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aestheticaxolotl · 4 years ago

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V.I.L.E Headcanons

- Graham “Crackle” Calloway grew up in the poorer slims of Sydnee Australia where his parents struggled on a day to day basis to provide food for their 4 kids, Graham, being the oldest son felt the absolute need to help his parents provide for his three younger siblings. Doubling down in school, and getting the best grades he could (B’s and low A’s) and then diving into work as soon as he got out. -Graham started with small odd jobs until he got a part time gig with a rather cranky old electrician who had no love for anyone in his life. But he took Graham on as an apprentice because the stupid kid wouldn’t leave him alone. To his chagrin, the kid took to the job like a house on fire. This became important when he joine V.I.L.E -Tigress came from a troubled home to say the least. Her mom was an alcoholic and her dad was a blue-collared working class man who would gamble and chase after his dreams while squandering all the families money She resented her parents for these reasons and acted out as much as she possibly could, whether by robbing small stores or beating up younger kids on the play ground

-She started out trying to make a quick buck to help her momma pay the bills, not because she was showing kindness to her mom, but because the land lord had threatened to kick them out one too many times, and kept making lewd comments and suggestions that even Tigress would not allow her mother to take.

-El Topo’s story isn’t the happiest, seeing as his mother moved into America when he was very young, unable to afford to bring her husband and son with her at the time. Of course, El Topo’s father was not keen on being left behind and took his 12 year old son, attempting to smuggle him into America. Sadly, this would not end well seeing as El Topo’s father was shot and killed, and he was placed in foster care, unable to contact his mother.

-El Topo got out of the Foster care system when he was 18 and was homeless for a long time. He lived on the streets in Georgia, the last place his mom was having known working. He did everything he could to find his mom and was devastated to learn that his mother had moved to New York, remarried and had a daughter.

-Le Chevre’s mother died giving birth to him in Paris, France. His father being left alone to raise their one and only son, they had married young and had a baby younger, leaving the young father devastated and entirely loving of his young son. Le Chevre’s young life was full of music and love. His father worked as a caretaker in a French Theater, working up with the lights and the set pieces. -Young Le Chevre wasn’t as fascinated with the acting as he was with being high up and above the actors, it gave him a feeling of power and meaning while his father proposed that he take lessons to play instruments for the plays. HE did for about a week to please his hard working father, but took the gold star in thievery. To this day he still leaves large amounts of money on his’s father’s doorsteps as thanks for such a wonderful upbriging.

-Dash Harber grew up with a love of fashion and the stylistic life of the rich and famous. His parents, both very wealthy and distant from him, showered their son with gifts and money for doing nothing but existing. His parents ended up sending him away at the age of 15 (At his request) to his aunt “Cookie Booker” so that he could have a better, proper upbringing.

-Through his ‘Aunt Cookie’, he met the Dear Countess Cleo, who he took a major liking to the Countess, having a childhood crush on her. Cleo found the young gentlemen quiet endearing and took him under her wing, giving him the life he had know that he’d desired at a very young age. This came to bit him in the but when he started working for V.I.L.E. His parent identifying him during a caper and he had to go into hiding for quite a while. (His parents minds were wiped after this incident, as far as they are concerned now, they never had kids).

-Paperstar’s mother was a prostitute in Japan, and gave birth to her from an unknown father. Paperstar was devoted to her mother, even if she was not devoted to her daughter. She was usually there when her mother brought a man home, covering her ears when ever, what her mother called ‘Business work’, started.

-Young Paperstar started stealing from the men who her mother brought home when she was seven, doing this for many years before one man noticed and turned both Paperstar and her mother into the police. This enraged her mother and she disowned Paperstar, leaving the girl alone and vengeful, only wanting to look out for herself. (She might have killed her mom too, I’m still thinking on that one)

-Mimebomb was born in Ireland with their twin brother. When they were young their parents moved them to France. This is where they saw their first ever Mime, their mother had stopped at a shop and 3 year old Mimebomb had wandered off and stopped to watched a man with paint on his face act on a street corner. They realized they were lost and the Mime just... Scooped them up to help them find their mom and twin brother. This REALLY enforced in them that Mimes weren’t scary or freaky. (Their WHOLE family disagrees to this to this day)

-Spoiler, Mimebomb grew obsessed with Mimes and this really worried their parents. They sent him to a Psychologist, one Professor Maelstrom who was doing freelance work. Maelstrom found the phenomena rather interesting and kept track of Mimebomb for a very long time, it was Maelstrom who brought Mimebomb to V.I.L.E and showed them what their true calling was.

-Boris and Vlad.... I don’t have much for them but what I do have is rather... Boris and Vlad grew up in a very unwelcoming community. Russia at the time was very hostile towards outsiders and while their parents (They are not related, family friends in my eyes) had both of them in Russia, they were still not well accepted by their community, often bullied and beaten bloody by other kids, who forced them to clean up the mess after they finished beating them.

-This horrible childhood instilled a rather off form of PTSD and OCD in both of them that leads them to see every mess that a V.I.L.E operative made was something they had to clean up. Somehow, it was their fault and they had to fix and clean and pretend nothing ever happened.

-Cookie Booker is the Aunt of Dash Haber, she ADORES her Nephew and spoiled him rotten when he was a child, basically taking him in when he asked her too. She took great care to raise him the best she could, never having been able to have children herself, an event that let to her husband leaving her and marrying another woman.

-Cookie was also the woman who introduced Countess Cleo to Professor Maelstorm, a very monumental occasion in V.I.L.E history.

-Neal the Eel was just Neal as a kid. His mom and dad were performers in a Circus, a Magician and his Assistant. He used to adore the circus and wanted to be part of it as a contortionist/escape artist. He was bullied for his hypermobility ( similar to double-jointedness, but if it is progressively more serious it can create more problems for someone.) Causing him to end up resenting his upbringing and parents.

When Neal was 16 he began to break IN to prisons and then BREAK BACK OUT with a TON of the criminals inside. This quickly put him on V.I.L.E’s radar and they decided that they really wanted to recruit him. They made the offer and he vowed that he would never be seen as a joke like he was with the circus.

-MooseBoy was not the brightest kid in school, often picked on for being slow or stupid when he was really just a friendly kid with dyslexia. He almost flunked out of school and would have if not for this dorky looking kid who called himself “Otter”. Thus, a tense and rather abusive friendship formed.

-Otterman was the only reason that Mooseboy was able to graduate Highschool. They were a team, he was the brains (Still is) and Mooseboy the brawn (Still is). HE hated the fact that he was smaller and weaker and really took it out on his partner. Their first crime together was breaking into the school and stealing the principal’s desk on a dare.

-Spinkick and his half sister Flytrap have the same father, and different mothers. Their father lived a double life with his paramours only six miles from one and other. This affair was discovered by their moms and the two women ended up murdering their children’s father and then (unironically) falling in love with each other.

-Flytrap and Spinkick’s mothers moved in and the two kids were forced to get along, they ended up really caring about each other and watching each other’s backs and defending each other in school. Their mother’s never got caught by the way, just think about that.

-The Troll never had friends as a kid and met all his good good friends online, including Player (Plot twist?). Player and Troll got along like peanut butter and jelly, becoming a tag team in learning to hack and work with the internet system. The Troll became invested in trying to figure out how to lock down security systems like banks or Jail facilities (Seeing as his father was put in jail for robbing a back and killing a man who tried to stop him).

-This took Player aback and he began to back away from his friendship with The Troll. This didn’t matter to The Troll, he managed to shut down the security system where his father was being kept. This ends sadly due to the fact that his father doesn’t escape, but ends up dying in the break out. This caused him to draw back from people and remain in his room for a very long time.

Thanks for reading my ramble about V.I.L.E Operatives, I’ll be posting one for the Faculty soon!

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queen-of-my-goofball-army · 4 years ago

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Ouran High HCs

For the fifteenth birthday of one of my favorite romantic comedies, and the day that I started watching said romantic comedy with my boyfriend who is relatively new to anime it got me thinking about these characters and how wonderfully diverse their personalities are. The show has 100% chaotic energy and I love it so much. I wanted to look at every major character in the host club (Haruhi, Tamaki, Kyoya, Hikaru, my favorite twin Kaoru, Honey-senpai, and of course Mori-senpai.) using all their personalities and make some head-canons for favorite group of crazies!

Haruhi:

- She/they icon, we stan

- Always preferred to wear more masculine clothes growing up, they were less expensive than the feminine ones. Plus she felt more comfortable in a pair of shorts as opposed to a dress.

- A very active child, she was always running around her neighborhood, going to the park and doing things with her dad.

- Her dad taught her everything that she needed to know about makeup once she became a member of the host club.

- She worked a part time job in order to help her dad pay the bills and to get food money.

- She thought that she was arosexual before joining the host club. Despite the confessions that she got in junior high they either went entirely over her head or she told them that she was too focused on her studies for romance at that time. Of course all that changed when she met our favorite blonde haired himbo goofball.

