft way Helga confesses that--you can actually hear how grateful she is to have such a tender memory from such a painful time. 

 In a similar manner, Adrien offered his umbrella to Marinette. Of course Adrien did it because Mari had to walk home in the rain and Arnold did it as a simple gesture of kindness (seeing as they were already at the school)--one of the many kind acts he displays throughout the series. 

 But just like Adrien needed unconditional love coming from somewhere, so did Helga. They were both denied this one common necessity which everyone else around them had. It’s not a lot to ask for, and they should’ve already had it coming from their families--but they didn’t.

 And then, one rainy day, there it was--the unconditional love they needed.

6) Clinginess

What happens when you take someone, specifically a love-starved abused child from an unstable home environment--deprived of the one thing most crucial to their mental well-being--and miraculously provide them with that very necessity? 

Clinginess. 

I can’t really think of the correct word to describe this. “Clinginess” is pretty close to what I’m trying to describe, if not on point, so let’s go with that. 

 What I mean is Helga and Adrien both need Arnold and Ladybug respectively. That’s not a bad thing--it’s okay to need somebody else. What’s bad is hinging your entire being on this one connection. For if either kiddo were to be left behind they wouldn’t handle it very well.

 It can’t really be helped with either Helga or Adrien. They didn’t really have the option to learn certain things and went deprived of unconditional love for such a long time. They’re kids--nine and fourteen/fifteen respectively. They’re not perfect and they’re traumatized for life. Being denied love from your family--the very people designed to love you--would do that to a person. Naturally they would cling to the first people to show up and provide them with the love they needed. 

 The Hey Arnold! wiki says this about Helga and Arnold’s relationship

Due to her unstable family upbringing where both her mother and father constantly neglect [Helga] and shower all of their attention onto Olga, leaving her deprived of the love and attention she needed growing up. On her way to preschool, Arnold helped her by keeping the rain off her with an umbrella and even complimented her on her hairbow. He even later gave her crackers during their snack time. Arnold's kindness and being the first person to notice her quickly caused Helga to transfer all of her love and attention to Arnold.

Of course Adrien’s tunnel vision isn’t quite as bad as Helga’s.

 He treats his friends better.

 He does love his father--

Even though his father is THE. 

WORST.

 PARENT.

 EVER!!!

--because he’s Adrien and he’s just too precious a cinnamon roll and that’s still his dad even if the man does belong behind bars.

7) Unhealthy Obsession

I--

I...

Ugh. I am not going to delve too far into this. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Helga’s creepy stalker behavior is a thousand times worse than Marinette’s. That pic up there of Helga hiding out in Arnold’s room watching him is pretty decent evidence to back up my argument, but it’s hardly the only example or even the worst incident.

 Honestly I’m amazed at what Nicktoons were able to get away with in the late nineties/early 2000s. 

But yes, Helga’s obsession with Arnold is rather unhealthy in the most extreme moments leading her to display behavior which is more often than not disturbing and concerning. 

The Hey Arnold! wiki has this to say about Helga’s obsession with Arnold

Helga is possessive of her love for Arnold and thinks non-stop about him to the point of obsession. This is evidenced throughout the series by the many shrines and poems she makes of Arnold and of her frequent dramatic soliloquies about her love for Arnold.

Again--Mari isn’t as bad as all that. She’s a sweet girl with many healthy relationships in her life. She has ambition, creativity, and drive. But yeah she can be rather possessive of Adrien too, and that needs to stop. Like right now. Adrien doesn’t need another girl being possessive of him and thinking he’s perfect--he needs someone who acknowledges him as a flawed person and loves him despite that. 

As for Helga and Arnold--show creator Craig Bartlett confirmed they are “made for each other” and wind up married with three kids, so I’m guessing Helga grew out of some of these bad habits? Or at least I hope so...

8) Helper/Humanitarian tendencies

As mentioned before, the plot of Hey Arnold! is more or less about Arnold helping people. As stated by Gerald in The Jungle Movie, “He’s a humanitarian! Like his parents!” Of course not every episode is about Arnold helping people. There are episodes devoted to supporting characters and they’re just as enjoyable and satisfying. 

 But as he is the titular character he spends a lot of time in the spotlight. 

Remember that “best christmas special EVER” episode I mentioned before?

 The reason it’s the best special, in my less than humble opinion, is due to a few things.

 The special is not about Santa Claws. In fact, I don’t think he’s even mentioned, let alone shown and treated like an actual living character.

The focus on the entire episode is again on Arnold helping someone, but he doesn’t succeed. Not really.

The one who succeeded in helping someone was Helga, who accomplished the goal Arnold had set out to do. 

The episode deals with some rather dark subject matter and is actually quite heartwarming as the “perfect present” Arnold was trying to provide someone with wasn’t something you can buy in the store

It’s also one of the episodes where Helga’s love for Arnold leaves her to do good and as her love for him is a secret, she expects nothing in return. She’s just happy to help him.

 Kinda similar to Mari who is, as Adrien puts it in Mayura, “Our every day Ladybug.” Her kindness and devotion to helping others is what drives her as Ladybug and Marinette. It’s what brought Ivan and Mylene together. Is the reason Nathaniel and Mark now have a comic book together. And at the end of the day, that’s the reason for her strange behavior around Adrien--she wants to help him. Even if it’s just as a “good friend.” 

9) There are two main characters

Although Hey Arnold! is technically a show about Arnold, one could argue it is just as much Helga’s story. 

Similarly, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is named thusly in order to convey the fact that Adrien is just as much a main character as Marinette is. 

Although I must say Hey Arnold! did a much better job of giving it’s co-character their dues. GIVE. ME. MORE. CHAT NOIR. FOCUSED. EPISODES. DAMMIT.

But, yes, in terms of screen time, Helga gets about as much as Arnold does. Her story and struggles were given just as much importance as Arnold’s and many people have even come to believe that the show is really about Helga. I’d say its about both of them.

10) Constantly bumping into each other

Granted this happens between Arnold and Helga more often than it does to the love square dorks. 

 But yes the two people meant to be together keep knocking into each other in their respective universes. 

 I forget who, but I remember reading that someone a while back theorized that this was the universe’s way of trying to push Arnold and Helga together. Kinda like the “Now kiss!” meme

Perhaps it’s the same for Adrien and Marinette? 

;)

[languageek]

Tips I’ve Learned from Relearning my Second First Language

This is really important, to me, and maybe to you, too. 

But first, here’s some background info on me and bilingualism in general:

I grew up speaking Japanese and English and started speaking them as a baby at the same time (simultaneous bilingual). Some of you may have learned one after the other (sequential bilingual). 

I grew up speaking Japanese because my grandma mostly raised me, and she’s Japanese. So through her, I learned Japanese. This is my heritage language. Another example, a common heritage language in California (USA) is Spanish, and I have friends who grew up speaking Vietnamese and Tagalog. 

By definition (for ease, through Wikipedia), a heritage language is is a minority language (either immigrant or indigenous) learnt by its speakers at home as children, but never fully developed because of insufficient input from the social environment. 

People who speak a heritage language range in their skillset: some speakers are more fluent than others, and some can only understand. Some may know how to read and write, but many don’t. Everyone is different. 

The past couple months, at 25 years old, I decided I wanted to start trying to learn Japanese again. Before starting to study it more actively, I could understand Japanese pretty easily, minimal ability to speak, read, and write (hiragana was the easiest, followed by katakana and some kanji). When I was younger, I attended Japanese school on Saturdays, which is where I learned to read and write. 

I had tried many many many times before to learn Japanese again, but I failed every time. 

Here are some things I wish I would have realized earlier:

 1. You can’t rely on passive skills to study if you want to improve your active skills 

Passive skills: Listening comprehension, reading Active skills: Speaking, writing 

Active skills focus on the production of language. For the longest time I wasn’t improving these skills because I thought that I could improve them by listening to more things in Japanese: TV shows, songs, YouTube videos, listening to my family speak. 

But why would that work if I’ve been listening to my grandma speak to me in Japanese for 25 years of my life and I didn’t gain any active skills from that? 

In order to gain improve your active skills, you have to practice by using your active skills. 

I know, if you don’t speak a heritage language and are reading this, you might think DUH! I learned Portuguese and the only way to get good at speaking it is to speak it. I don’t think I realized this was the case with my Japanese because I already had an “in.” But this still applies. I had to speak and write more in order to be able to, well, speak and write more. 

2. You have to try 

You grew up speaking another language. It’s a special gift. But if you’re lacking in certain skills, you still have to work to try and strengthen those skills. 

A couple years ago, I went back to study at my Japanese school as an adult because I thought it would help. It kind of did, but not really... 

I TRICKED MYSELF into thinking I understood all the material because I could understand everything the teacher was saying, when in reality I wasn’t able to retain the kanji or the syntactic structures I was learning. 

By tricking myself into THINKING I knew things, I sabotaged my own learning experience. 

You have to try, and you have to really want to learn it because already knowing parts of the language have the potential to hold you back. 

3. Use what gave you the language to your advantage

Don’t “use” them, but you know what I mean. 

For the longest time (childhood into recent adulthood), I was too embarrassed to use Japanese with my mom and grandma. I would only routinely use a select amount of phrases that I felt comfortable using, even if my grandma was speaking to me in Japanese. 

My mom would always say “You have the best resources around you, practice your Japanese while you can.” 

And while sometimes what parents say can be annoying, my mom was right. 

But it took a HUGE change in my life to realize this and take action. 

When I was 23, my grandma went back to live in Japan. It was an emotional and difficult time for me because I was so used to having her around. While she was living with my family, we learned to communicate in a mix of Japanese-English, and I expressed my gratitude for her by doing housework for her, or buying her things at the grocery store or brought her desserts after going out to eat with friends. 

But her moving across the world meant that I couldn’t do these things anymore. A couple days before her departure, I decided that I would try and write her a letter in Japanese and slip it in her backpack for when she arrived in Japan. 

Let me tell you, I had THE MOST difficult time writing that letter. I couldn’t express how much appreciated her because my Japanese sucked. And I hated that I couldn’t tell her that in her own language. 

So after she moved to Japan, I started to write her letters--*practicing those active skills though!!! 

By being able to write letters with my grandma, not only was I practicing my Japanese, but I was creating a relationship with my grandma that I had never had before. I knew that I would regret it if I didn’t talk to her more before she’s gone. Which is sad, but it’s reality. 

And let me tell you. I’ve improved a lot. 

I can think in Japanese now. It may not be perfect, but I know how to structure my sentences. Words are coming more easily to my brain now. I can communicate with my grandma. 

4. It’s never too late

I considered late high school/early college the prime of my language learning career. I got myself to a decent level of Spanish, I learned Portuguese, I took classes in Mandarin and French. 

But for some reason, I thought my Japanese was always DOOMED because it was just way. too. hard. for. me. to. learn. 

Japanese is hard. But it’s not impossible. 

I realized that at 25. It’s never too late to learn a language, but it’s also never too late to try and relearn a language you were familiar with before. 

Just take it one step at a time. 

I always thought Japanese was overwhelming because I KNEW how difficult it was. I thought about everything--kanji, onyomi and kunyomi, all the sentence structures and everything all at once. This freaked me out and made me think I could never learn it. 

But if you learn it little by little, it’s not as overwhelming. 

# 

That’s pretty much all the major points of things I wish I realized earlier when it came to studying Japanese. 

Language is something I’ve been interested in for a long time in terms of academics, so Japanese is naturally, important to me as a language. For other heritage language speakers, it might be more of the food that’s important, or cultural aspects, or other parts of their heritage that is important. 

Everyone is different. 

But this was for you, heritage language speaker, if you needed a little push. 

[kandoesfanfics-writes]

And I totally see 190 with mari and dick. But I've put in a lot of requests and i know each one takes a lot of your time and effort, so feel free to ignore me

This is my first attempt at Dickinette finished at like 2am. I hope I have served you all well.

-------------------

Dick was extremely worried about the petite young lady at the end of the bar.

The dark haired girl had been drinking by herself for about an hour, and the longer she sat there, the sadder she appeared. Her eyes were dim, focused on the drink in front of her. Her skin was flushed, most likely from the alcohol. She was wearing a pink babydoll dress that accented her delicate curves. She had white stockings and black ballet flats. Her hair was loose, cascading past her shoulders.

She looked so sad.

Dick sighed deeply side eyeing Wally and Roy. The two red-heads were laughing and downing their own drinks. It looked like those two were already well on their way to being wasted. Dick was a little irritated as it had been his best friends’ idea to take him out drinking. It was supposed to help him get over Starfire…

The Tameranean had broke up with Dick a few months ago. The man was mostly over it, but it still stung. They’d been dating since they were teenagers. They used to get along almost perfectly, but things had changed as they grew up. Dick was no longer Robin. Dick was Nightwing now, and with the new mantle came new problems.

Starfire herself was dealing with her own developing issues as a member of the Tamaranean royal family. Kor’i refused to abandon her responsibilities, and Dick could respect that. She knew Dick wouldn’t abandon his responsibilities either, so that spelt the end for their relationship. Kor’i told him she would always treasure their time together, and that he would always be one of her best friends.

She’d left for Tameran shortly afterword.

Wally and Roy had gotten tired of Dick’s moping, so they had dedicated the last few weeks to pulling him out of his funk. This was the fifth bar this week, and Dick was getting exasperated. He had let himself be sad, and now he was accepting what was and began to move on. He appreciated his friends for wanting to cheer him up, but Dick did need some alone time.

Which brought him back to the little lady at the end of the bar.

She was all alone and appeared to be intoxicated. She was vulnerable and attracting attention. A few men had bought her drinks, though she hadn’t touched them, ordering her own instead. Dick was relieved to see she still had that much sense, but the more she drank, the more men that gathered around her. It made Dick’s instincts scream at him to do something, anything, to help her.

Dick decided to go over and invite her to sit with them. If she turned that down, Dick would volunteer to order her an Uber to take her home. He just couldn’t leave her sitting at the end of the bar by herself with the wolves waiting to devour her. Dick noted that neither Roy nor Wally noticed him slipping away, so he grabbed his jacket and walked over to her.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a small smile. “...are you doing okay?”

The woman turned, and Dick felt his breath catch in his throat. Her eyes were a gorgeous slate grey filled with unshed tears. She had a cute button nose with a splattering of light freckles across the bridge. She was frowning, petal pink lips drawn thin as if she were trying not to burst out crying. He saw the tears begin to build up as she looked at him once before biting, “Do people go to a bar if they’re okay?”

Dick winced, but tried not to take it personally. She was clearly upset about something, and he was certain all the extra male attention wasn’t making her mood any better. She probably just wanted to be left alone to drown her sorrows in peace. Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t how Gotham worked. A pretty lady like her drinking alone could only spell disaster.

“Well, my two buddies are here, and their lives are most certainly fine,” he said, pointing a finger to the two intoxicated red-heads. “They dragged me here because they think I’m miserable.”

“Why would they think that?” she said, her accent coming out.

Huh, so she was French? That would explain why she didn’t seem to realize how dangerous Gotham was.

“My girlfriend and I broke up. We’d been dating since we were around fourteen,” Dick answered honestly. “Kor’i had family problems, and I had my own responsibilities. In the end, it just didn’t work out. I was sad for a little bit, but she was right. We couldn’t compromise...I just miss her. She’d been a constant presence in my life for the better part of seven years, after all.”

That seemed to reach the woman, who had now put her glass of wine down. She was no longer looking at him with hostility, but something else. It wasn’t a look of pity. Dick knew the difference between looks of pity and genuine empathy. The dark haired woman rubbed her arms before gesturing to the open seat next to her. She then smiled bitterly at him before sighing, “Love sucks, doesn’t it? My boyfriend never loved me for me. He cheated on me.”

Dick looked apologetic as he sat down next to her. He held out his hand and said, “Richard, it’s nice to meet you. My friends call me Dick.”

Her delicate hand reached out to grab his. Dick marveled at how small her fingers were in comparison to his. They were soft, but definitely did not lack strength. Her handshake was surprisingly firm for such a small woman.“Marinette,” she said. “I don’t have any friends.”

“I doubt that,” Dick replied. “Everyone has friends.”

“Not me.”

Dick lifted his hand to get the bartender’s attention. He ordered a glass of semi-dry red wine and took a sip.

“Like I said already, my buddies brought me here. The red-head who looks like he could toss a man is Roy. His adopted father and my adopted father are business rivals, so we hung out a lot growing up. The other red-head who’s giggling like a nut is Wally. He’s a real jokester, but he’s one of the most reliable friends I have,” he said. “I’m currently working at Wayne Enterprises, but I’m trying to get a different job.”

“Don’t like it there?” Marinette asked softly.

“...I had a fight with my adopted father,” he admitted with a shrug. “It’s his company…”

“So you don’t want to work there any more,” she said with a firm nod. “That’s understandable. I left Paris to get away.”

“Away from what?”

Marinette seemed to glance anxiously at him before tossing her wine glass back and chugging the contents. Once she was done, she began to tell him about her life in Paris. She started with explaining that her parents, while loving and supportive individuals, had given her freedom to the point of neglect as a child. She told him that she still loved her parents and knew they loved her, but that was the reason she’d had such a hard time asking them for help with things.

Marinette moved on to discuss how she’d had a few friends growing up as a child. She told him that she realized that she’d had fewer friends than she thought when a girl named Lila Rossi came to her lycee. The young woman went on to discuss how things had gotten terrible. Most of her friends had turned their back on her the second this Lila girl began spreading her lies. There had been only a handful of people who knew the girl was lying.

That had caused so much on strain on many of her relationships in which was only made worse by how much work Marinette was doing. Marinette had been her class’s president which was a lot of work. Her one friend had quit as her deputy after being pulled in by this Lila girl’s lies. This had left Marinette alone to do all of the work for her class.

“Not to mention all my commissions, things were goddamn nightmare,” Marinette said, quietly thanking the bartender for her new glass of wine. “Commissions? Are you an artist?” Dick asked.

Marinette seemed to light up at that.

“I’m actually a budding fashion designer!” she said brightly. “I’ve been doing it since I was young. I actually made the dress I’m wearing right now.”

Dick’s eyes scanned her dress more closely this time.

“That’s really impressive,” Dick said. “That looks like hand stitching! The embroidery on the neckline is gorgeous. Did you really sew this all by hand?”

Marinette nodded excitedly, telling Dick it had taken her only a few days to make. She went on to discuss how she’d been trying to establish her brand in the United States for a few months, but progress had been slow.

“I love designing and creating things,” Marinette said sweetly.

“Really? I’d love to see some more of your designs! Do you just design women’s dresses or do you make more?” he asked.

Marinette suddenly went very quiet. Her grip on her drink tightened before her eyes welled up with tears once again. The tears began to drip down her cheeks as her body began to tremble. She sniffed a few times before chugging the rest of her wine. It took everything in her not to slam the glass down on the counter as all the emotions she’d tried to suppress came rushing to the surface.

“...what did I do wrong?”

Dick felt himself start to panic as he saw the woman’s reaction. He hadn’t meant to make her cry! He was supposed to be making her feel better! He rushed to try and think of a way to change the subject when she asked her question. He watched in horror as she began to dissolve into tears, reaching out gently to touch her arm.

“...what did I do wrong? I did everything he’d asked of me. I was honest. I never cheated. I never—” she cried. “Why couldn’t he love me for me?”

The dark haired man gently scooched his chair closer to Marinette. He then wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, pulling her close in a show of support. He listened to her cry, feeling his own anger stirring. He was enraged to think that her model would date her just because he figured out she was someone he looked up to! If he didn’t love Marinette as herself, why would he want to date her after learning she was a famous designer?

“Honestly, sounds like you didn’t do anything wrong,” Dick said quietly. “To me it simply sounds like this guy was a complete idiot who wouldn’t know a good, talented woman if one bit him in the ass.”

Marinette’s grey eyes darted to him, searching for any dishonesty. When she found none, she smiled weakly and thanked him for trying to make her feel better. Wiping her eyes, she told Dick that she was going to go home and sleep the alcohol off. As she moved to get up, Marinette wobbled unsteadily and had to grasp Dick for support.

“I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought,” she whispered, her cheeks turning bright red.

Dick simply smiled at her before draping his coat over Marinette. He stood up and gently guided her away from the bar and out into the cool Gotham air. He noted how she shivered, pulling closer to him before mumbling, “Don’t like the cold.”

“C’mon Nettie, I’ll get you a ride home—”

“Don’t wanna go back.”

“Nettie—”

“He’s there.”

This made the man stop. The guy she was avoiding was at her place of residence? Did they live together? What was she going to do now? Marinette was clearly drunk and vulnerable. What would happen if she went back home and this douchebag was still there? It made Dick’s skin crawl, so he decided to choose the lesser of two evils.

He fished out his phone and dialed a number he was secretly hoping he’d never have to call again.  Dick nearly breathed out a sigh of relief when a welcomingly familiar voice answered the phone.

“...hey Alfred...it’s Dick. Is Bruce out?”

“Why yes, Master Dick. He took Jason out this evening.”

“...could you come pick us up? I ran into an old friend, and she got pretty drunk. I’m afraid to send her home by herself.”

“Of course, Master Dick. Shall I set up a room for you as well?”

Dick could hear the hopefulness in Alfred’s voice as he added that Jason would probably like to see him as well. Dick gritted his teeth but wasn’t able to answer before Marinette’s sweet voice asked him who Jason was. One he’d told her who Jason was, Marinette got a very firm look on her face.

“You should stay. This Bruce might be a big idiot, but the little boy has nothing to do with it. Are you really going to be mean to the little boy who looks up to you because you’re mad at someone else? Because that doesn’t seem right at all. What did little Jason ever do to you?”

He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so shocked. Marinette had been an inconsolable sobbing mess only moments before. Now she was spitting out wisdom like she was freaking Buddah. He had to admit she had a point though. His problem was solely with Bruce, and Jason didn’t have anything to do with it. Jason hadn’t done anything to warrant the kind of treatment Dick had been giving him.

“...I’ll stay, Alfred. Only for Jason. I refuse to talk to Bruce.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Master Dick. Jason could use the help of someone experienced in dealing with Master Bruce,” the relief was clear in his voice. “I’ll come get you, and then set up your rooms.”

“You’re experienced there too, you know?”

“Yes, Master Dick… but I’m not a young man, and I’m not Master Bruce’s son like you are. I firmly believe he’ll relate to you better.”

Dick mentally agreed, but thanked Alfred and hung up the phone. He turned his attention back to Marinette, whose grey eyes were watching him closely. She looked almost lost as if she didn’t know what to do now. He could see the anxiety coming back to her expression and quickly asked her what was wrong.

“Should I really come over if you’re having issues with him? I don’t want to make things worse—”

“Nettie, you’re fine. Just stick close, and I’ll keep you warm and safe until Alfred gets here. Then you can go to sleep in a safe place,” Dick said firmly. “I’ll work things out with Jason. Bruce is just being stubborn and refusing to admit he’s wrong. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy.”

Marinette’s drunken mind seemed to crash.

She could vaguely remember him using the nickname before, but it hadn’t hit her until just then. Dick was calling her Nettie. Dick had given her a nickname. Dick was offering her a safe place to stay. Dick was standing here, making sure she was safe and warm while his friends were still drinking inside. Dick had left his friends to see if she was okay…

Her face, already slightly flushed from the alcohol, got redder as she locked eyes with the enchanting man next to her. She’d made a mental note of him before, dark hair and blue eyes, but now she was looking at him closely. He had beautiful cheekbones and eyes that carried a mischievousness to them. A smile always seemed to be tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he was stronger than Marinette originally thought

He was muscular, but not in the way one who lifts a lot of weights would be. He had muscles more like… a dancer.

Marinette got so tangled up in her thoughts she didn’t notice the limo pull up beside them. It wasn’t until Dick began gently guiding her to the door that Marinette even realized the car was there. Time blurred for her after that as she let Dick take care of her. The last thing she’d be able to recall the next day was an elderly man showing her a room, and plopping herself onto the bed.

Dick had come to wake her up the next morning with some ibuprofen and water.

He’d smiled at her the same way he had when he greeted her at the bar. It still made her feel weak and brought a small smile of her own to her face. Dick had then talked to her about the previous night’s events, and what had happened. He told her not to worry about crashing at the manor as he himself hadn’t felt comfortable sending her back home. He then offered his assistance in either kicking her boyfriend out of her home or helping her relocate.

“Why would you do that?” she asked quietly. “Why do you even care?”