- She did wind up taking the conversational French with the twins and often times they'll slip into it for practice. Of course, Tamaki always understands when they talk shit about him so they just do it to mess with him.

Tamaki (my favorite):

- Bisexual king, honestly I love that for him out here living his best life.

- He didn't have much of a childhood between constantly needing to be there for his mom and make sure that she was healthy and okay. It's why he made the host club in the first place to live out his childhood that he was robbed of.

- Is actually way smarter academically than most people might think. If you were to look at the class grades he's always right behind Kyoya. He dedicates a lot of his free time to studying. He's not inherently stupid, just naive.

- His mom was the one that got him into cosplay by introducing him to the various kinds of fabrics. It stemmed into a personal interest that he could lose himself in and distract himself from the loneliness.

- He practiced flirting on Kyoya back in middle school for the future host club once he had his heart set on it.

Kyoya:

- In the words of the great immortal J Michael Tatum "Kyoya is probably gay". It was something that didn't even occur to me until I watched him do an Ouran panel and then I was like holy shit the king makes a good point.

- While Tamaki was his gay crisis, he quickly realized that he would spend forever pining after him and eventually shelved his feelings. Tamaki was his best friend and that was more important to him than his feelings.

- Kyoya has always been a really keen observer of people's true intentions. He's excellent at reading people and knowing what they want from him. The only people he has never been able to read perfectly are Tamaki, Kaoru, and Haruhi.

- He originally didn't want to be a doctor but he eventually wanted to prove himself so badly that he told his father that he would surpass his expectations no matter how high they were.

- Doing background checks on people is fascinating to him. It's not just for blackmail purposes but he likes learning people's weaknesses. He's also an excellent chess player.

Hikaru:

- The definitive over protective sibling. Anybody hurts Kaoru they will wish that they were dead. Kaoru is the most important person in his life and he would do anything to protect him.

- His tsundere tendencies come from a place of wanting to protect those he loves not out of anger.

- While he is begrudgingly worse at letting in other people once you fight your way through his walls he's actually a really amazing friend and s/o.

- His love of the fashion industry stems more from the model side of things than anything else. He can't design anything of his own to save his life.

- He never cared about any girls in his life before Haruhi came into his. Even though he didn't know how to deal with his feelings she was the first person who ever really showed that she cared about him.

Kaoru (my preferred Hitachiin sib):

- One big gay disaster that is absolutely crushing on Kyoya (I just learned about this ship today and it has stolen my life juice.) To blush when he's working with Hikaru to please the ladies all he has to do is think of Kyoya in his brother's spot.

- Is the far superior designer that can actually make really beautiful clothes. Most of the costumes that are worn by the club are designed by Kaoru.

- His hair is a lot softer than Hikaru's even though it's the same style, hair product and everything. I think that his would be more poofy and Hikaru's more spikey.

- Kaoru has always felt like he had to work harder to be like his brother that when you spend time with him alone at first it will be almost like you're talking to a replica of Hikaru and not a separate entity. At first it's a little bit awkward but once you get him out of his shell you find what a sweet and amazing person he is.

- Kaoru is an incredible skateboarder. He loves the feeling that he gets from the wind in his hair and designed his own skateboard. A lot of his hobbies outside of the club are athletic related causing him to have a more defined body than his brother since Hikaru is basically a cat.

Honey-senpai: - If this boi could make cakes and pastries for a living without the threat of eating them all he would make the best sweets. He knows when something is just the right amount of sweet and when something is too sweet.

- He learned martial arts to be stronger because he knew that people would try to take advantage of him due to his childlike nature.

- Honey had a fight with his grandmother before she passed away over something completely selfish. That is why he is so attached to Usa-chan.

- Him and Mori were always really close, even as children and understand each other better than anybody.

- His constant animosity between him and his younger brother is because he feels like he is constantly being babied due to his personality.

Mori-senpai:

- Mori has autism. He is also selectively mute. I'm sorry I don't make the rules, the show itself gives them to me.

- Looks like a tough guy but in actuality would give the best hugs. I want a Mori hug. Haruhi probably gets the most Mori hugs because he is immensely protective over her.

- Aro-ace baby but gives the best platonic cuddles to any of the club members that are having parental issues.

- While he prefers spicy over sweet he does have a sweet tooth at random times of the day. Has been sighted at a local Cold Stone five minutes before closing in the dead of winter, while it's snowing outside by Kaoru and Kyoya while they were trying to find a place to get warm while out on a date.

- He actually didn't start his athletic endeavors with kendo, he started with ballet and gymnastics when he was really young.

And that's all my head-canons for the day! Happy anniversary to my favorite ridiculous throw everything against the wall and see what sticks to it romantic comedy. I hope that one day we will either get a season two or at this point it would be better to just do a hard reboot. Hoping that one day we will see our boys animated in high definition, even though I feel like an HD Tamaki would definitely kill me.

#ouran high school host club #ouran headcanons #headcanons #ouran 15th anniversary

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languageek · 5 years ago

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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.

#langblr #language learning #japanese #langblog #languages #successful language learning #language tips #language tumblr #learn japanese #heritage language #linguistics #bilingualism #multilingual #multiethnic

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

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Survey #389

“i’m well aware i’m a danger to myself /�� are you aware i’m a danger to others?”