“Because I’m your friend, Nettie.”

“Why?”

“...because right now, we could both use a good friend,” Dick said softly. “One that listens to me instead of dragging me out to bars. One that tells me to shut up and man up when I’m wrong. You may not remember it, but you set me straight last night. I’m going to talk to Jason. Fighting with Bruce or not, he still adopted Jason which makes him my little brother. I shouldn’t take my anger out on him.”

Marinette’s eyes widened as she set the glass of water down beside her.

“I did that?” she murmured.

“Yeah, you did. You could also use someone who isn’t going to use you for money or fame. You seemed really nice, and it sounds like a lot of people took that for granted or abused it. That’s not fair to you,” he added. “So what do you say? Are we at least friends?”

As Dick held his hand out to Marinette, her face began to heat up. She managed to keep herself together long enough to shake his hand, a shy smile appearing on her face. She felt her heart thud in her chest as the man with sky-blue eyes smiled the most perfect smile at her.

Sure...they could be friends for now.

[2sunchild2]

I'm new to this and have no idea how this is going to appear to you but here's a prompt anyway: Daminette Betrothed AU a reunion in front of the batfam, the fam, the class and the fam or part of the class and fam either works but could you make Marinette more Talia (atleast on the inside under clumsy cover) and make her slap him first thing she does shocking the people there? Thank you for your time, you're awesome, continue onwards!!

Taking a road trip from Pussyville to Ballstown for this :)

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“Why are we going to Paris anyway,” scoffed nineteen year old Damian Wayne. He took a sip from his champagne glass and stared out the jet’s window, being careful not to spill anything on his suit.

“I don’t see why you feel the need to complain, Paris is a beautiful city,” Bruce Wayne stated, not looking up from his newspaper.

“I’m not complaining father, I just don’t understand why I needed to join you,” the young heir replied, clearly annoyed by the lack of a response to his first question. Bruce let out a hum in reply, but didn’t make an effort to continue the conversation, flipping to another page in the paper.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“Wow Lila! I can’t believe you managed to get us a tour at at Wayne Enterprises!” Rose squealed, she stood next to the Italian girl, eyes wide with joy.

Marinette had the urge to slap her sometimes. No one is that happy and excited all the damn time. It shouldn’t be natural. She heard someone walk towards her, but she knew who it was, she’d recognize her best friend”s walking pattern anywhere.

“How much longer do you think this little game will go on?” Chloe asked, her eyes glued to the deceiving little twit. Marinette’s eyes roamed around the building, watching the grimaces on the employees’ faces. She smirked slyly.

“Not long.”

Chloe noticed her friend’s smile but didn’t comment. She learned not to question Mari when she had that scheming look on her face. She was planning something. What? She wasn’t sure. She smiled in return and looked at the building.

Wayne Enterprises in Paris was beautiful. It held the gothic structure as the one in Gotham. People were bustling in and out of the building, trying to get their work done. Bustier was arguing with a receptionist about their tour. They has arrived thirty minutes earlier than planned. Lila’s doing of course, but Marinette arrived on time so she wouldn’t miss the bus.

“I’m assuming you’re the class touring the building today?” A familiar voice spoke from behind her. Her posture stiffened but she refused to turn around. She could see the gears turning in Lila’s brain at the sight of the man behind her. He tapped her shoulder, “Miss?” She hated it when people touched her shoulder.

She gripped his wrist, keeping it in a tight hold, before turning around. She was face to face with those green eyes that she had grown to miss all those years ago. She didn’t like him at the time, he had a big ego, he was bratty, he thought he was better than everyone and they were betrothed.

She eyed him up and down. He had grown up. And beautifully so. His jaw was chiseled and he wore a perfectly fitted suit. His hair hadnt changed, maybe grown a little and better kept, but it stayed the same.

And then she felt rage bubbling in her chest. Where was he? After all this time? Did he not think she would search for him? Did he not care when she was told by Talia he was killed during the raid?

Damian could only watch the French-Asian woman in front of him. Was it really her? God, she looked so different. She aged gracefully, her hair seemed fuller and he noticed puberty had done her well. He was so mesmerized by her, he didn’t process her hand flying towards his face.

A loud slap echoed through the lobby. All conversation stopped, Mme Bustier gasped.

“Marinette!” Lila cried out dramatically, “Why would you do that to a stranger?! You could get sued.”

He saw her glare harden, “Oh, he’s no stranger.” She continuously clenched and unclenched her fists, a habit she never seemed to escape whenever she tried to contain her rage.

He brought a hand up to his cheek, cupping it gently so it wouldn’t sting, “I always forget just how strong your hits are, Angel.”

Her brows twitched and she crossed her arms, silently challenging him, “That’s not the only thing you forgot.”

@@@@@@@@@@

Permanent tag list: @thyladyanput @virgil-is-a-cutie @18-fandoms-unite-08 @thesunanditsangel

[alexiessan]

Never alone - Chapter Seven - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Hi guys! Here is chapter 7. I hope this time it will show up in the tag search because chapter 6 didn’t and a lot of you probably missed it. I’ve noticed that several chapters from authors I follow didn’t show up in the tags either so it wasn’t just me... I don’t know what’s wrong with tumblr but I hope they fix it because we’re probably missing some updates...

Anyway, here is chapter 7 for you guys :)

When Damian came back to the manor, he changed and took a shower as quickly as possible in the hope to catch Tim when he would come back from patrol. He also fed Titus and Alfred the cat on his way to the Batcave, giving both of them a light scratch.

“You’re back earlier than usual.” mused a voice that he recognized as Tim’s.

Damian looked up at his brother, standing up from where he was crouching petting his pets.

He didn’t expect his brother’s shocked look.

“Oh. Your eye. Is that your soulbond?”

The youngest Wayne raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, you didn’t know?”

Tim shook his head.

“No, you didn’t tell us and I assume you’ve been wearing contacts ever since the change.”

Damian nodded, silent.

“It suits you.”

The green-eyed teen just looked at his brother, silent.

Timothy rolled his eyes.

“Can’t you just take a compliment? I can be nice to my brother too, you know.”

Damian chose to ignore that.

“And why didn’t you tell me that Marinette would be shadowing you during her internship? She thinks it’s very strange that the co-CEO would go out of his way for a high school student to shadow him.”

Tim smirked, picking up Alfred the cat.

“Does it bother you?”

“I don’t want you to embarrass  myself.”

Tim laughed.

“No chance for now. She only knows you as Robin for now. She won’t associate me with you.”

Damian frowned.

“I won’t just be Robin forever.”

“I know. Stop worrying like a teen in his rebellious phase ashamed of his parents. I’m just going to show her the roots of business management.”

“It’s still weird for the co-CEO to do that. That kind of job goes to regular employees. Did you volunteer because she’s Ladybug?” he asked as he crossed his arms.

“I did. Ever since Bruce knew that Ladybug would be on the trip, he wanted to keep an eye on her. To be sure that she wasn’t overwhelmed by all her responsibilities, because according to her files, she had a lot of them. Ladybug and Chat Noir are just teens. Granted, we were too when we started being vigilantes too, but Bruce was with us, we weren’t left unsupervised. He’s worried that it’s too much for them.”

He smirked at his little brother.

“And the fact that she’s your soulmate is a bonus too.”

Damian ignored the jab, intent on having all his questions answered.

“What about the Agreste boy, then? Is he shadowing you too?”

“No, he’s with the PR team along with Miss. Césaire.”

“I would have thought that he would be shadowing someone in business management, what with his father’s company…”

“I would have thought that too, but the boy is also the image of the brand and constantly in the press. His father probably wants him to learn how to deal with the press and how to dispel rumors.”

It made sense, the model would probably learn business management later on, directly from his father.

Tim chuckled.

“Is that all? Or did you want to corner me for something else too?” he asked as he put the half-asleep cat down.

“Tch. Just don’t ruin things for me with Marinette.”

The older boy laughed, tapping the younger boy’s back.

“I’ll only have nice words for you. Well, as nice as it can be, you are quite a difficult one.”

He barely avoided Damian’s punch.

Marinette was nervous. So nervous that she had to take deep breaths to not panic.

Today was their first day of internship. For a whole week, they would work at Wayne Enterprises alongside an employee in their chose field.

Alya and Adrien would work with the Public Relationship branch. The reporter has been so excited about it. As a reporter, she would have to deal with PR teams in the future, and the knowledge would be good for her.

As for Adrien, well… It was no secret that it was his father’s wish that he shadowed them. The young Agreste has confided to his three friends that he had no idea what he wanted to do in the future. What he was sure, however, was that he didn’t want to continue being a model and he didn’t want to have anything to do with his father’s company.

With his lack of aspiration for the future, he was, just this once, happy to let his father choose which branch to intern in for him.

Nino, along with, surprisingly, Lila, would be shadowing the legal team of the company. While he still couldn’t choose between being a DJ or a movie maker, he wanted to be able to handle any legal issues if someone tried to claim his work as their own for example.

Copyrights were no joke after all.

As for why Lila wanted to do her internship in this branch, well… She didn’t know and she honestly wouldn’t go out of her way to know. The farthest away she was from Lila, the better.

Marinette was happy to have this opportunity to learn about business management. She wanted to start her own line of clothes later in life, but if she wanted to keep working for Jagged and doing graphic design for him, there were some things she had to do. Like, making all the paperwork to create her own business and thus, be an étudiante auto-entrepreneur. A student independent worker.

She hoped that her internship would help her do that, even if it was different in the USA than in France.

She was happy for this opportunity, but what made her nervous was that her internship was with the co-CEO, Timothy Drake-Wayne.

She didn’t understand how something like this could happen. An average French student like her didn’t what it took to work with a co-CEO. Especially not the CEO of an important company like Bruce Wayne’s.

She didn’t know, nor when, but Marinette was sure that she would ridicule herself one way or another.

Then, they would fire her, and she would be banned from the USA forever.

The whole class would mock her and she would become a pariah in Paris too and she would lose all her friends and her family!

“Aaaaaaaah!”

The scream that came out of her mouth was unintentional but it did its job in surprising everyone on the bus.

“Wow, girl. What was that for?”

Alya looked at her with an amused smile, used to the designer’s antics by now. She knew that the French-Chinese girl would panic eventually, the weight of “I will be shadowing the fucking CEO” too much for her.

Honestly, the reporter was surprised that she didn’t panic earlier. Sometimes, she wondered how Marinette was able to stay on her feet with all her responsibilities, and yet, would panic for the smallest of things.

That girl was a walking paradox.

“This is going to be a disaster, Alya! One way or another I’m going to ruin this internship, and then-”

“Okay, let me stop you right now. You’ve worked for Jagged Stone, and he still goes to you for graphic design. Have a little more confidence! You’re not going to ruin anything. Plus, you’re not here to work but to learn. You can’t fail anything in learning.”

The Ladyblogger put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Everything is going to be alright. But if you don’t move right now, we’re going to be late.”

Marinette didn’t even notice that they were already there and that the others were currently getting off the bus.

She took a deep breath, trying her best in believing in her best friend’s words.

Everything would be alright.

Upon entering the Wayne Tower, they were welcomed by Bruce Wayne and his secretaries. They took an hour or so in touring the building, Mr. Wayne giving pieces of information about the history behind his business.

After that, they led them into a conference room where several employees were already sitting.

As they all took a seat, Mr. Wayne made his way on the small stage, giving everyone in the room a professional smile.

“I would like to thank the Collège Françoise Dupont for applying to our career program. It’s a pleasure for us, Wayne Enterprises, to help young minds like yours to find their goals and aspirations for the future. I hope you will enjoy your time with us.”

He paused as the class applauded.

“Thank you. Now, I would like us all to applaud Miss Dupain-Cheng and Miss Césaire for their incredible essay that won their class this trip.”

Once again everyone applauded. The two girls were slightly embarrassed at all this attention.

“Now, let’s not wait any further. All the employees that you will be shadowing are already here. When I call your name, please come up to the stage to be introduced to your mentor. Then, you will be free to go and start the day. Adrien Agreste!”

All too soon it was Marinette’s turn to be called. She was introduced to Timothy Drake-Wayne who didn’t seem that much older than them. He was obviously in his early twenties and probably should be a university student if he were anyone else.

As they left the room, Tim smiled at the short girl.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I hope you will enjoy this week with us.”