How much do you weigh? Yeah, we're starting off on a bad foot. If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Putting Roman's used litter in the trash. Do you think you can love someone without trusting them? Hm... I guess you could love them, but it'd be a complicated situation. What’s your opinion on people who go hunting for sport? If it's purely for sport, from the very bottom of my heart, fuck you. Do you have a fairly fast or slow internet connection? I'd say it's decently fast. Have you ever been someplace tropical? Yeah, Florida. My grandma lived there. Are you sensitive to caffeine? No. It does like... nothing to me. How do you usually get around? My mom's car. Have you ever been accused of being too clingy? No actually, but I know I kinda am. What do you think about Kim Kardashian? I don't have an opinion of her. Can you speak any French? No. Favorite yogurt flavor? The only yogurt I've been liking lately is cookies and cream to add a different texture, because otherwise, I don't like its natural texture very much??? Idk man, my taste buds are wild. How much money do you have in your wallet right now? Just like $5. What bottled water brand do you like? Essentia. Your favorite way to eat chocolate? As chocolate bars, probably. How often do you listen to country music? Like, never. Linkin Park or Avenged Sevenfold? Linkin Park. Last surgery you had? Pilonidal cyst removal. Have you ever played guitar? I briefly took classes for it in high school, yes. Best I got to was playing some of the intro to "Crazy Train." I enjoyed it, but not enough to be consistent and really learn. Is there someone in your life whose career/life choices you find immoral/unethical? Have you ever told that person your views? Do you find it difficult to support them (emotionally or otherwise) because of their choices? I don't think so? What trait do you feel you lack that you wish you possessed? Independence and confidence would be nice... Have you ever considered writing your memoirs? No. Do you find it difficult to stay invested in online relationships? God no. I love my online friends. Half of 'em more than "irl" ones. Are you the type of person who pays close attention to the release dates of movies, music, etc., and will, for example, go see a movie or buy an album on the date it is released? If so, when is the last time you did so? I have to be VERY invested in it to care THAT much. It happened most recently when Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty premiered. Do you have any stickers on your laptop? No. Would you rather have a job for which you had to go in early in the morning or one you had to stay late into the evening at? Early in the morning. I'm in a better mood in the morning. Do you use any apps to track your health or medications? I have a calorie-counting app, as well as one to track my period. Whose opinions/recommendations do you value most? My mom's, best friend's, and psychiatrist's. If you could’ve been at any historical event, which would you have liked to witness firsthand? I don't really know. Maybe the very first Pride event? Is there something that you really want to do but are afraid of doing? If so, why are you afraid of doing it? Ride a rollercoaster, for one. I know I never will, though. I'm too afraid of throwing up, but even more realistically, I fear passing out before of the twisting and turning and just standing up makes me very dizzy. My blood pressure is STUPID low. What is something society “expects” you to do that you don’t want to do and/or don’t plan on doing? Have kids. That's a big 'ole fat no from me. Have Jehovah's Witnesses ever come to your door? Twice at least. Are you well-known by people in your area? No. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? No, thank Christ. It sounds terrifying. What's your favourite type of bird? Barn owls. Melanistic ones, to be exact. Stunning. What tv show(s) have you been watching currently? I'm only keeping up with Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Have you ever dated a smoker? For less than a day. Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? Yes. Have you ever been a member in a band? No. Besides the school band. Can you cry on command? If so, have you ever used it to your advantage? No. Do you have separate emails for personal and business? No. Have you ever missed a flight? Yes. Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? Multiple times. Have you ever taken a ride in a convertible? I think once with my brother. Why did you last need to use a band-aid? I'unno. What fruit do you eat most often? Apples. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? My ma. Has someone ever tried to start an argument with you over Facebook? What happened? A few times. I don't feel like thinking over this. Have you ever had an unusual type of milk (eg. oat, rice, almond)? I've tried almond milk, and I hated it. If you could experience life as a Disney princess for a week, which princess would you pick and why? uhhhhhh idk When you’re at home, do you spend most of your time in your room? I'm essentially always in my room. If you like to sleep in late, have your parents ever told you off for doing so? No. Do you find piercings attractive? Yep. Do you like potato chips? Loooove 'em. What’s the most stalker-like/creepy thing you’ve ever done? If you don’t think you’ve done anything like that, what’s the most stalker-like thing someone’s done to you? Nothing beyond checking Jason's Facebook sometimes after the breakup, I think. Even that though I wouldn't recommend doing. You're just going to get yourself hurt. Stay away from exes' profiles. Do you think it’s a double standard that a woman can hit a man and expect to get away with it, but if a man hits a woman it’s assault? Yep. I don't give a fuck what's in your pants, you don't hit anybody unless you're fighting to defend yourself. What’s your favorite old Disney movie and favorite new Disney movie? I mean... define "old." I'll go with The Lion King for old, and for new, uh... Finding Dory, probs. Name something “trendy” or popular that you dislike. I don't really know what IS trendy right now... Is Snapchat still "in?" Because I've never gotten that. “Dirty talk” in the bedroom…love it, like it, don’t care, dislike it, or hate it? I think I'm kinda neutral about it? Like I mean it also depends on exactly what is said. I prefer more loving talk, though. What is/are your favorite type(s) of ethnic food, and what’s your favorite food within that type? I'm a basic fatass that likes American cuisine most, aha... Like give me a cheeseburger and I'm happy lmao. How would you describe your relationship with your hair over the years? I love it more now at a short length than I ever did long. When it was long and I was in my deepest depression, I was awful about brushing it. It would get so knotted. Like looking back, it nearly makes me shiver. I HIGHLY recommend cutting your hair for anyone who struggles with selfcare. How do you feel about your SO daily/regularly checking up on a couple of his exes on social media? I'm single, but hypothetically, if you're checking an ex's page nearly every day, I would not be okay with that. I'm totally fine with exes remaining friends and just cordially talking now and again, but that's it. It's a respect thing. Do you prefer your guy to wear cologne or not? I personally like cologne if it's not overwhelming. I really don't care if you wear it or not, though. Ladies, how important is it to you that your SO wears/would wear a wedding ring? This survey is so heteronormative. But anyway, unless there was an issue like it not fitting, I'd want my spouse to wear their ring. What was the turning point that led you to decide for or against having children? There are a lot of reasons I don't want kids. I'm too selfish with my "me" time, I stress out too easily, I don't want to dedicate my life to keeping another person alive and fed and happy, I have bad genes... I could go on and on. I just wouldn't be a good, "present" enough mom. I am much more interested in ensuring *I* am okay. Is having your “dream” wedding really that important to have? Not at all. I mean I want a smooth and memorable wedding, but I'm not obsessed with it being perfect. Do you consider it cheating if your SO goes to a strip club and then doesn’t tell you? That's certainly not cheating, but I wouldn't like it. Being secretive about anything in a relationship is unhealthy, imo. I'd be hurt and also very insecure because I wouldn't feel like "enough." How old is too old for trick-or-treating? Honestly? I don't think you ever are. Like come on, does it REALLY matter? Let people have fun. I don't do it because of societal standards, but I would if I didn't care about being judged. Do you sleep with your arms over or under the covers? It depends on the temperature, but I normally wake up with them under. Do you own any t-shirts of your favorite band? I have an Ozzy one stored somewhere, but it doesn't fit me now. There was another I really liked too, but that one is WAY too small now. Fries or onion rings? Fries. I'm not a fan of onion rings. True/False: you’ve had an odd dream this week. Story of my life. I had one last night where I kept dying in different ways, and I actually felt the pain, like drowning in magma. Do you find tattoo sleeves attractive? YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Do you like carving pumpkins? Yeah. What’s an animal you want to have as a pet but can’t? My mom has absolutely forbidden me to get a tarantula (uh, many tarantulas in my case) until I move out, lol. That doesn't stop me from checking Craigslist like every day. ;_; Have your parents ever caught you drinking? "Caught," no. Any time I've drunk, I've had permission or was a legal adult by then. How would you react if your celebrity crush came to your door? First be humiliated at my appearance and then absolutely pass out lmao. Has your mom/dad ever walked in on you kissing or anything more with someone? No, thank fuck. The person you have a crush on is drunk and goes to kiss you, you know they don’t realize what they’re doing, but do you kiss anyways? If I know it's something they wouldn't do sober, absolutely not. What would you prefer to get from a guy/girl: flowers, a hand written poem, a picture he drew of you or a nice night out? Any would be lovely, but the poem would appeal most to me because of the amount of thought that goes into poetry. Do you any shirts with any kind of images of food on them? What? I don't think so, no. Which holiday is the most fun to decorate for? Halloween. What was the first website you had an email account on? Yahoo. Have you ever written a fanfic? No. Tattoos or piercings? Both are grand, but tats win. What’s the last gross movie/show/video you saw? I saw this picture of a snake split open that had eaten another snake. Would you rather live in a huuuge house or a little cozy one? Lil cozy one! I don't want more space than is needed for cleaning reasons, as well as price. Do you have a tutor for anything? No. Who’s the best kisser you know? Jason was. Has anyone ever threatened you with a knife? No. I'd like it to stay that way. (If you’re a girl) Has anyone ever called you "shortie" instead of girl? Ew, no. Do you have a deep voice? For a woman, yes. Do you play games with boys/girls, like 'hard to get’? Hi, I'm an adult. Is there a Sonic where you live? YES. It's my fave fast-food place. What do you like on your pizza? I have three go-tos depending on my mood: Pepperoni, jalapenos, or meat lovers.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''leave a scar'' by marilyn manson

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onestowatch · 3 years ago

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Lowertown Is Growing Up [First Look + Q&A]

Photo: Shamshawan Scott

Olivia Osby and Avsha Weinberg always knew they wanted to make music. The difficult part came when the inevitable questions of how and with who would arise. At least that was the case until a chance encounter in a high school math class in suburban Atlanta, which would eventually serve as the birthplace for Lowertown. Now, a few odd years later Olivia and Avsha find themselves signed to Dirty Hit, home to the likes of The 1975 and beabadoobee, and aiming to make their most ambitious project to date.

“The Gaping Mouth,” a sprawling confessional that blends soft-spoken lyricism bordering on avant-garde poetry and experimental indie rock instrumentation, arrives as the first taste of that ambition. The titular single from their forthcoming EP, set to release September 16, feels like a daring call to arms, a single firework shot in the dark, impossible to ignore and indistinguishable. Most notably of all, it feels like a noted maturation for the duo, a step forward into new, uncharted territory.

On the new single, Osby ponders on the object of her affection, or rather attention, repeatedly uttering the lines “You are the iris in my eye” until they no longer seem to be coming from her, taking on the weight of a mantra spoken outside herself. It’s only one such instance of the duo’s newfound stream-of-conscious lyrical approach, which sees them ruminating on the fallacy of growing up and the associated fantasies that come with it. All of this is complemented by the duo’s fearless instrumentation and production flourishes, which call to mind everything from experimental ‘90s indie rock to the sonic detours that permeated Sufjan Steven’s early works.

We had the chance to speak to Lowertown via e-mail about the difficulties of shifting from “teenagerdom” to adulthood, the advantages of having a french fry fork and their bold new musical direction.

You two originally met in a high school math class. How did the discussion of music first get brought up and how did it lead to forming Lowertown?

Avsha: Olivia was a new student at the school, and I was shy, so we had sat next to each other for some time before we really had any conversation. After some months, I would look at the music Olivia would listen to over her shoulder and make small excited comments or jokes. That’s how our friendship began, through comments about Olivia’s love of emo music or my insufferable judgment on some new music I had heard. It took a year for us to start thinking about doing music together. The eventual forming of Lowertown happened on a beach in Ottawa, where I was again making a judgment on some new song I had found and decided to show Olivia some of my demos. That was where we decided to work together. Those demos and others eventually formed our first record Friends

Were there ever any thoughts about pursuing music before that fateful meeting?

Olivia: I’d always hoped to be able to do music professionally, but it had always seemed like it was so far away from being possible. I always knew that even if my solo music did not work out as a career, I wanted to work in the music field. Whether that was becoming a manager for other musicians or becoming a booking agent, I knew for a long time I wanted to be surrounded by music no matter what I ended up doing.

A: I had spent almost my entire life hoping to be a musician. I started playing classical piano at age four, and up until two years ago, was planning on going to a conservatory and becoming a concert pianist. As my taste expanded, I taught myself guitar, drums, bass, and production, all with the hopes of continuing professionally. Growing up, I was exposed to many different artists and genres, and I always wanted to give people what the music that I grew up with gave to me. The demos that I had recorded in middle school were the ones I showed Olivia and the ones that led to us knowing that we had to start a band.

What was it like signing to Dirty Hit?

A: The process of signing was definitely a difficult one as we had begun talking with the label only a few months before COVID, and as we were narrowing down on the decision to sign, it became incredibly difficult to see a scenario where we would be able to meet anybody on the label. We ended up having many, many FaceTime and Zoom conversations, wherein we were able to talk in-depth with the team and get a good sense of the label. These conversations were really great, and it was a great signifier of the relationship to come as we have had a really great relationship with the label. Although the signing process was tumultuous, we were able to grasp that the relationship between Dirty Hit and their artists was a familial one, and that made us incredibly excited to work together.

If you could have one thing in the world at this very moment, what would it be?

O: A good night’s sleep. I have terrible insomnia and can’t remember the last time I had one.

A: A french fry fork. I’m pretty exhausted with how messy eating french fries is.

Has the past year affected how your approach music at all?

A: In the past, I knew that the more I worked, the better I became, but this year has shown me that the times that you choose to completely leave some things alone are just as important as the times that you focus all your energy on them. I was completely drained of inspiration and motivation until I was able to sit and do absolutely nothing. The lack of music helped me realize that there was a lot about myself that I wasn’t thinking about. I was able to learn more about myself and have new sources of inspiration and thought.

O: For sure. This year has given me an excessive amount of time to get better at playing music in general since I’ve been on my own so much. It has also given me too much time to sit and think by myself, which can be beneficial for music but also pretty detrimental at the same time. I’ve ended up feeling like my old sound and writing process was really stale, since I had been writing songs the same way for years. I’ve ended up experimenting a lot with new sounds and approaches to songwriting, which has been extremely refreshing and I feel like it’s brought out some of my best work. I used to put way less emphasis on instrumentation, but now that I’ve progressed a lot musically, I’ve written a lot of instrumentation that I’m very proud of and that has ended up developing into Lowertown work. I also learned a lot about production over this past year which has been extremely inspiring and helpful for my solo work.

How did you approach the songwriting on “The Gaping Mouth?” The lyricism and experimental instrumentation are honestly breathtaking.

A: When composing the instrumentals, I wanted to write a song that was very expressive and unique but that worked entirely on feeling rather than a traditional verse and chorus song. I wanted to write the piece with points that I knew the guitars would push Olivia’s voice to the forefront and points that raised the energy around Olivia’s words. Olivia’s lyrics are so personal, and she always has so much to say, so I wanted the whole song to ebb and flow together with the identical, and occasionally reciprocal, emotion and intimacy.

O: Avsha sent me this beautiful guitar piece one day and it immediately connected with me, and I stayed up all night working on it. I recorded a demo take of the vocals, just singing/talking over the song where it felt right and natural. That first take I took at home at four in the morning actually ended up being used in the final song because it felt so emotive and raw. The first vocal take had an unmatched authenticity that we couldn’t capture again in the studio no matter how many takes we tried. Our producer Catherine ended up falling in love with it as well and did not want to try to replicate something that was already amazing as it was.

There’s a real sense of maturation present not just in the delivery of the single but in the lyrics, “Being stupid and being 15 / Being older and think I know who I am and what I want… / The way I stay the same and I never change.” Is growing up or rather the idea of growing up a central theme to the music you’re currently working on?

O: I had just graduated high school when we were writing this new project, and I was feeling extremely anxious about the trajectory of my life. I kept thinking about if I was doing all that I should be doing at this age and how much had I really changed since the beginning of high school. I felt like a lot of mannerisms and detrimental ways of thinking that had plagued me when I was 14-15 were still incredibly present in my life, and it felt pathetic to think that I had not made much progress on some of my biggest shortcomings since I had first become a teenager. I feel like at 18/19, you’re not quite an adult, but you’re no longer just a teenager. You begin to shoulder real responsibility and have a lot of agency over your life. It’s quite terrifying being the one who has the power to make important personal decisions. If you screw up, it’s on you and no one else. The transition from high school where you have assignments to turn in every day and tests and a crazy amount of structure (you wake up and go to bed the same time every weekday) to making music and creating with a self-made schedule can be extremely jarring. I’m still grappling with that transition, as my workflow can sometimes trail into six in the morning which sometimes becomes a problem.

“The Gaping Mouth” is the eponymous single from your forthcoming EP. What can people expect from your new EP?

O: It’s gonna be leveled up from anything we’ve dropped before! This is our first project recorded in a studio setting as well as working in-person with a producer. We’ve matured since our last project as musicians and we’ve simply grown more into adults. A lot of this was written when we were 18 and when we’d just turned 19, and a lot of things happened at that point in our lives to write about. Our producer Catherine really helped push me to my full potential while working together. There are some louder songs mixed with some instrumentally dense and beautiful songs. There’s a good amount of experimentation as well in this project that I’m excited for everyone to hear.

A: We’ve focused so much on our songwriting and composition; I think people will be able to hear how we’ve matured. I think this EP reflects our need to always change our sound and grow it. It’s exciting because I think it’s really fresh and still has our musical roots sewn into the core.

And what’s one thing you hope people take away from this next stage of your music?

A: I hope people are able to see the world and the story that we want to create with our music. I hope people can see that our sound will always be maturing and that our music can be surprising and exciting.

O: I feel like our fan base has grown alongside us. Lowertown has been a project since we were 16 and it feels like it has already come so far, which is so amazing and I’m really thankful for everything that’s happened thus far. I hope our music can continue to authentically capture each stage of life Avsha and I live through while making music together. This record was written fresh after graduating high school, so I hope those who are grappling with the jarring transition from teenagerdom to adulthood can find some solace in the feelings expressed in this record.

What is your go-to fast food order?

O: We’re both pescatarian so sometimes finding easy fast food can be annoying. I’m a big burrito person so I’ll always get a bean burrito with a ton of veggies.

A: A universal choice for me in any fast food place would be an extra large order of fries, or however many is the most they offer, and a large Diet Coke. There were points during this year where every day of the week was punctuated with an absurd amount of McDonald’s fries and hot sauce.

Who are your Ones To Watch?

O: Pretty Sick , Horse Jumper of Love, N0v3l

A: Uboa, OOIOO, Donzii

#lowertown #interview #the gaping mouth #indie #indie rock

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alexiessan · 5 years ago

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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

#maribat #daminette #maridami #damian x marinette #ml x dc #miraculous x dc

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catboymingi · 4 years ago

Text

the dragon’s appearance - veninder chap. 4

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: somewhat crack, a little angst, fluff (FLUFF in caps); eventual best friends to lovers

word count: 7.1k

warnings: slight language

a/n: i’m back on my bullshit and also making y/n’s background way more specific than it has to be but it's about the ~storybuilding~. also i am running out of lyrics to summarise the chapters with :(( recycling?

hun er gal, hun er syg, den pige - that girl’s crazy, she’s sick

mingi didn’t even need to ask who this was, the way she spoke up telling him all he needed to know. and if there had been any doubt, feeling you tense up next to him immediately after hearing her voice was confirmation that it was one of the girls that had dared to call themselves your friends despite how they treated you. he was, in all honesty, fuming at her audacity, but this wasn’t about him, it was about you and resolving the situation as quickly and easily as possible. so instead of giving in to his emotions he replied, voice raised just enough to guarantee the professor would hear him: “oh i’m so sorry, i didn’t know there was fixed seating! i just don’t know anyone but y/n, so i thought it’d be okay, sorry again!”

now it was the girl’s turn to fume, and even though you still refused to look up from your papers you could imagine how the steam was shooting out of her ears when the professor told him that it was okay, that seating was free and that he could stay right where he was. she left, sending him a look that could kill, but he didn’t care. this wasn’t his issue - he’d be able to deal with whatever she’d have planned for him. he was just worried about you, because even though she’d left to sit at the other end of the class by now you were still tense, staring at your desk as if you weren’t even really there. the redhead placed a hand on your knee, squeezing gently to comfort you and let you know he was there, that you’d be okay as long as he was there, but before he could say some reassuring words the professor started speaking, and he knew he had to be on his best behaviour because he wasn’t actually enrolled in this class. so he just squeezed again before listening intently to whatever was going on right now. he didn’t actually understand much, but when he saw that you still seemed so taken aback that you didn’t even seem to have realised that class already started he began writing down every single word the professor said, sometimes having to guess just what exactly the word was when it was some scientific term, but trying his best.

it took you a little while to snap out of the state of shock your ex-friend had caused you, and when you did you realised you had no idea what was even going on. your eyes turned to mingi, who was taking notes as if his life depended on it, and who, when he noticed you’d returned to the here and now, moved his arm slightly so you could see what he’d written down and hopefully catch up enough with the topic to participate from now on. your eyes widened when you realised he’d taken your notes for you and was still doing so right now until he could be sure you’d actually be able to decently concentrate, and now it was you who squeezed his knee, an act of thankfulness, before you shuffled a little closer to get at least a rough overview of the topic of this class.