The Eurasian girl felt a little uneasy. Tim smiled at her like he already knew her and it unnerved her a little.

“It’s very nice to meet you too, sir! Please, call me Marinette.”

The man smiled at her.

“Alright, as long as you don’t call me sir anymore, please. I’m only twenty-one.”

“Alright then… May I ask you a question?”

“Of course, ask away.”

“I was really surprised when I was told that I would be shadowing you. I was wondering why.”

Tim smiled softly, trying to appease the nervous girl.

“When you asked to shadow someone in the business management branch, you said that one day you wanted to have your own line of clothes and that in the meantime, you already had clients for graphic design and had to open a business as an independent worker for your work to be legal. While your office is your home, it’s still considered a business. Since you will be managing a business at such a young age, we thought it would be better to have someone as young as me to show you the ropes, you know?”

Marinette nodded. It made sense. She didn’t want someone to tell her that she was too young to own a business. Even if being an independent worker didn’t really feel like owning a business, there was still a lot of paperwork to do and she had to deal with all the taxes.

The small girl gave him a bright smile.

“Alright, then! I’m ready!”

Marinette, Tim observed, was a very bright child with a thirst to learn. She took notes of everything he said and asked questions every time she could think of one.

He told her how his grandparents built this business and what changes his adoptive father made.

Then they talked about her plans for the future in details and the co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises was surprised how thorough she was.

He couldn’t help but think that she would be a good match for his little brother.

He spent the whole morning talking business with her and teasing his little brother in texts. He knew that Damian and Bruce planned to have lunch together today. He thought how funny it would be if the demon spawn were to cross path with his soulmate without his Robin costume. The boy would do his best to avoid her.

Speaking of lunch…

“Oh, shit. Is it the time? I’m sorry Marinette, I didn’t notice.”

“Oh, it’s okay! I didn’t see the time pass either.”

Tim smiled.

“Do you want to keep talking and eat lunch here? I was thinking about ordering Chinese food, what do you think?”

The French girl beamed.

“I would love to!”

“Do you want something in particular?”

“Anything is fine, thank you!”

Dialing a number on his phone, he quickly ordered for the both of them.

He saw Marinette taking her wallet out.

“Now, put that away, it’s on me.” he smiled.

That would be the first time he paid lunch for his future sister in law and he was very happy to do so.

“But-”

“I insist.”

“Thank you very much!”

She was such a polite girl, he mused.

The food arrived quickly and they started a business plan together for a fictive company as a way to learn.

He noticed that the door opened and saw his father and little brother with lunch bags in hand.

He smirked as Damian froze and left as quickly as he came, his father mouthing an apology and following his son.

He forgot that he was supposed to have lunch with his father too.

He couldn’t help his laugh at his brother’s reaction though. His face screamed Nope.

“Is something the matter?” asked Marinette.

He stopped laughing, getting back to business.

“No, sorry. You were saying?”

Tag list:

@bigpicklebananatree @animegirlweeb @crazylittlemunchkin @northernbluetongue @cutechip @justafanwarrior @iloontjeboontje @resignedcatservant @maribat-is-lifeblood @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @toodaloo-kangaroo @mikantsume @dast218 @amayakans​ @zestyzealot​ @lunarwolfspn​

[mottephobia-imagines]

BNHA as Hetalia Characters (Axis + Allies only)

Hahahahaaaa.. I’m still Hetalia trash 😇

—

Mirio Togata as America

I first put Denki as America but then I saw a post and now I can’t stop thinking about BTT SeroKiriKami so yeah-

Mirio and America have more things in common other than being blond, blue-eyed precious beans that need to be protected

First of- s t r o n g. They’re both canonically some of the strongest characters in their respective series despite their relatively young ages (Mirio being above some pro-hero levels despite still being in high school and America being well America lmao)

Additionally, they both have drive; they have a determination to become as strong as they possibly could, and stop at nothing to get there

Also, they love helping people! Mirio wants to save a million smiles, and America is a self-proclaimed hero (who admittedly isn’t the best but he’s trying okay)

Both of them kinda also have a hidden intelligence? Like, as in one would never think of them to be highly intelligent people because they’re so goofy and energetic

Since it’s implied that both Tamaki and Mirio game in their free time, him and America are also avid gamers (imagine them playing smash together lmao I feel like they’d break all the controllers)

Both v v competitive too (not as much as the next duo tho)- they’ll never back down from a challenge and face it head on with all their might!

Also, they’re basically the blond boy of the month but it’s every month lmao

(In my eyes they’re both cute little golden retrievers shshsjdjskal)

In conclusion, they’re sunshines who deserve the world and more

Katsuki Bakugo as England

Okay fr hear me the fuck out-

I know it’s an unlikely pair

But they have their similarities just bear with me here

Yes, I was initially going to put in Romano for Bakugo (anger issues gang)

But then the more I thought about it, the more I realized that unlike Romano, he wouldn’t back away from a challenge or run at the slightest scare- Bakugo would take that shit and smother it into the ground

And while England may sometimes be portrayed as a prude gentleman type, we can’t forget his history- this man is probably one of, if not the most, ballsy countries to exist (at least back in his prime)

England is smart, calculated and cunning- how could you not be when you’ve conquered nearly the whole damn world?

He’s proud and maybe a bit too egotistical, and while lacking the anger issues and probably dead vocal cords of Bakugo, he sure as hell matches him in the pride and power aspect

Bakugo, on the other hand, is literally top of his class; boy is a nerd and has a perfect record

So he’s by no means any less smart than England, maybe a little more reckless, but he’s 16- you can’t exactly compare his mindset to a country’s

Even so he does act quickly on the battlefield, much like England assessed situations very precariously (most of the time)

Both of them would probably look an opponent dead in the eye and tell them to do it, bet you won’t pussy ass

On a lighter note tho, they’re two blond, spiky-haired tsunderes who are way to proud and smart for their own good

They also both listen to rock/punk so there’s that too

foreverfurrowedbrowclubTM

Aoyama Yuuga as France

I know I just said SeroKamiKiri is the BTT but once again hear me out

I couldn’t not put Aoyama in as France

It’s literally a match made in Heaven guys cmon

They’re both sparkling, flamboyant and fabulous blondies

Although sometimes their attitude can be interpreted as holier-than-thou, really they just know that they’re amazing and don’t care what people think (we stan confident kings 😤)

They also know that they deserve the best luxuries in life, and definitely won’t settle for anything else

In terms of courage, they’re pretty much on the same level; they get scared easily and will more than likely either back out of the challenge or give up the moment they feel tired

The difference is, France will never regain whatever bravery he had before the French Revolution, but Aoyama is slowly building his courage up in his journey to become a hero

They also take things in stride, willingly or unwillingly (whether it be an ugly outfit or a defeat, they won’t be a sore loser lmao)

While not necessarily flirty like France, Aoyama can still charm people with his whims. Also, their relationship towards people that they can’t charm kind of mirrors one another? (Might be reaching here lmao)

I do think though sometimes that Aoyama shows some similarities with Poland/2P!Romano, but he has the most similarities with France so 🤷🏻‍♀️

Toga Himiko as Russia

You may say she’s more like Belarus but nay nay I say

Belarus is the more kind of ‘stoic’ cruel in my mind; she doesn’t show much emotion besides annoyance and getting angry

Russia however

He’s ‘childishly’ cruel- looks innocent but is capable of some horrible, monstrous things.

Even though his face says otherwise, he does take some glee in torturing harming others (like, a lot)

Toga also does this, but in a much more obvious way lmao. She’s a villain, who drinks blood, there’s no doubt she hasn’t killed anyone. She also takes a lot more pleasure from hurting people than Russia does

They not that close with people, but the ones they are close to they are immensely protective of (Toga and the LOV, Russia and his sisters)

They also are capable of being highly intelligent, knowing more than what people think they know (Toga helping Twice our, and I high key headcanon Russia as a manipulative and cunning bastard who’s done many horrible things to people to get his way)

(I still love you Ivan)

I think this goes without saying but they’re really really violent

Russia just likes using his magic metal pipe of pain, and Toga likes her knives

They also have some really shitty pasts that have lead them to be who they are today

They may look cute on the outside, but they are oh so very cruel on the inside

Shota Aizawa as China

Haha, old man syndrome-

These two have more in common than you’d think

First off, they have that wisdom that comes with age, and are trying to get the younger ones to learn it (Aizawa does this better lmao)

I can totally see them complaining about ‘kids these days’ even tho they’ve done the same shit back then-

Along with wisdom comes cunning and craft. I headcanon China as a low key genius, so he’s probably on par with Aizawa, if not better (in terms of battle strategy and such)

Even though they come off as strict, all they really want is the best for their students/siblings

They’re both physically strong (China was probably once hella jacked, and Aizawa speaks for himself)

They do tire out quite easily tho so there’s that

Both have a penchant for cute animals like cats (Hello Kitty’s a cat don’t @ me)

On a darker note, they’ve both suffered losses of close friends. While China has definitely lost a lot more, Shirakumo’s ‘death’ still took a huge toll on him. Likewise, China has lost all his ancient friends over the years, making him the last one left (except turkey and Mongolia they don’t matter rn)

Tenya Iida as Germany

You cannot tell me this isn’t also a match made in heaven

They’re literally, at their very core, almost the exact same person

Iida is a stickler for rules- he follows every single one of them. Any and every. Pretty organized too, if I do say so myself

Likewise, Germany is also very strict with rules and regimens. He’s also canonically OCD so mans cannot stand messes (people or things)

It may make them seem like pains in the neck but really it’s the only way they know how to interact

Also have some angsty connections with their brothers

Although not as easily provoked as Germany, Iida can still be just as terrifying (mans tried to kill Stain I mean come on-)

As with nearly all of these characters, they’re both strong as hecc

Also, I feel like both of them are somewhat pressured by what their other family members have accomplished and want to achieve the same thing (Iida coming from a family of superheroes, and Germany really looking up to his father and brother and wanting to be like them but less yknow)

They don’t really know how to communicate well?? Like, of course they can talk and hold conversation but they have difficulty with most social interactions (it’s adorable)

More often than not the louder voice of reason within their friend group (Everyone in the Dekusquad besides Deku himself is the voice of reason lmao, and Germany is a no-nonsense kind of guy)

Smart bois (In Gakuen Hetalia, Germany is said to be one of the smartest students and tutors Italy, and Iida tries his best)

All in all very awkward and loud losers beans that need to learn how to not be so stiff lmao

Shoto Todoroki as Japan

Y’all already know I had to pair the introverts together

Calm, collected and reserved- these two mind their own business like it’s a sports championship lmao

Even though they may come off as intimidating sometimes, in reality they’re just shy and don’t really know the basics of social interaction (more than Germany and Iida lmao)

They’re both fairly strong, too (Todoroki with his icy hot quirk makes him one of the most OP characters in MHA imo, and Japan definitely doesn’t carry around a katana just for show)

Very very convoluted and not so great childhood (Think the sengoku period was Japan’s childhood so he was basically torn up as a kid while Todoroki had to deal with Endebitch)

Also both pretty smart??? Like, high key they’re both very intelligent and skilled

Both their friends are slowly helping them get out of that super duper introverted mindset, but the poor bbs are still trying to learn how to be a lot less stiffe

They’re also really into architecture esp traditional Japanese architecture (canon in both)

I honestly think they’d get along pretty well if they met, tbh

(Japan would get him into anime and manga and the bookworm in Todoroki can’t resist)

The strange circumstance of Italy

Honestly, I could not find anyone in MHA that was remotely similar to Italy

I was very close to putting in Mina or Nejire, since those two come to mind whenever I think of bright and bubbly (Maybe Kirishima too, but it just doesn’t fit)

So while those two are pretty much the most fitting I feel, they don’t completely encompass his character enough yonow?

Like, I genuinely cannot find anyone who is similar enough to compare him to

So for now, until I can find a suitable pick, Italy won’t have a MHA character to be paired up with 😔 sorry guys

—

What do you guys think? Do you agree or do you think different characters should be put in place?

If this gets enough notes, I might make a part 2 including female nations and the others (or whatever characters you guys request)

Requests are still open! You can ask for edits or character imagines/headcanons!

[bastillewolf]

Midnight In Sheffield (I)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: When a soon-to-be-wedded insomniac author heads back home to visit her parents, she comes across the likes of a mysterious musician on her sleepless escapade in the AM.