his notes were taken meticulously; you were certain he’d written down every single word the professor said simply because he couldn’t tell whether or not something was important or not. and these notes managed to get you back on track after maybe a minute or two of reading through them and listening to what was going on right now, and another minute later you were able to be your usual, question-filled self. mingi still didn’t exactly understand much of what you were discussing, but he felt like you had a much more straightforward way to talk about concepts, which didn’t make your points any less valid, though. you weren’t dumbing down anything, you just left out the unnecessarily elitist terms that he knew were so common in academia, so even he felt like he got a rough grasp of what was going on. it didn’t take much to see that you were a teacher’s favourite, and rightfully so - you brought up a lot of concerns, different points of view on what had just been talked about, and even to him, someone that had no idea about the topic, it was clear that you had a very diverse way of looking at the problem or topic and actually thought a lot about what you learned rather than just learning it by heart to pass the course. you seemed excited, interested, fully immersed in the topic, and it was through these discussions that he found out that you spoke at least three languages well enough to offer a different perspective on sociolinguistics based on their cultures and how the cultural norms found realisation in the respective language. he wasn’t sure if this was the average for this course, though, and he was the only odd one out, or if you were actually extraordinarily skilled in the language department. though it didn’t matter much to him, because either way he felt like you were a genius and he was a mere peasant watching two experts talk. not that he minded - this wasn’t his major, so of course he wouldn’t be able to engage in the same kinds of discussions as students who’d studied this for roughly a year already. he was just very impressed.

before you knew it (and before he knew it, which was maybe more surprising) class was over, and the redhead gave you the notes he’d taken for you earlier since he wouldn’t need them anyway.

“thank you so much for that”, you told him, smiling shyly because you were still kind of embarrassed that he’d had to take notes for you.

“i just hope they help” was all he replied, because it wasn’t a big deal to him at all. when you packed your things he noticed that the girl from earlier was staring at you, and to prevent you from looking around to see if she was he put his arm around you, guiding you out of the classroom like that while distracting you by asking just how many languages you even spoke.

“depends on how you see it?” not the reply he’d expected - you could speak a language but not speak it by matter of definition? it was probably a language major thing.

“give me the biggest number you can with a definition that makes you happy”, he told you, because he wanted to be impressed. not that three languages wasn’t already impressive, but you’d made it sound like there was more, and he was curious to find out more about that.

“if we count just being conversational, and we also count classical languages… like, eight? though my parents are immigrants so that doesn’t really count, because two of those eight i didn’t really have to learn, we speak them at home. three, actually, now that i think about it. i was the only kid in first grade that barely even spoke korean.” you laughed at the memory, but mingi looked at you wide-eyed.

“which ones do you speak?”

“finnish and swedish from home - my father is finnish, we moved here because he got a job at the embassy. and my mother is finnish as well, but with swedish as her first language, and she made it a hobby to annoy my father by speaking swedish with me when she was plotting something. then english, korean, i took japanese in high school but i think everyone did? some classical chinese because there was no way i’d be able to figure out hanja without that, latin from my mother because she thought it was important for whatever reason, and german just for fun. how about you?” and even though he was a little embarrassed about his in comparison depressingly low amount of languages spoken he told you, because you seemed excited to know, because he could tell languages were a big passion of yours.

“korean, obviously, and english, and i took some chinese in high school but wasn’t the best, so i’m pretty sure i forgot most of it.”

“is there any you’d really like to learn?”

he furrowed his brows at that question. was there? it wasn’t something he’d thought about, and now he was desperately searching his brain for any language he’d ever been interested in even when it wasn’t mandatory. you noticed his expression, though, and chuckled a little.

“it’s fine if there isn’t, you don’t have to make one up.”

“sorry. how about you?”

“there’s too many”, you laughed, “i’d learn all of them if i could, and i’m trying my best to actually at least start with that. but if i have to pick just one… maybe russian? or arabic? i’ve been interested in french, too. and spanish. this is too hard!” you were whining, unable to pick just one, and mingi thought it was adorable. he was grinning like some kind of idiot because he’d managed to distract you, to seemingly entirely remove the fear from your mind at least for now. you were either smiling or pouting, your eyes wide and excited, and he felt like he’d gotten to know you a lot better just through this conversation already.

when you arrived at the table the other boys were already sitting at for lunch you were still talking about languages, rambling on about your childhood and how weird it was to realise that on top of the three languages you were already frequently speaking with your parents there was a whole other language that everyone else spoke and that, while you could understand it, you had no idea how to speak. he was just listening, sometimes humming in acknowledgment, sometimes commenting or asking about a story, but mainly happy to hear about your experiences, and you were so immersed in the conversation that you didn’t want to stop, because he actually seemed to care about what you were saying.

“hey!” was the only acknowledgment anyone that wasn’t mingi got before you resumed your story.

“when they taught us about hanja, i thought i was going to die. hangeul was already so hard to write because everything is so small and then the new characters were even smaller!” the boy nodded in either acknowledgment or agreement, you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter all too much to you, anyway.

“how is hangeul small?”, jongho asked; your comment had apparently piqued his interest.

“you put so many sounds into where a single letter goes in latin script!” you sounded so exasperated, but the others didn’t have the context of you not having grown up with korean as your first language yet, so they didn’t understand where the problem was. to them, hangeul was the regular character size and it seemed like it didn’t even occur to them that it might have caused problems for you.

“she speaks eight languages!”, the giant next to you offered as an explanation, and while it didn’t exactly clear up your distress about the korean script it did make it a little more understandable, considering how most languages (that they knew of) did offer a little more space for their sounds or letters.

“my mother read to me in swedish, and my parents taught me how to read and write swedish and finnish before i ever even realised that there’s more than one alphabet”, you clarified further, and now it seemed like a lightbulb had been lit above the boys’ heads.

“you’re not korean?”

“technically i am? i have dual citizenship. but my parents aren’t born here, if that’s what you meant.” the faces around you all bore the same expression of surprise at the information they just got, six ‘o’ shaped mouths and six pairs of wide eyes looking at you.

“say something funny!”

“jokin hassu. or något roligt, in swedish.” their eyes got even wider and san asked you what you’d just said.

“something funny?”

“yeah, but what does it mean?” it seemed like he was impatient, not realising that ‘something funny’ was in fact the translation of what you’d said.

“it means ‘something funny’. that’s the translation”, you grinned. “i didn’t know what else to say, so i just translated it.”

now oohs and aahs could be heard from around you, and they soon gave you sentence after sentence to translate, watching you as if you were an interactive tv programme.

seonghwa put an end to the fun when he reminded them that you hadn’t even started eating yet, and everyone started apologising immediately, but you just waved it off. it was nice to get to speak the languages you grew up with again, because you certainly didn’t do so with your parents, with whom you barely had any contact anymore at all. but now you should probably eat, if the growl in your stomach was a sign to go by - you could always do this again later.

“how was class?”, hongjoong asked with a slight hint of worry in his voice while you were eating, but he was surprised when you smiled at him without even the slightest hint of any negative emotion.

“it was good! though mingi really saved my butt.” you sounded a little embarrassed, and reasonably so - everyone was once more looking at you wide-eyed.

“you went to class with her?” it seemed like it was impossible for wooyoung to control his volume when he was excited or surprised, so he was near yelling the question at mingi, who by now seemed equally embarrassed as you.

“yeah. it was kinda fun, actually.” now the number of surprised eyes staring at him increased by another pair, because you hadn’t expected him to actually like your class when he didn’t even understand the topic.

“she’s a teachers’ favourite”, he then informed the others teasingly, and you playfully hit his arm.

“i’m not!” you genuinely didn’t think you were. you just asked questions when you wanted an elaboration, and participated in discussions when the professor started them. but you weren’t trying to make the teacher like you by acting a certain way; you were just genuinely interested in the topic, and it was hard for you to shut up when you got so invested in something.

“she is”, the redhead said in an exaggeratedly conspiratorial way, “and she’s a genius, too.”

now you yelped out his name - you didn’t like it when people praised you like this, because you didn’t feel like you deserved it and because it made you a little uncomfortable, made you feel like you were now expected to live up to the impression others had of you even when you couldn’t. but those feelings quickly subsided at his next words, being replaced with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“do you think you could teach me the basics so i could take that class as extra credits?”

“you’re joking.” you absolutely would not believe that he meant it, no way. he had no reason to mean it. sitting in a class where he didn’t have any idea about what’s going on while you all but ignored him in order to talk with the professor couldn’t possibly have been nice enough for him to want to do that weekly.

“it’s your choice, obviously, but i think it’d be fun.” a smile accompanied his words, a smile that wiped out any doubt you’d had.

“i can try? no promises that i’m a good teacher, though.” and while you appreciated the bright grin you got in response the boy appreciated his friends’ reactions a lot less.

he felt his phone buzz and saw it was a message in their private group chat, from yunho.

[saint bernard]: someones WHIPPED

and everyone was quick to agree, which awakened the carnal urge to commit a crime in mingi, a crime that would reduce the amount of people in ‘hyung hate club’ to him and you only. he stopped himself before any blood was flowing, though, both because crimes are illegal and because he didn’t want you to witness that. but no promises could be made for when they were home alone, no one there to witness and frame him.

“put your phones away, it’s rude”, he ordered in a desperate attempt to get them to stop grinning at each other the way they were now before you’d notice anything, and because his attempt was a success he considered maybe leaving them alive. maybe.

the rest of lunch break was spent joking around and teasing each other, and ended with mingi asking you to text him the room where you’d have your last class so he could pick you up. and even though you were still anxious about being in class by yourself, with the people that obviously wanted to ruin your life, the fact that your first class had gone so well reassured you a little, making you feel like maybe it’d be okay for the rest of the day as well.

and it was, surprisingly. you were shot angry glares and had insults whispered at you in passing, but nothing bigger than that happened, maybe owed to mingi’s obvious protective attitude earlier. while they knew they’d easily be able to take on you, the giant was a whole other question. he hadn’t seemed intimidated at all, calm and collected, so they couldn’t even turn his reaction around on him. and the new situation required a new approach, which meant that they’d have to cut you some slack until that new approach had been developed. you knew this, too, knew that the current somewhat peaceful situation was a mere side effect of them having to adjust to the change in circumstances, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted. you were very aware of the fact that this could all too soon be over again.

still, you managed to enjoy the rest of your classes as well, and when you left the room after the last one had ended and saw a certain redhead waiting for you, as he’d promised, you smiled at him, and first when you saw his shoulders drop a little did you notice that he’d been nervous as well. but at least for now there was no need to, you were okay and nothing had happened. you still wanted to get away from the girls as soon as possible, though, so as soon as you’d said hi to him you took off, him following you quietly until you’d left the building.

“you’re okay?” it had seemed like you were when you came out of class, but your quick exit had sparked some worry in him again.

“a little anxious”, you let him know, “but nothing happened. it’s more being scared that something will happen.”

he nodded in understanding, wrapping his arm around you without thinking much about it and once more somewhat embarrassed when he noticed what he’d just done, but you just moved a step closer to him so it’d be more comfortable for him. then, you sighed, but he decided to ignore it, not sure if you wanted to talk about whatever had caused that sigh. when you sighed a second and a third time, however, each time louder than the last, he decided to ask.

“what’s up?” the way it sounded like the worry had sneaked its way back into his voice had you feeling a little guilty, seeing how there wasn’t actually anything up. you just wanted to tease him.

“you’re just so unfairly tall, i feel like i’m your arm rest.”

since this wasn’t at all the reply he’d expected it took him a moment to fully realise what you’d said, but when he did he started laughing before walking on with his knees somewhat bent, reducing not only his height but also his speed. now you were laughing as well, enjoying his awkward crouching walk more than you maybe should.

“i really hope you appreciate this”, he interrupted your laughter, “because this does kind of hurt my thighs.” you didn’t stop laughing at this, but you crouched down a little as well now, readjusting his arm on your shoulders before pulling him up with you when you stood up straight again.

“maybe i’ll just have to start wearing platforms again instead”, you thought out loud, your laughing faded into a grin now. then, changing the topic entirely, you asked: "do you actually want to join my class? you'd have to catch up with a lot."

“if you’re willing to waste all your time helping me try to catch up?”

“if you’re ready for me to never shut up ever?” this wasn’t an exaggeration; you’d annoyed the girls more than once by studying with them and being way more immersed in the topic than them, even though you all shared similar majors and the class was relevant to all of you. so you couldn’t help being scared that he’d get annoyed with you as well, seeing how this class wasn’t even relevant to him, and you tried to test the waters by joking like this. but he grinned at you, saying that worst case he’d just feed you fruit loops to buy him a few seconds of silence.

“no but the more you talk the more i learn, that’s how it works, right?”

“mm, maybe? i haven’t tried teaching anyone yet, so we’ll have to see”, you admitted a little anxiously. you’d be happy if you managed to help him catch up enough to join the class, but you weren’t exactly confident in your teaching abilities.

“wanna start today?” mingi’d noticed that you were almost at the train station now, so if he wanted to spend the evening studying with you he’d have to ask before you got in your trains going opposite directions.

“i can’t offer you any decent dinner, though. i forgot to get groceries this week so the options are limited to toast, fruit loops, and instant ramen. in case that makes you change your mind.” you wanted to tell him now before he got disappointed by how little you had to offer even as a host, and because if you told him now it’d be less embarrassing to reveal your pathetically empty cupboards when you were at your place.

and he could tell that you were a little embarrassed about the apparent lack of food choices, so he tried to cheer you up.

“is it even a study session without instant ramen?” he genuinely meant it, too - studying and instant food kind of belonged together, the instant food being an important part of what made a study session feel like a real study session. it was about the vibes, not the nutrition.

“okay”, you laughed, then added: “next time we can go somewhere else, too, i just obviously don’t have all my materials with me right now.”

“your place is fine”, he was quick to reassure you. if anything, he was worried that you might feel awkward about having him there again. it wasn’t exactly like you were close, though it sometimes felt that way to him and he had to remind himself that you’d only met half a week ago.

you were once more being prevented from paying for your own ticket by mingi, who’d already paid when you just got your wallet out, and you scoffed at him playfully.

“you know i can pay for myself, right?”

“but i’m being a gentleman.” and with that, he considered this discussion done.

severe buzzing from your phone startled you when you were sitting next to the redhead on the train, because you’d forgotten you’d just muted the girl chat for 24 hours rather than fully leaving it, and your 24 hours were up now. it was as active as ever, and though it seemed like the current topic was unrelated to you just the thought of still being in this kind of space with them made you feel sick with anxiety. but you were too scared to leave the chat, so instead you just stared at your screen.

“it’s them again?” of course he noticed. you just nodded, leaning against him in exhaustion with him gently rubbing your arm.

“we have a group chat and i want to leave, but i can’t.” it was absolutely stupid to feel this way, you knew it was, because what was scaring you wasn’t no longer being in the group chat, it was the act of pressing the little ‘leave group’ button with your own finger.

“you can’t leave or you can’t not be in it?” he surprised you with how he actually seemed to understand your struggle, the very important distinction between the conscious act of leaving and the passive state of not being in the chat.

“i can’t leave. this is our stop.”

he didn’t reply when you left the train, but once you’d started walking towards your dorm he asked you: “do you think i could leave for you? would that work?” you told him you didn’t know, because you really didn’t and you also didn’t really want to think about this at all right now. you wanted to be home, in your bed, with instant ramen and focusing on nothing but how to make mingi understand, remember and internalise the basics of sociolinguistics. it was an act of escapism, definitely, but sometimes you just needed to pretend your problems didn’t exist until you were ready to deal with them.

the rest of the walk was spent in silence, though not uncomfortably so. you both seemed to be in your own thoughts, arms brushing against each other every now and then as if to remind each other that you were still there, even when you weren’t talking. it was nice to know that you didn’t have to talk when you were spending time with mingi, that just being near each other was already enough sometimes.

and just this being silent with each other was what managed to in a way comfort you enough for you to be able to fully concentrate on your materials once you’d reached your place, asking him whether he wanted to eat first or study first as you unlocked the door.

“let’s start with studying, and when i feel like my head’s exploding we’ll eat?”

“deal. make yourself comfortable, i’ll hunt for all my notes.” and with that said you proceeded to ignore the giant that had now settled on your bed in favour of groaning and sighing while you tried to gather all the relevant material from the last year, a task made more difficult because he most likely didn’t have any linguistic background, so you also went through your notes from other courses to find those that had the basic linguistic terms explained on them, because there was no use telling him about phoneme variations if he didn’t know what a phoneme was, and you wanted to be sure to give a 100% right definition.

once you’d found everything you needed you sat down next to him, now trying to divide the notes by topic so you’d have a better overview over what you had to teach him and how much it’d be. he whined quietly next to you at the sheer amount of paper you’d spread on the bed - how was he going to learn all of that?

“we’ll start easy”, you laughed out at his desperate expression. “you can pick the topic that seems most interesting to you, and we’ll start with that.”

then you listed the topics available, along with a short summary or explanation of just what was hidden behind a term like chronolect, which he decided to go with because he thought that might be easiest to a total beginner, because he obviously knew how people of different ages talked, right?

not right. he soon found everything to be much more complicated than it sounded, but he was determined to learn, and you really appreciated how hard he was trying. you knew it had to be hard for him, but he didn’t seem to want to even take a break until he understood, and it was actually you who told him it was time to eat.

“i didn’t think it would be so hard when we’ve barely even started yet”, he groaned while you were waiting for the food to be done, and before you could stop yourself a ‘that’s what she said’ escaped your lips, which made mingi look at you in shock before he burst out laughing.

“i didn’t know that’s what you were thinking about while i was trying to learn!”, he said in feigned indignation, and you hit his arm playfully as you pretended to be equally as scandalised by his implication as he was by yours.

“i don’t know if my memory is giving up on me here, but wasn’t it you who asked me to spend the night together? twice?”

you heard him gasp loudly in reply and grinned at his expression.