Notes: Not sure if this is going to work out, but I’ve made the creative decision to write a series of Alex Turner fanfics, going down each album and all most likely lightly based off movies. Like the Grand Tranquility Hotel from the Grand Budapest Hotel, this one is based off Midnight In Paris. No need to have seen either movies to read these fics. It won’t take place around the same time, as Sheffield has been through some stuff in the early 1900s. I will keep it all a bit old-school themed, but just won’t name a specific era, so you can take your own spin on it. I’m not familiar with Sheffield at all, never been there, so I’ll keep locations vague and add the Paris theme a bit in there. Hope you tag along for the ride, and let’s have one for the road.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter I - AM

“I don’t see how this could be more important to you than meeting my parents,” she grumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow she had planted her face in. The sheets of the bed were soft and had a pristine white colour, much to her dismay. The entire hotel room was much too extravagant to her liking, but it was Mark who insisted on paying extra to make their stay most comfortable.

“Please don’t be difficult now, sweetheart,” her fiancée replied, as he set one of his neatly folded trousers in the dresser on the shelf next to where his ironed shirts hung. “You know how much it means to me to be able to see James and Rachel again after all these years. I’m sure your parents will understand. If not, I’ll beg for their forgiveness.” He dramatically bent down to his knee, as if to gallantly portray his apology, making her roll her eyes.

“That wouldn’t be the first thing you’d have to apologize for. First of all, you’re going to have to tell my dad why you didn’t ask for his permission to marry me-“

“You already said yes!”

She shot him a look. “And secondly, you’re going to have to explain to my mum why you didn’t want to stay at their home. I think she would’ve been very happy to play hostess to the man who’s going to marry her daughter in a few.”

He crawled on top of the bed, his curly brown hair hanging over his face as he hovered above her and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be sure to make up for it. Now, please get changed. We’re having lunch.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s going to be at that ritzy restaurant we went to last time. I’m still not over the way that waiter felt the need to explain everything to me like a five-year-old whilst pointing everything out with his little finger.”

“Well, you can’t speak French, darling. I think he tried his best at explaining the menu to you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just, please stop drooling on the pillow and put on something nice. For me?”

Seeing the convincing puppy look on his face, she gave in with a sigh and a very loud slurping noise as she lifted her head from the pillow, making Mark huff.

 Meeting with James and Rachel wasn’t the worst thing in the world, because she didn’t see them very often and they were overall nice people. At least, if you didn’t count every time James tried to be the smartass of the group by giving some random fact about anything and everything they came across, or if you ignored the way Rachel was evidently very flirty and touchy with Mark, or if you turned your head away every time the couple made those wretched kissing noises as they shared what should be an intimate moment.

What Mark had with Rachel was something she could never come between, something she also shared with many good friends of her own. They were the type who would always share that bond with you, no matter how long you hadn’t seen each other, and she could only be happy that Mark still had friends like that.

His work as a lawyer didn’t allow for him to make all that many mates, as most try to stab him in the back just to be able to get that promotion they wanted. He’d often come home with his head hung low after days like that, when loneliness took over the pride he had of his usually exhilarating job.

And thus, as she watched Rachel hug him extra tight, she kept her mouth shut. It was for the best, and it was only one afternoon she had to endure.

But she vowed to herself to not let it happen at her wedding. That was her day. Fuck Mark and fuck Rachel. She wasn’t going to be left alone dancing with James, who seemed to be known for having two left feet, by her own husband. But that was something she’d have to worry about in the future.

Her worries now were trying to translate a French menu without asking a waiter, deciding which fork to use, and refraining from telling James to shut up about the painting that hung behind him, of which he was giving an entirely unnecessarily intricate description.

“As you can see, the painter made sure the flag of the boat is standing diagonal to the man in the front, to make the artwork a treat for the eye with this interesting form of composition. It makes the scene all the more dramatic, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mark and Rachel hummed thoughtfully, but both were looking at the painting as if it was some Professor Layton puzzle they had yet to solve.

“What do you think?” James turned to her directly, catching her off guard. James usually wasn’t one to ask others for their opinion, so she could only guess it was an attempt to test her bare knowledge on the subject to make himself look like the smarter one.

“I think you said it all, James,” she decided to answer with, “I’m afraid I haven’t thought about art in that way since my classes in school. As of now, I have more important things to worry about than what the composition in a painting is like.”

It was low of her, she knew that, but someone needed to teach him a lesson.

“Ah,” James said, seemingly unfazed by her subtle insult, “Now that you mention it, how’s your book coming along?”

She sighed. Of course, he was going to play that card. She could’ve seen it coming.

Being a published writer of a few mediocre novels she’d written back in school, she was still in search for her new muse, and things were getting a bit desperate, to say the least. She had absolutely no idea what her next story was going to be about, finding everything in her life to be inexplicably boring and explicitly dull.

Not so much to say she wasn’t happy. No, she liked being with Mark. But she couldn’t say her life was a real adventure with him, or anyone for that matter. They lived in an apartment in the big city, where Mark had his day job and she her comfortable bed. He’d come home and she would’ve cooked – whatever attempt it was each time – and cleaned, and perhaps even written down a page or two only to never look at it again.

“Oh, you know. It’s getting there,” she lied, “Inspiration is lacking a bit these days, unfortunately.”

“I’ve always found inspiration to be a bit of a myth,” James said thoughtfully, “Why is it exactly that one particular thing that’s so inexplicable yet so necessary to create something? It seems a bit… I don’t know, like an excuse for some writers. I’ve heard many talk about it seriously, and many call it pure laziness. But then again, I wouldn’t really know much of the matter.”

There was the comeback.

She smiled tightly. “No, you wouldn’t. I can agree that some writers use it as an excuse to hide their laziness, as I find that a lot of characters write their own stories as soon as you sit down and start typing. However, inspiration is indeed something vague, and could be considered a writer’s virtue or downfall. It’s however you approach the subject, and however you try to deal with it or rationalize it as an artist.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it. I wouldn’t know much about it, since I’m only an art consultant, after all.” He threw his hands up degradingly.

Fucker.

“Oh, come on, let’s not be so childish. All of our work is equally as important, as long as we’re happy doing it,” Rachel intervened, before raising her glass, “Here’s a toast to inspiration and art!”

Though she was relieved the argument was over and the attention drawn away from her, she couldn’t help but feel that familiar itch from the downgrading undertone in Rachel’s voice. Call it jealousy if you might, but she wasn’t one to let something like that slip from her mind, however many years may pass.

“So, if I may be so bold to ask,” Rachel continued, and the writer had almost collected her guts to blatantly reply with a ‘no’ when the woman was already speaking again, “What are your plans after the wedding? Are you moving? Already thinking about having kids? No pressure, of course.” She laughed with a pitch so high it nearly shattered the wineglass she was bringing to her lips to pieces.

“Oh, she always gets a bit icky talking about having kids,” Mark chuckled, “But if it were up to her, we’d be moving to some remote village in the outskirts of France, living in a tiny apartment until we grow old and turn to dust.”

She shrugged at her fiancée, “Doesn’t sound all that bad to me.”

“That’s because you came up with it.”

“Don’t you want to be closer to your friends?” Rachel asked, “Why move to the middle of nowhere, when you have everything out here?”

“I don’t know. I guess because of the peace and quiet. A simple life, with the bare necessities.”

“I wouldn’t have protested if it wasn’t for my job,” Mark added, which was a blatant lie. She’d heard him cut off her dream many times over for many different reasons. “Unfortunately, my French isn’t good enough to be a lawyer, and certainly not in the outskirts somewhere.”

“I thought you barely spoke a word of French, anyway?” James asked her.

“I know, but I would learn it there. It would be a part of the adventure.”

He snorted, “I’m sorry darling, but adventure is for children. It’s time to grow out of that. Perhaps you should find something you like in a proper job.”

 She’d prompted to walk back to the hotel, through the rain, as Mark, James and Rachel – mostly Mark – had tried to convince her to share a cab with them. But no way in hell would she spend another unnecessary moment with that couple, and Mark knew better than to follow her out, for she would only be walking too quickly for him, and he would have quietly trailed after her the whole way back.

So, when she finally reached the building, he allowed her to soak in the tub for a few hours before finally approaching her.

“He has a point, you know.”

The look she gave him was an evident warning, yet he still had the guts to continue. “I’m not saying you should stop writing. I know that’s your passion. But, I’m asking you to maybe find something that could come close to that in the meantime, at least until you find something to write about. And perhaps, after we get married-“ he kissed her wrinkly palm, “-we could afford ourselves a nice vacation cot somewhere in the outskirts of France, and we could visit it as often as we’d like.”

She pursed her lips, turning her eyes away from his pensively. “I’m not sure your job would allow that. Your vacation days would be limited, and my desires to go on a holiday always growing.”

He smiled gently. “I’m sure we could work it out after I get that promotion.”

She looked at him, her eyes slightly glossy. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m giving up.”

“You’re not giving up, sweetheart. You’re only taking measures to be able to do the things you like, and when things are going well you can set your priorities straight. It’s the better thing to do.”

Her mind might be relieved to hear this solution, but her gut remained ridden with unease.

 “Mark? Are you coming?” she called out, her hand hovering over the doorknob of their room.

“I’ll be right after you!” she heard him say, “Work is phoning me, you go ahead. I’ll take the next cab.”

“Alright, but don’t be too long!”

 They were supposed to meet with their parents that evening to share the big news, but after hugs were shared and multiple cups of tea were had, Mark still hadn’t shown. She was beginning to grow worried when he didn’t pick up his phone, and even went as far as to step outside to frantically see if the connection was better.

After eight missed calls, she finally reached him.

“Can you believe it?” she heard him slur, “I stepped into the same cab as James! We’re at the pub, you should come join!”

Hearing faint noises of protest from others on the other end of the line, she quickly grew more and more bothered. “Mark, we were supposed to see my parents tonight.”

“Oh, we can see them again tomorrow! I figured you needed some catching up to do.”

“You could’ve joined in on that catching up, as they’ve barely seen you three times over the past four years we’ve been together.”

“Please don’t be like that sweetheart, you know I adore your parents. In fact, I’ll come over right now if that’s what you-“

“No,” she quickly cut him off, not being able to stand the mental sight of her parents having to deal with her drunk fiancée. “You know what, have fun. I’ll stay at my parents’ for the night.”

“Sounds like fun! Call me-“

She’d hung up the phone before he could finish his sentence, and had dropped to her knees as she felt her bottom lip tremble. Not wanting to alert the neighbours, she quickly forced her numb legs to work again and strode in the direction of town, a walking route she usually took whenever she was upset when she was young. She sent a quick text to her mum, telling her she’d meet again with them tomorrow and explain what happened. She really couldn’t be bothered right now.

Tears streamed down her face at the thought that her feet were so unwilling to go back to face her parents, who she’d have to disappoint yet again with a disappearing soon-to-be son-in-law. It wasn’t that she couldn’t tell her parents about her problems, it was the thought of disappointing them once again with a mistake she was making.

A horrible, horrible mistake.

She was no longer aware of which way she’d gone, as all shops around her seemed unfamiliar, yet she could’ve sworn she hadn’t messed up any turns in her route.

Wherever she was though, was a beautifully quaint, with antique streetlights and a cobbled road. Shop windows held curtains made from white lace, and showed off vintage clothes and items for a real bargain.

Must be one of those vintage sales, she figured, as her eyes grazed along cars with brands that were so old she couldn’t remember the names of them. Stores like these must attract the more interesting people with vehicles like those.

It was when she saw a polished and brand-new-looking typewriter in one of the windows, she paused. Above it, she saw her own reflection; a puffy reddened face stained with an ongoing array of tears.

“I really hope you’re not crying because you want that typewriter so awfully bad,” a voice spoke.

She whipped around, coming face to face with a man who was giving her a kind look. His eyes were hazel, matching the brown suit he wore, and his head shaved to a buzzcut. He had sharp features, and still looked awfully British.

“I- Uh… No, I’m not,” she stuttered, trying to wipe the waterworks away with her sleeve.

The man then held out a folded cotton handkerchief to her, along with a smile as an attempt to cheer her up. She gratefully accepted both.

“Not any bloke I’d need to beat up, is there?”

She laughed blubberingly, “I don’t think that would be the solution to my problems, but thank you.”

“Thank god,” he huffed, “Because to be quite honest, I can’t throw a punch for the life of me. I would’ve had to ask one of my mates to do it for me, and cheer him on as he’d won my own fight.”

“I don’t think that would count as your fight,” she chuckled.

“Defending a lady’s honour is always my fight,” he replied. He shook his head, “Apologies for the rudeness, miss. Haven’t even properly introduced myself. I’m Miles.”

She gave him her own name, “and it’s nice to meet you, Miles. May I ask what you’re doing about this late?”

He gave her a strange look, “Why, it’s the perfect hour, why wouldn’t I be about? The night has only just started, and one of my close mates is preforming in the pub nearby. Want to join?”

She only took a moment to hesitate, before wilfully agreeing. “Sure.”

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

Replay ch. 3

Chapter is rated M

------------------------------------

Rayla got up at seven, eyes heavy from the lack of sleep last night.  “Noooo.  UGH.” She turned to angrily glare at her alarm that had interrupted her rain noises.  Aberdeen wasn’t the rainiest place in the world, but the sound of a rain storm always helped put her to sleep.  Her mum and da always joked she was named ‘Rayla’ because she was born right when the moon shone through a stormy night.  

Rayla went through her emails quickly, making a note in her phone to call both sets of her parents this weekend.  She missed the days in Scotland when Runaan would speak French with her and talk cheese or helping Ethari in his jewelry business.  Runaan ran the books while Ethari ran the artistic side, his work with metal and jewel placement both tasteful and modern while taking classic elements from Celtic art.  

Her parents had yet to retire from being bodyguards, but they regaled her with stories of Africa and Asia and Australia, how kind people were, the different foods and cultures. Sometimes, she wished she could have grown up going with them.  Other times, she knew they had made the right choice leaving her with Runaan and Ethari. They wouldn’t have had much time for her anyways.

Sighing, she rolled out of bed.  She had a breakfast date with Corvus before she had to be at the office.  God.  She hated those pricks sometimes; a lot of old money lived in that office.  She had thought she was leaving classism behind when she did her study abroad in the States for her law degree.  Apparently, America just hid their classism really well instead of openly displaying it like they did back in the UK.  

She lived well, was paid well, did better than anyone had expected her to do, probably.  She had been more focused on athletics as a kid, leading Runaan to force her into ballet (‘you already know some French. It’s perfect!’), Ethari insisting on Irish step dance (‘Lain’s mother was Irish.  It’s a world wide sensation, Rayla!’), and her own parents signing her up for kickboxing when she was in high school during their vacation from work. Her teachers had been frustrated that she was smart but didn’t ‘apply herself’ whatever that meant.  She got good grades, did better in college, got into law school in another country, and passed the bar.  She could apply herself just fine.  She just liked to be active.

Rayla sighed as she stepped into the hot water of her shower.  She had made a good choice buying this shower head.  Slowly, she felt the burn that had started last night begin to build back up again.  Green eyes entered her mind again, as well as a voice that she would love to hear calling her name out while she rode him.  ‘Calm down, Rayla.’  She couldn’t meet Corvus horny.  Rayla sighed, putting her forehead against the shower wall before starting to massage her breast.  She tried to imagine it was Callum’s hand stroking her, dipping down to touch between her thighs where she ached.

Would his hands be soft or rough?  There hadn’t been any obvious calluses when she had shaken his hand at the cheese shop. She moaned, dipping her fingers into her wet heat.  Her thighs rubbed together as she tried to chase that elusive release.  She didn’t have time for this.  The more she tried to speed up, the more it just wasn’t happening. Growling in frustration, she tried to play with her clit, breathing deeply as she finally found a rhythm that was working.  Rayla bit her bottom lip and sighed as she came, inwardly crowing with satisfaction. There was no worse start to a day than being unable to cum after a wet dream or being too horny to function.  

She washed and dried off, stretching her muscles before dressing.  The green pantsuit and black top showed off her toned figure without drawing too much attention to any one place.  Her heels made her even taller and, hopefully, a little intimidating to jerky clients or coworkers.  She grabbed her purse and went out the door.  When she finally made it to her car, she leaned her head on the steering wheel. Had she really started her day off by masturbating to a guy she met YESERDAY?  

She shook her head, driving off until she made it to the little café she and Corvus frequented. Corvus also worked in the same building, but for a different law office, specifically divorce.  Rayla had no idea how he did it, but someone had to.  She saw Corvus at their usual table, smiling at something on his phone.  “Your boyfriend sent you a naughty text?”

Corvus smirked back up at her.  “Nope. Just something about one of my latest clients.  Well, their soon-to-be-ex.”

“Good news or bad news?”

“Well, considering it’s a custody case, it’s good for my client.”

“Abuse?” Rayla frowned.

“I would not be smirking if that was the case.  No.  Apparently, the ex has been mismanaging the children’s money.  Lying about putting it in a back account for them and spending it on gambling debts.”

“You don’t call that abuse?” Rayla smiled up at the waiter who came over, ordering an earl grey, a coffee to go, and an omelet.

“Thank you,” Corvus nodded to the waiter.  “I do, personally, but everyone views that differently.  The children were never struck, no record of emotional, mental, or oral abuse.  It seemed like it was going to go 50-50 custody, which tends to be the ideal situation, but my client was concerned about the gambling problem.”

“So best case scenario, gambler’s anonymous and supervised visits eventually leading to 50-50 custody?”

“Best case scenario. Probably won’t happen, but we can all hope.”

Rayla shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it.  I didn’t do criminal law or divorce law because I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing evidence of child abuse all day.”

“It’s a lot.  We try to spread those cases around as much as we can, because it gets to be too much when it’s all you see.  When police reports come into play, it’s even worse.” Rayla nodded.  “While you work for old money.  Tell me, how’s Kasef doing?”

“Hitting on me, again. Got upset when I told him off for glaring at a guy in a cheese shop for asking me a question.”

“He comes down to our office on his breaks and hits on half the women there.”

“Believe me, I know.  His father gets really upset about it.”

“How is Mr. Ahling?”

“Still insisting we call him ‘Mr. Ahling’ and not the proper ‘Mr. Patel.’  His health is starting to go downhill, so we’re hoping his daughter graduates soon and can start to learn how to take over the office.”

Corvus shook his head, smiling at the waiter with her when they brought their food.  “Thank you.  I’m telling you, join our office.  You could be really good at gathering information.”

“Thank you, but, no thanks. I grew up believing in true love with both sets of my parents.  I’d like to continue believing in it.”

“You still believe in love. I love my boyfriend so much we’re moving in together.”

“Well, congratulations to you both.  You moving in to his apartment or is he moving into your’s?”

“Mine’s bigger and closer to both our jobs.”

They talked work for a few more minutes, keeping an eye on the time.  Rayla sighed as she looked at Corvus.  “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“My hairdresser would love to do your hair.  Those layers are cute, but maybe you need a new look.”

“Ha ha.  My hair’s fine, thanks.  You remember me mentioning a guy in the cheese shop?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he asked to draw me. He said it’s cool that I brought a friend and I would like to bring you.  I don’t really have any other friends in the city.”  She finished her tea, opening the lid of her coffee to put some cream in.

“He seem legit?”

“I saw his art.  He also runs a YouTube channel with his friends and little brother?”

“What’s his name?”

“Callum Evans.”

“Katolis Squad!”  Corvus smiled, clapping his hands together.

“You know them?”

“Of course.  They do a lot of food stuff.  I found this café because of one of their videos.  Also, my boyfriend’s a baker, remember?  Ezran and Claudia do a series on baking and sweets and he likes to watch them.  Callum Evans is also kind of known in the art scene in town and I’ve met his aunt a few times.  Lovely lady, so’s her wife.”

“Huh.  Apparently, I’m out of it.”

“You just arrived in Katolis last year.  I grew up here.  You remember my boyfriend’s beignets you liked so much?”

“Those were delicious.”

“Ezran’s recipe.  His grandmother’s friend was from Louisiana and she taught him how to make them like it’s done in the French-Quarter.”

“Huh.  So, you’ll come with me?”

“Sure.  Callum Evans seems harmless, but since he already approved it, might as well take advantage.”

“Agreed.  I can take care of myself, but, you never know.”

“Where’s it going to be?”

“At his house.  He said he has an art studio there.  At least, that’s what he implied.  I’m waiting for a text from him to iron out the details.”

“Maybe he’ll ask to draw you nude?”  Rayla flushed red at that, looking down at her almost finished breakfast.  “Oh?  Something you want to share with the class?  A reason you were distracted during kickboxing last night, perhaps?”

Rayla glared up at him, taking a few harsh bites of her omelet.  She swallowed, keeping eye contact with him.  “He’s cute, I’m single, that’s it.”

“He’s single.”  Rayla paused.  “He broke-up with his last girlfriend months ago.  She made a big Instagram post about it, saying they wanted to focus on their careers.  Which was weird because no one even knew they were in a relationship.”

“So, he’s probably used to people trying to use him for fame.”

“Most likely.  He keeps to himself.”

“I saw that when I went digging online.  His step-father’s the governor and his mother was in the military for a few years, rising through the ranks very quickly.”

“Yeah.  They try to keep their channel separate from all that, though.  People are always asking them questions about it and they’ll either ignore it or say they aren’t a mouthpiece for Harrow Williams.”

“Fair.  I’ll text you the details.  I’ve got my coffee, gotta go.”  Rayla put a $20 on the table and waved good-bye to Corvus, leaving to head to the office.  Well, this just got even more interesting, didn’t it?

---------------------------------------------

Callum rubbed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling.  All night, he had dreamed of Rayla.  Her white hair down and around bare shoulders, purple eyes starting deep into his. ‘Come on, Callum.  Make me feel good.’  He tossed and turned in his bed, suddenly thankful for the fact he lived alone.  His cock was at attention and it was not going to be going down any time soon.  Rolling out of bed, he took his sleep clothes off as he made his was to his shower.  He winced at the cold water, but sighing in relief as his erection went down. He had no time to rub one out.  He was already running late for his meeting with Ezran, Soren, and Claudia.  They had to go over whether or not to actually hire a crew now that their channel had six million subscribers.  

It would be a smart move. Claudia’s home-made beauty series was getting a lot of attention, as were her and Ez’s baking series.  Soren and Ezran’s sub channel and Twitch channel was getting a lot of attention in the video game community for their let’s plays and commentary.  Even Callum’s art sub channel was getting more and more attention.  He was just worried about going bigger because, if they did, what if drama followed?  It had been a PR nightmare when his ex-girlfriend had posted on Instagram about going their separate ways for their careers.  Callum had asked her to keep it between them because he wanted to keep his personal life and his YouTube life separate.  She had apparently felt that, after they broke-up, what he wanted didn’t matter.

As he quickly ate breakfast, he couldn’t get the idea of Rayla from his dreams or of her in a forest out of his head.  Those eyes haunted his every though.  ‘She’s a freaking fae.  That must be it.’  Callum rubbed his eyes again, sighing.  He sent a quick text to Rayla asking if she would be alright with her modeling for him in the woods outside of town.  She would probably say ‘no’, but Callum needed to get this image out of his head and out of his system.  He had just met her and she was distracting him already.  Still, Callum wasn’t so sure he could ever get someone like her out of his system.  Even if they had sex a week straight, he would probably still crave her.  ‘Stop getting ahead of yourself, Callum.  She’s probably in a relationship, you just want to draw her, and you have other things to focus on right now.’  

All day, as the group discussed the benefits to do YouTube full-time, barring Ezran because he was still in college, a Scottish accent and a pair of soft eyes stayed in the back of his mind.  Beckoning him to find her and take her under a waterfall in the forest.  Would she scratch and like it rough or did she like to go soft and slow, like a wave?  

Ezran snapped his fingers in his face.  “Callum, focus.”

“Right.  So, I think taking a step forward is a good idea….” He didn’t have time to be thinking about faeries in suits from Scotland.  

[oikawas-bae]

Dinner Time

What about school?