“i didn’t know you’d use that against me!” there was a mixture of shock and hurt in his voice, though very obviously playful, and you immediately started apologising in an exaggerated manner, pleading him to please forgive you for your careless words. and even though he tried to stay serious the pout on your face and the fact that you looked like the pleading face emoji made that impossible, stern expression turning into a small smile turning into a grin turning into laughing with his mouth wide open and head thrown back in a matter of seconds. and then you were lost, too, joining in and laughing until your stomach hurt and the instant ramen demanded your attention.

when you found him looking through the notes you’d used for studying by himself it surprised you, though in a positive way. you were glad to see that he at least seemed to have caught a genuine interest for the subject now, glad to see that he was eager to learn. still, you asked him to please move the notes away so you could eat without the risk of them getting dirty and, consequently, unusable. he did as requested and you sat down next to him as soon as you’d handed him his plate - past experience had taught you that shuffling to comfortably sit on the bed when you had an open container in both hands was a very bad idea.

the two of you ate in silence and went back to studying right after, and it was first when you heard thundering outside that you realised how much time had passed. it was fully dark now, heavy rain hitting the window and lightning lighting up the sky every now and then. neither of you looked pleased at the weather, though mingi a lot less so, considering he was the one that somehow had to get home. and it really didn’t seem like the rain would stop anytime soon.

“i’m gonna be so soaked when i get home”, he whined out, making you feel sorry for him because he was right, not even a minute outside in this weather would have him drenched to the bones.

“you can stay over if it’s still like this in an hour”, you offered, not thinking much about it, your main thought being less about him staying with you specifically and more about him not having to go out when it would most likely result in him getting sick. you came to regret your offer when he looked at you with a teasing glint in his eyes, though.

“so now you’re asking me to stay the night? when you called me out for having improper thoughts earlier because i’d offered you the same?”

you rolled your eyes in reply, grabbing his wrist and attempting to drag him out of your bed.

“you know what, forget it, if you get pneumonia that’s not my problem.” at your threat the redhead did a 180 on his behaviour, now begging you the way a little child begged for an extension on their bedtime, except he was begging you to not send him out into the cruel, unrelenting, cold harsh wind. and even though you pretended to be considering doing so you knew that if he actually wanted to he could most definitely spend the night. it was just fun to tease him back.

“fine”, you finally gave in, “you can stay. but behave!”

he sighed in relief (as if there’d ever been any doubt about that), promising you he’d be on his best behaviour, and, as if to prove it, went to do the dishes for you. you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop him because he was at least half a head taller than you and without a doubt much stronger, but it was still worth a try. you should have known it’d barely even bother him, though, pulling on his shirt and trying to drag him back towards the bed, to no avail. he walked on as if he couldn’t even tell that you were trying to move him with every ounce of strength you had in your body, but the grin on his face told you that he knew, and that he was enjoying this too much for your liking. you decided to let him get away with it either way, this once, because truth be told you hated doing the dishes, hated the sensory hell it proved itself to be, time and time again.

you watched him ‘be on his best behaviour’, trying to come up with a way to prevent the situation from turning awkward should the weather not magically turn around, but the only thing your brain could come up with was watching a movie; that’d have to do then. he didn’t seem displeased with the suggestion, finishing washing up quickly and once again sprinkling some water onto your face.

“‘best behaviour’ my ass”, you huffed under your breath, but of course mingi heard you, sending you a smile that with a lot of benevolence could be interpreted as apologetic, but if you were feeling unrelenting might also be a teasing one. he was on your bed and patting the space next to him as is this were his place, though, before you had a chance to threaten him with kicking him out again, and, even though you would deny it if anyone were to claim it, the way he looked so comfortable and somewhat domestic made you a little soft. not very, but just enough to let his teasing slip as you settled next to him.

that position was soon neglected in favour of you sitting between his legs as you found that that was more comfortable for watching a movie. one of you had been complaining no matter where you’d placed the laptop before, because it always gave the one that wasn’t currently complaining a better view. but when you were sitting like this you could just place it right in front of you, and because your friend was so tall he could easily rest his chin on your shoulder without it being uncomfortable at all, and now you both were able to decently see.

you hadn’t decided on a movie yet, though, scrolling the ‘popular right now’ section to get any kind of idea. there was one that seemed interesting enough, kind of dramatic (which was needed because you were not about to watch a romcom with the unfairly attractive redhead pressed against your back like that), and you clicked on it to see the preview since it had sparked your curiosity. as soon as you saw the description you noticed it was a horror movie, though, trying to exit out before anything scary would actually appear on screen.

you succeeded, but your frantic clicking had confused the boy behind you - your netflix was set to finnish, so he didn’t actually understand the caption, but when you told him you’d accidentally chosen a horror movie’s preview rather than a regular dramatic movie he sighed out in relief.

“thank fuck you closed that.”

“not a fan of horror movies either, hm?” you weren’t trying to tease him, and the question sounded like more of an observation. you absolutely hated horror movies, with every fibre of your being, hated the jumpscares and the gore and how you wouldn’t be able to sleep without light for at least a week after. so you found yourself relieved when he told you that he’d have to have his eyes pried open forcefully if someone wanted him to watch one, because at least this way you could be sure he’d never suggest watching one, nor would he make fun of you for being scared.

your thoughts were momentarily guided in a whole other direction though when your partner in being a coward leaned forward, chest pressed even closer to your back and also forcing you to basically fold yourself in the middle underneath his weight as he pointed towards a section title he would in no way be able to pronounce.

“choose from that one.” it was the kids’ movies section, but you had no objections. it was neither a romcom nor a horror movie, the only two genres that were a hard no for you right now. still, you found it hard to do as asked because the way he was leaning forward had your chest almost pressed against your legs and greatly limited your arms’ moving range.

“it’d be easier if you weren’t crushing me”, you whined out, trying to get him to lean back by pressing against him with your back, and with a surprised ‘oh!’ he did lean back, finally giving you room to move again.

“let’s see”, you hummed out, now scrolling the kids’ movies section. you didn’t really know which one to pick, though - kids’ movies weren’t really your usual kind of movie, so it wasn’t like you had a go-to favourite. it seemed like mingi noticed, because he decided to interrupt your aimless scrolling by speaking up, surprising you with his question.

“is there anything you watched as a child? something that’s not korean.”

you didn’t need to think long about this - the moomins immediately shot to your mind, something you’d watched up and down as a child.

“i’m not sure if they’ve ever been dubbed to korean, though”, you informed him, “but i can see?” and without waiting for his reply you abandoned netflix in favour of google, where you hoped that your phonetic interpretation of how moomin would be spelled using hangeul was at least close enough for the search engine to do the rest for you.

you were both glad and somewhat astonished when you did actually get results for your search, clicking on the first video that seemed about as long as you remembered the movie to be and leaning back against the taller one’s chest as you felt nostalgia wash over you. and it was the actual movie, though not dubbed - someone had added korean subtitles, and the finnish speech only made your nostalgia stronger. you were comfortable, head leaning against mingi and his arms around your waist because that was the least awkward place for them to be, underneath your blanket in the dim light coming from your laptop, warm and cosy and, before you knew it, lulled to sleep by the comfortingly familiar sounds of your childhood.

the red-haired male didn’t even notice that you’d fallen asleep, thinking that you were simply just as immersed in the movie as he was, until he tried to tell you that he needed the bathroom and you didn’t reply. peeking over to your face he saw that your eyes were closed and your mouth slightly ajar, and a fond smile made its way onto his face. still, his bladder wouldn’t let him not wake you up, and he felt incredibly guilty when he had to disturb your slumber.

“sorry, but i got big girl business to do”, he told you quietly, and even though you were slightly annoyed at being woken up you laughed at the memory of how that was the first thing you’d heard from him, that his business was big girl business. you paused the movie and shuffled to let him get up, but before he went to the bathroom he asked: “do you want to go to sleep now or finish the movie?”

your heart said movie but your other heart, the one that regularly had you give in to your body’s wicked desires (such as an entire bag of crisps in a single second) said sleep, and once more that heart won. you mumbled out a sleep and he smiled at you, telling you to get ready while he was in the bathroom, then.

getting into your pyjamas was an act in and of itself, because you absolutely did not want to move at all. you did it, though, forcing yourself into the admittedly much softer fabric before plopping right back onto your bed.

when the boy returned (once more shirtless, and you weren’t sure if that was to your dismay or your delight) he would’ve guessed you hadn’t even moved, had it not been for the fact you were wearing something else than when he’d left you. the laptop was closed now, though, placed in the empty space underneath your bed so stepping on it would be avoided even if someone had to get up during the night in a half-awake state.

you shuffled to make room for him as he made his way towards the bed slowly, room lit only by the street lamps outside now. he laid down next to you, looking at you for a moment before the drowsiness-induced desire for cuddles and warmth won over the embarrassment that would have securely prevented a less tired mingi from saying what he said next.