WC: 1.2k

Previous • pt.9 • pt.10

You knew you had started to have teeny tiny feelings for Bokuto but recently, the affection you had for him had multiplied by the millions. You weren’t just thinking ‘wow, Bokuto is so amazing, he’s skilled at volleyball and he’s impossibly kind.’ Now you were thinking, ‘Woah, Bokuto looks so handsome today, he doesn’t even try…’ It wasn’t just that, the sound of his voice was enough to envelope your body with warmth and whenever he spoke, you were entranced. He had no idea that he affected you so deeply, perhaps that was the worst of it. He was oblivious and couldn’t put you out of your misery by rejecting your feelings. That was assuming he didn’t return your feelings but to you, the opposite seemed impossible. Bokuto was too aloof to like anybody, especially someone so strikingly different than him. He would want someone that could capture his passion or even match it, they would catch his attention. But you, as mellow as you were, didn’t stand a chance.

It was dinner on Friday, you had finished your food and were working on an article for the school newspaper. Bokuto wasn’t quite finished because he always talked too much and his food sat on his plate until he remembered it was there and stuffed a forkful into his mouth. You were working on Bokuto’s laptop and a notification popped up, an email with the subject ‘Your Purchase was Confirmed!’ Curiously, you clicked and were redirected to his email, the attachment was a relatively expensive dog bed. But Bokuto didn’t have a dog…

“You weren’t supposed to see that! It was supposed to be a surprise for PuffPuff” He threw himself over the couch and landed with his body sprawled all over the couch, his foot on your shoulder.

“Please don’t tell me you spent so much on my dog.”

He readjusted himself, “Don’t worry about it, I live comfortably.”

Flicking his forehead, you pursed your lips, “You should be saving that for college next year. Housing is expensive you know?”

He slumped, “I don’t know, I’m just gonna go somewhere with a good volleyball team. It doesn’t really matter if it’s prestigious or not. And a school nearby has one of the best teams in the country so I think I’ll go there and commute”

Your head lowered and you looked back at the laptop, lamenting over the fact that Bokuto would most likely cease to be in your life in a couple of months. You would be losing this boy that had become such a central part of your life.

“What? You’re thinking something. Tell me- remember that thing we discussed about communicating more-”

You sighed, placing the laptop on the footstool, “I just forgot that we don’t have the same plans and we’ll be going to different universities...”

He eyed you dubiously, “And?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his lack of awareness, “We probably won’t see each other after we graduate, Kotarou.”

You said it with a dismal grin and Bokuto couldn’t hold back his loud gasp (your parents looked to see if anybody was hurt), “How could you smile while saying that? I know you said you lack reaction skills but that’s just mean!”

“Kotarou, please calm down. I was laughing at how it took you this long to figure this out.” You dodged his playful punches.

He stopped, “Wait, where are you going for school?”

It shouldn’t have made you so nervous but Bokuto looked fearful for the first time, like he was losing just as much as you were when high school finished, “I don’t know yet but I applied to several schools, including the close one you want to go to. But my first choice is L‘Université du Seine. ”

“Huh?”

“It’s a French school. It’s extremely competitive for journalism and writing majors and that’s what I wanna do.”

He still looked confused, “Why would you want to go to a French school?”

“It’s a really good school and the networking is amazing since people come from all over to attend. I could end up working in some exotic publishing company.” You lit up and he couldn’t help but frown at how something you could be so passionate about would tear you away from him.

“I’m guessing acceptance rates aren’t very high.” He was skeptical.

You snapped out of your daydream, “Yeah...but I applied for Early Action so they’re letting me know at the end of this month.”

“That is early.” He sat back, holding back his comment for fear of getting into another fight with you.

_______

Now aware that there was a possibility he’d never see you again in a couple of months, Bokuto was desperate to spend as much time with you as he could. But this had to be the best-worst thing he could do considering how nervous you got from seeing him. He would walk you to school, walk you to classes you didn’t have together and even invited you to Akaashi’s house to play video games. Akaashi didn’t mind if you could help him tame Bokuto and you weren’t bad company either.

You swung open his fridge to grab some snacks when you spotted a small box, decorated with pastel colors and a ribbon wrapping around it. You froze, “Wait...Akaashi….do you have....”

Concerned, Akaashi walked over to you and followed your gaze, his eyes landing on the box, “Oh yeah, macarons. Go ahead and take them if you want. I’m not a sweets person really.”

You sniffed deeply as if already tasting the macarons by just thinking about them. You snatched them and thanked Akaashi with a bow to the floor.

“Kotarou, macarons!”

“Macarons?!”

The two of you practically inhaled the box within a matter of minutes, Bokuto was praising the heavens for each bite. “Sweet, holy...this...this is really the best...”

“Thank the french.” Akaashi watched the spectacle from behind the couch. Bokuto stopped eating midbite, “The French? Like where your university is (y/n)?”

You nodded.

Akaashi was interested now, he pushed his foot off the wall, making his way to you, “What french school?”

“L’université du Seine.”

He broke into an impressed chuckled, “You applied? That’s amazing!”

You looked at your macaron embarrassed, “Yeah...I’m supposed to get a call this week to let me know if I passed the preliminary phase and qualify for an interview.”

Bokuto was visibly upset behind you and Akaashi scowled at him, knowing why he was so upset, which he thought was ridiculous. Bokuto should be happy for you but he looked like a child with his arms crossed at the store because he didn’t get the toy he wanted.

You noticed the face Akaashi was making and were about to question it until your phone rang. You held it to your ear. Bokuto leaned in close to listen.

“y/n l/n?”

“Yes, yes. That’s me.”

“This is L’Universite du Seine. You applied a while ago and we want to congratulate you for qualifying for the next phase of the application process, which we would like to inform you about via email or text. Does this number work?”

“Yes! It does! Thank you so much!”

Bokuto fell back in defeat and Akaashi nearly got up and beat him for being so inconsiderate. “I qualify!” You pulled the two into a hug, not thinking about how hot you felt from holding Bokuto so close. All you could think about was the amazing opportunity to come.

Taglist: @miyulovestowrite @hqprotectionsquad @slothplantsworld @lalaloverss @takingyouruwus @holophil @suguggg

I FINALLY NAMED THE SERIES!! WOO YEa, and if y’all haven’t tried macarons, get on that shii, also!!

Go check out @iwachans-beefyarms, they’re new but they’ve got some good writes over there 👀

[artificialqueens]

Blue Neighborhood Series: WILD (Crystal/Nicky) - Mac

AN: Hi there, this is the first of a series of oneshots based off of Troye Sivan’s Blue Neighborhood album. The basic premise is that all the season 12 girls live in one neighborhood but have very different lives. Each song off the album applies to one of them/a pair of them. And we get to see how each of their lives intertwine. Does that make any sense? Who knows.

All my love to Meggie for beta-ing. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Crystal can’t get her mind off her new neighbor.

Crystal groaned loudly as she heard yet another crash from the house next door.

She heard a few curses and another loud banging noise before the cul-de-sac went blissfully silent. Crystal fist-pumped the air as now she could finally, finally get some sleep. Who the hell moved into a new house at midnight?

Unluckily enough, another noise started sounding below Crystal’s window. This noise was softer and didn’t immediately warrant a groan of distaste. No, it sounded an awful lot like singing. The voice was muffled, but Crystal became more and more sure the voice was singing as the notes travelled up a floor to her room.

The person sounded… rather good. Crystal hated to admit that their new neighbors, who had the bright idea of moving houses in the middle of the night, were doing anything well, but the fact persisted.

The singing was rather good. And now Crystal was both awake and intrigued. So now, of course, Crystal had to get up to peer out the window and see who was doing the rather good singing.

It was dark. Midnight. So she could barely make out the figure, but it looked to be a girl about her age, high school senior, maybe junior. She was carrying boxes from the back of the moving truck into the house.

Fuck it,Crystal thought  She was already snooping; she might as well snoop more. She opened her window slowly, wincing as it creaked from disuse. She went slowly, drawing up the frame until the warm night air danced across her face.

She could hear the song more clearly now, still didn’t recognize it, but the singer was definitely a girl. It took Crystal a few more minutes to realize the song wasn’t in English. Her three years of French seemed to fail her in that moment, other than identifying that the song was in fact, French.

The girl looked to have blonde hair, or maybe that was just a trick of the faint garage light that illuminated her. Crystal leaned a bit closer to her window to get a better look, in the process she nearly knocked the screen out of the damn thing and cursed rather loudly.

There was a scuffling from under her window and Crystal ducked down so she couldn’t be seen.

“Hello?”

The voice was heavily accented.

“Is someone there?”

Crystal held her breath, not that it would help much, she was a whole story above her neighbor. Still, the intensity of the moment made her wary.

The girl must have given up looking because she went right back to moving boxes, but her singing turned into light humming, and Crystal surprised herself by being sad at that fact.

The days passed, and Crystal saw neither head nor tail of their new neighbor.

She brought it up on Wednesday, during lunch, or what was considered their lunch period.

Freshman year, Crystal would always steal away into the art room to work on her unfinished projects at any given moment. This included lunch, breaks between classes, and sometimes even during her other classes. After about a year of her doing this, and her friends complaining about never seeing her, they finally decided it would be easier to hole up in the stuffy art room with her rather than brave the bustling cafeteria.

Crystal nonchalantly mentioned the racket that occurred the other night while trying to seem invested in the unfinished painting in front of her.

“Oh yeah, the new girl, what’s her name, Nicole? Nina?” Jackie shrugged. “Something with an N.”

Jackie seemed unbothered by the appearance of the newest member to their neighborhood, as she went right back to studying for their chemistry exam. Heidi shrugged too and continued looking over Jackie’s shoulder as she studied for their chemistry exam.

“I think she’s French,” Crystal threw out.

Jackie hummed noncommittally, absorbed in her studies. Crystal was just about to shrug it off when Aiden piped up from the table beside her.  “You talkin about the new girl? The one that moved in at the asscrack of dawn?”

Crystal nodded.

“Her name is Nicolette, goes by Nicky. Moved from Marseilles, France. Only child. Seemingly lives with her single mother.”

Crystal and their present company looked up from what they were doing to stare wide-eyed at Aiden.

She just shrugged. “I know people.”

Crystal didn’t press further. She turned back to her unfinished painting and lamented that it wouldn’t paint itself.

But at the same time, her mind was reeling.

Nicolette.

Crystal liked that name. It seemed… fitting in a way.  

She went through the rest of her day with little care for anything else, Nicolette on repeat in her head.

She didn’t know why she was so absorbed in this girl. She shockingly didn’t seem to mind either.

When Crystal got home, she finally shook her strange stupor. She let the dogs out, made herself a snack and went up to her room to start on the metric fuckton of homework she had to do.

She sat down, opened her textbook, and promptly closed it again. She did this twice more, before actually starting to read the words inside.

Her focus drifted after the first few lines, along with her eyes. and she soon found herself looking out her window, but not just aimlessly, looking directly into the eyes of the neighbor she had been obsessing over for most of the day.

Crystal startled herself when she realized what she was doing, and had the decency to blush. The girl, Nicolette, Nicky she mentally corrected, smiled a bit at her clearly flustered state. Crystal felt her stomach flip.

This was the first time she actually got to see Nicky in the daylight, albeit through a crusty window screen, but goddamn, she was just as beautiful as her singing voice. If not more so.

Nicky waved after a few awkward moments of the two staring at each other. Crystal waved back immediately and then mentally kicked herself for looking too eager.She’s gonna think I’m a freak.

But Nicky didn’t close her window shade in horror, she didn’t look disgusted by the mere sight of Crystal. No. What she actually did was look around her room for a moment before holding up a finger. Wait a second, she mouthed.

And Crystal found her mind supplying that she would wait much longer than that if Nicky asked her to. But she just nodded.

Nicky smiled and got up to search her room for something.

She came back a moment later with a notebook and a pen. She scribbled something down before pressing the notebook to the window.

Hi I’m Nicky

Crystal couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on her face. She pulled out one of her hundreds of sketchbooks and wrote her own message.

I’m Crystal

Nicky smiled and wrote her response.

Hi Crystal

Crystal giggled to herself.

Hi Nicky

Nicky went to write something else down, but Crystal beat her to it.

You could just open your window, you know?

Nicky grinned, but jotted down something else.

I thought this was more romantic.

Crystal couldn’t stop herself from blushing. Nicky was joking. Surely.

Crystal didn’t have time to process the possibility of Nicky not joking because the girl in question was now opening up her window.  

Crystal followed suit and tried to not look like a complete fool, evidently, the world was out to get her because the screen from her window fell lifelessly to the grass below her.

Nicky laughed.

And oh, they could hear each other now.

“I meant to do that,” Crystal tried to cover for herself.

Nicky only laughed harder. “Sure, you did.”

And oh, Nicky was definitely French. Her accent smoothly tied up in her words. It made her impossibly more fascinating.

“Hello there, neighbor.”

“Hi.”

“How you doin’ with moving in?”

Nicky sighed, “Oh, you know, I’m drowning in cardboard boxes, and I want to die, but what else is new.”

Crystal nodded, “I feel that.”

Nicky smiled softly, but averted her eyes, “I’m sorry I have not introduced myself. I’m not the best at English.”

“You’re from France, yeah?”

“What gave it away, the accent, or the good looks?” Nicky winked.

“The flag hanging up behind you.” Crystal pointed to the very evident French flag on the far wall of Nicky’s bedroom.

“Oh.”

It was Crystal’s turn to laugh.

And then abruptly stop laughing.

The sudden silence was awkward, and Crystal found herself tracing the lines of the fallen window screen on the grass.

Nicky also seemed uncomfortable by the sudden lack of sound. So uncomfortable in fact that she motioned back to her room, “Umm, I should… get back to-”

“Yeah! Yeah, me too.”

Nicky nodded. “Umm, see ya?”

“Yeah, I’ll see ya.”

Nicky smiled and went to close her window, but just before it could shut, Crystal called out, “Same time tomorrow?”

Nicky looked up at her and smiled.

“Sure.”

Crystal nodded and closed her own window as Nicky pulled her blind down.

She found herself constantly looking over to see if Nicky’s blind went up.

It didn’t.

Crystal couldn’t possibly concentrate now. Her mind replayed Nicky’s laugh like a loop in her head.

Maybe that made her crazy. To be so infatuated with a girl after knowing her for less than ten minutes.

Heidi certainly thought so.

“Girl, you sound clit-matized.”

Aiden looked up from her sculpture to look confusedly between Crystal and Heidi, “What the hell is that?”

“You know, like dickmatized, but she’s a girl? Clitmatized,” Heidi explained.

“That’s not a real thing,” Aiden said.

“Well now it is, hoe,” Heidi shot back.

“Guys!” Crystal exclaimed. “We were talking about me and my problems.”

Aiden rolled her eyes. “So what, you have a crush on her. You’re bein’ a little creepy. We’ve all been there.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Jackie chimed in.

“I think it’s creepy,” Heidi called.

“I think you should talk to the bitch more,” Aiden said.

“I think I’ll just die in a hole,” Crystal lamented, throwing her head down on her open homework.

Crystal decided that dying in a hole would be counterproductive to figuring out why she was so infatuated with Nicky. Hence, she settled for trying to finish the homework she had neglected from the previous night.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Maybe it was because she had something to look forward to. Maybe it was just that high school was boring as hell.

Crystal didn’t know.

What she did know was that as soon as she watched Heidi, Jackie, and Aiden close their front doors, she sprinted upstairs to her room.

She found Nicky had beat her to it and was staring dreamily out her own window. So she had most probably seen Crystal’s frantic running.

God, just kill me now.

Crystal put on a brave face and marched over to her window, opening it with greater care this time around so as not to dislodge the screen.

“Hey there neighbor.”

“Hey there.”

“How was your day?”

“Ugh, god, it felt like it would never end! I swear high school is such a scam.”

Nicky chuckled. “Well, what do you want to do after?”

“Realistically or in my fantasy?”

“Oh fantasy, definitely.” Nicky smiled.

Crystal smiled and felt a bit of the tension in her mind dissipate, “Well, in my French vanilla fantasy, I get into this really prestigious art school, like the Juilliard of art schools. And on my first day of class, I create this masterpiece. Better than Van Gogh.”

“Naturally,” Nicky added.

Crystal giggled and continued on, allowing herself to really ham up the details. Nicky seemed to smile more when she did. “They see my potential, and they fast track me to the big leagues. The MET, the Smithsonian. Boom. One cold day in February, that masterpiece from before is hung up. I am undercover in the crowd, observing everyone’s reactions. After a while, everyone leaves, except for one guy. He is staring at my painting with an unreadable expression. I approach him. He is crying. He is moved to tears by my masterpiece.”

“He wants to buy it?”

“Better. He’s a washed-up artist, hasn’t created in years after his wife died tragically.”

“How is that better?”

“I’m getting there!” Nicky held up her hands in surrender, and chuckled lightly. “So he’s a washed-up artist, and he loves my painting and offers to mentor me. I decline.”

“Why would you-”

“I offer to help him get back into his art. We build a friendship even though he’s a cynical old man who doesn’t laugh at my jokes. But he starts creating again. He and I open up our own gallery in New York City. And people come from all over the world to get a look at our art. But the best part is, on the opening night of our gallery, I meet his daughter.”

Nicky rolled her eyes fondly, “Let me guess, you fall in lov-”

“We fall in love.”

Nicky laughed. So hard she snorted a bit and then laughed at herself for snorting. Crystal went giggling right along with her.

“I like that world,” Nicky spoke softly. The fondness in her voice struck Crystal like a slap.

“Me too.” She smiled.

It was at that moment that everything changed. Suddenly, the tension that hung between them was gone. It was like the universe decided they had suffered from their mutual awkwardness enough. Conversation flowed smoothly from the two windows, and before either of them could blink, the sun had set.

They didn’t seem to notice, talking long into the night about anything and everything under the stars.

Nicky talked about her childhood. Growing up in France and Morocco. She had so many stories from so many different places, Crystal worried she’d never hear them all.

Maybe that’s why they stayed up so late.

Maybe Crystal worried that when the sun rose, the spell would be broken, and Nicky would go back to just being the girl that lived next to her. And not this incredibly fascinating human that seemed to be equally as fascinated with her.

Unfortunately, Crystal wasn’t superhuman, and after the third consecutive yawn, Nicky sentenced them both to some well-needed rest.

Crystal agreed, begrudgingly shutting her window and giving one last wave to her new friend.

They went on this way for the next week. Crystal rushing home to find Nicky waiting for her, window propped, a smile etched into the corners of her eyes.

Crystal swore she got more beautiful every day.

On one such afternoon, Crystal finally got the courage to ask Nicky about the night she moved in.

“Were you the one singing the other night?”

Nicky’s head shot up in surprise.“Oh, god, did I wake you up?”

“No! No!” Crystal lied. “You sounded really good,” Crystal said truthfully.

Nicky blushed at the compliment and ducked her head. “Now you are just winding me up.”

“No really!” Crystal insisted. “You sing beautifully.”

“I really don’t-”

“Wait hold up!” Crystal cut her off and made her way over to the far corner of her room. She picked up the worn down guitar and came back over to sit by the window.

“You play?”

“Not since I was ten, but it’s just like riding a bicycle, right?”

Crystal tried to play a chord and the screech from the instrument rang out like a gunshot.

“Yep, just like a bike,” Nicky teased.

Crystal fiddled around with the tuning until the noise emanating from the instrument sounded a bit more like music and a bit less like a feral animal.

She played softly, getting reacquainted with where to put her fingers and what the hell a strumming pattern was. Nicky just watched her with a soft smile and chimed in with praise and some teasing words until the afternoon sun had turned into moonlight.

They had gone so long without talking that when Crystal finally spoke, her voice cracked. She blushed, but Nicky only smiled warmly.

“Do you know Landslide?”

Nicky nodded.

“Okay, gimme a second.” Crystal grabbed her laptop and pulled up the chords, before beginning to strum lightly.

Nicky nodded along to the first few notes, humming lightly through the verse. When the chorus came, she finally started to sing.

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing

‘Cause I’ve built my life around you

Crystal couldn’t help the smile on her face. Nicky still had her accent when she sang. The fact made Crystal’s chest feel fuller than it should have.

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I’m getting’ older, too

Crystal cheekily tried to chime in for the last line.

Said, I’m getting older too

Nicky looked up at her pleased. “You can sing, you can play guitar, and you are an artist? Is there anything you can’t do?”

Crystal was very close to saying something stupid like ‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’

But luckily, a voice from Nicky’s house called out before she could make a fool of herself.

“NICKY!”

Nicky sighed and turned around to yell back, “Coming, Mom!”

She shot an apologetic look to Crystal who just motioned to say ‘Go ahead. I’ll be here.’

“See you tomorrow?”

Crystal nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

But Crystal didn’t see Nicky tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

Her blinds remained shut tight for the next week.

“Maybe she hates you.”

“Aiden!” Jackie scolded.

“What, you were both thinking it.”

Jackie shook her head and turned to face Crystal. “She could just be going through stuff. She just moved, yeah?”

Crystal nodded.

“So she’s probably unpacking still, or getting ready to start a new school. Or literally any number of things other than her hating you.” Jackie shot a glare at Aiden who held her hands up in surrender.

“Or she died.”

“Heidi!”

“Just me thinkin’ it?” Heidi looked to Aiden who shook her head. “Just me, okay.”

Crystal groaned. She had probably scared Nicky off. Probably scared her off so much she never wanted to see Crystal again. Probably scared her so much she was moving back to France.

Probably scared her so much she was… waiting by Crystal’s locker after homeroom.

“Hey there, neighbor,” Nicky smiled.

And oh god, Nicky up close was even more breathtaking. Her long blonde hair tied into the most perfect braid and her outfit was so trendy and cute and, Jesus Christ, she smelled good too.

“Sorry, I missed you the past couple of days. We went to stay with family and it was so short notice I didn’t have time to tell you.”

“You’re… oh.”

Crystal’s brain was still trying to process that Nicky was here. That she was real. And apparently going to their school. She looked to the locker Nicky was leaned up against and saw her name in cute cursive letters on the front.

“We’re… locker neighbors?”

“Yeah. I asked the principal to put me next to you.” Crystal must not have given the right response because Nicky’s face fell and she quickly started apologizing. “Oh god, I am so sorry I should have asked! I wasn’t even thinking. I don’t mean to cramp your style”

Crystal couldn’t help but laugh, “No! Nicky, Jesus, if anything you’d be helping my style.”

“What do you mean? I like your style.”

“Oh. I… Forget it.” Crystal shook her head to clear the blush from her cheeks.“You want a tour?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Crystal smiled in spite of herself and held out her arm. Nicky gave a chuckle and took it graciously.

The two frolicked about the school, under the guise of a tour. They chatted and laughed and caught up with each other’s lives.

Crystal hadn’t realized how much she had missed this. This ease between them. The way their thoughts seemed to run together like ink. It was refreshing to have someone who’s brain worked like yours.

When the bell finally rang for lunch, Crystal steered Nicky away from the mass of teenagers heading for the cafeteria, and toward the art room.

The two entered to find Jackie and Aiden already in a heated discussion about which version of A Star Is Born was better. Heidi was sitting next to Jackie just watching on in amusement.

The three of her friends did a double take when they noticed Crystal’s guest.

“Hey guys, this is our neighbor Nicky.”

“Our?” Nicky asked.

“Yeah. Heidi lives across the street from me, Jackie lives on the other side of Heidi, and Adien lives next to you.”

“Oh, well hello there neighbors.” Nicky smiled and waved.

Heidi’s eyes lit up in recognition.“Oh, is this the girl you been talkin our ear off about? The one you’re kinda in love with?” Jackie elbowed Heidi in the ribs.

Crystal’s whole body flushed crimson and she opened her mouth to respond, but Nicky beat her to it.

“Oh, so you’re in love with me?” Nicky asked teasingly.

“No! No. God, no,” Crystal lied unconvincingly.  

She looked over to her friends for backup.

Jackie caught on and tried to cover, “No, Crystal has had this insane crush on… on… on Gigi!” Crystal winced at that name. “Yeah, Gigi. Since we were little.” Jackie nodded.

Heidi clearly didn’t know what was happening as evidenced by the confused expression on her face. “Wait, I thought Crystal broke up with her-”

Crystal cut her off, raising her voice to drown out Heidi’s “Yeah, I’ve had this silly crush on this cheerleader. It’s kinda pathetic. Like just cause we grew up together doesn’t mean she would ever look at me like that.” Crystal laughed nervously.

Nicky looked unconvinced, and a little… disappointed. But the expression disappeared a second later. “Well she’s stupid if she doesn’t think you’re cute.”

“Amen,” Aiden called.

Nicky nodded and turned back to Crystal. “Anyway, enough of that sad stuff, let’s see those paintings you are always talking about.”