“can i hug you?”

and because you were at least equally sleepy and in need of a warm embrace you just ‘mhm’ed in confirmation, resulting in both a long arm and an even longer leg wrapped around you immediately after. you turned to your back because it was slightly uncomfortable like this, laying on your side facing him, and he didn’t waste a single second before he placed his head on your shoulder, the arm on that side holding on to him now, too. you felt warm and cosy (and soft at the thought of the giant cuddled up to your much smaller frame like this) and it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep again, once more unnoticed by mingi, who had almost immediately fallen asleep as well.

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“The plasticity of the notion of reading meant that it represented the medium through which middle-class Victorian girls passed many hours, but it did not bring a uniform message. Like their parents and advisers, adolescent girls who were writing about reading were of two minds. On the one hand, as William Thayer put it, reading could be a way of demonstrating rectitude and diligence; on the other, it could be a route to indolence and the shirking of responsibilities.

Mary Thomas, away at school in Georgia in 1873, suggested these dual meanings of reading as she imagined a newly virtuous domesticity for herself upon returning home: ‘‘I will sew and read all the time, I am not going out any where, but intend to stay at home and work all the time; no matter how interesting a book may be, I will put it down and do whatever I am asked to do, they shall no longer accuse me of being lazy and good for nothing, I will work all day.’’ In its contrast to engaging in a social whirl of visiting and flirtation, reading, like sewing, represented a becoming and modest domesticity. However, reading might also subvert good intentions, and tempt a girl to inattention to, or even disobedience of, the demands of others or of household work. In any case, reading had a meaning for the self, as well as for the family and the culture.

Reading good books was of course a way of demonstrating virtue. Measured reading of improving texts was part of the regimen of many Victorian girls. As advisers suggested, the reading of history was especially praiseworthy. When Nellie Browne returned home from school in 1859, her mother noted in her diary with pride, ‘‘Nellie begins to read daily Eliot’s History of the United States,’’ a parentally encouraged discipline which would both improve and occupy Nellie now that her school days were over.

Jessie Wendover, the daughter of a prosperous Newark grocer and another regular diarist, recorded a steady diet of history in her journal, justifying her summer vacation in 1888 with the reading of a two-volume History of the Queens of England, as well as doing a little Latin and some arithmetic. The popular British domestic novelist Charlotte Yonge wrote her History of Germany specifically for readers like Jessie Wendover, who began it the following year. What American girl readers took from the history they read is hard to ascertain, because unlike their rapt reports on novels, they recorded their history as achievement rather than illumination.

One can certainly appreciate the irony, though, in encouraging girls to read accounts of national travails, the stories of armies, wars, and dynastic succession, which were ennobled partly by their distance from girls’ real lives. One of the advantages of history seemed to be that girls could be expected to have no worrisome practical interest in it—in marked contrast to the reading of romances or novels.

Victorian girls could build character through a variety of other literary projects, prime among them the memorizing of poetry. Over the course of the late nineteenth century, the publishing industry issued a number of collections of snippets of poetry known as ‘‘memory gems,’’ designed for memorization by schoolchildren. The verse in these anthologies was to serve as ‘‘seed-thoughts’’ for earnest young Victorians aspiring to know the best, and these were the likely sources for many of the couplets which appear in girls’ diaries and scrapbooks.

Margaret Tileston’s daily diary, recorded religiously for her entire life, both fed and celebrated a variety of literary disciplines, including most prominently reading and memorizing poetry. She too read histories during the summer, along with keeping up with her other studies, noting one July day following her graduation from Salem High School that she had ‘‘read my usual portions of Macaulay [a 40-page allotment] and French, but only a few pages of Spencer.’’ Margaret Tileston also read advice literature, such as Mary Livermore’s What Shall We Do with Our Daughters? and two books by Samuel Smiles, Self-Help and Duty. (The latter she described as looking ‘‘quite interesting and full of anecdotes.’’) Margaret Tileston’s diaries suggest a life consumed with the rewards of self-culture.

At fifteen, however, she recorded a brush with another literary genre and mode of striving—a seeking not only for mastery of the will but for beauty itself. Poetry first appeared simply as a verse of romantic poetry copied on the page: ‘‘Why thus longing thus forever sighing, for the far-off, unattained, and dim, while the beautiful, all round thee lying, offers up its low, perpetual hymn.’’ Margaret Tileston was now away at girls’ school, where she had experienced something of an emotional awakening in the intense atmosphere of schoolgirl friendships.

Her turn to poetry seems to reflect the new culture in which she was briefly submerged. That summer, back with her family on vacation on the Massachusetts coast, Tileston again turned to poetry, and to beauty, in an uncharacteristic passage of effusion. ‘‘The moon was perfectly lovely in the sky and its light on the water. We quoted lines of poetry, and it was beautiful.’’ By January of the next year, however, poetry had been incorporated into her disciplines of order and accomplishment. After returning from boarding school, she had moved with her family from the farm where she had spent her formative years to the town of Salem, where she attended the local high school. There she embarked on another campaign of self-improvement, the memorization of poetry, perhaps as a strategy to gain control of alien surroundings.

Two months later she described a new discipline: the daily ritual repetition of all the poems she had learned, of which there were by then 111. On May 25 she reported that her extraordinary ability to memorize poetry was gaining her a reputation. ‘‘Miss Perry asked me if I knew about 250 poems. She said that one of the Goodhue girls had told her I did. I remarked something of the sort to Miss Perkins one day in recess, and somehow it was repeated.’’ By the end of July she noted that she was beginning to have trouble finding new poems to learn because she knew so many already.

Appreciation of the beauty of poetry had dropped out of her journal. Nor did she suggest that the poetry had any meaning to her at all. Yet she very likely gained some of the satisfactions from poetry expressed by Louisa May Alcott, some years before. After disobeying her mother, at the age of eleven, Alcott ‘‘cried, and then I felt better, and said that piece from Mrs. Sigourney, ‘I must not tease my mother.’’’ She went on, ‘‘I get to sleep saying poetry,—I know a great deal.’’ For those feeling guilty, sad, misunderstood, or wronged, repeat- ing lines of elevating poetry had an effect in a secular mode analagous to the saying of ritual Hail Marys. The verses established an alliance with a higher authority and suggested personal participation in a glorious and tragic human struggle.

And in fact, poetry, even more than history, was the prototypical idealist genre. In 1851 the British educational pioneers Maria Grey and Emily Shirreff proposed the reading of poetry rather than fiction, explaining the crucial distancing effect of poetic subjects. ‘‘In a poem, the wildest language of passion, though it may appeal to the feelings, is generally called forth in circumstances remote from the experience of the reader.’’ They suggested that in poetry there was a higher truth than that of superficial realism: ‘‘The grand conceptions of the poet are true in ideal beauty.’’

Writing fifty years later, Harriet Paine too suggested that poetry had generic qualities of elevation. ‘‘After all, in poetry itself what we read is not the important thing. We should read poetry to give us a certain attitude of mind, a habit of thinking of noble things, of keeping our spirit in harmony with beauty and goodness and strength and love.’’ Earlier Paine had commended the memorization of poetry as neces- sary to ‘‘take in the full meaning,’’ suggesting just such a regular regimen of repetition as Tileston had pursued. The spiritual rewards from internalizing poetry were revealed by Paine’s proposal that it take place on the Sabbath: ‘‘Surely we must give a part of every Sunday to such elevating study.’’

Elizabeth Barrett Browning had censured poets for their historical escapism in her 1857 poem Aurora Leigh, arguing Their sole work is to represent the age, Their age, not Charlemagne’s—this live, throbbing age, That brawls, cheats, maddens, calculates, aspires. Yet it was in just its remoteness from ‘‘this live, throbbing age,’’ just in the ‘‘togas and the picturesque’’ disparaged by Browning that poetry was considered so appropriate for girl readers.

…If reading presented an opportunity to discover national allies, to demonstrate private virtue, and to suggest the triumph of the will against ennui or boredom, it increasingly endorsed another way of defining life: the excitement and the exercise of the feelings. Girls who read their daily allowance of Macaulay or the Bible with pride and self-satisfaction upbraided themselves for their difficulties in controlling their insatiable appetites for Victorian novels of all kinds. Reading for leisure or for pleasure invariably meant reading for ‘‘sensation,’’ reading for adventure, excitement, identification, titillation. In the process of this kind of reading, Victorian girls ministered to a complex of emotions.

…Perhaps leisure reading can best be defined by what it was not: study, sleep, or sewing. Girls chastised themselves for imperfectly learning their lessons, and sometimes blamed the distractions of leisure reading. Martha Moore, who had just begun to attend school in occupied New Orleans during the Civil War, confessed that she found the schoolwork hard and had had two crying spells before she ‘‘picked up an interesting story and with my old habit of procrastination, thought I would read that first, and then study.’’

She observed the inevitable consequence ‘‘that my lessons are very imperfectly known.’’ And even Margaret Tileston, whose discipline seldom allowed her to swerve from duty, could be seduced by light reading. At the age of fourteen: ‘‘I scarcely studied in my history at all, because I was interested in ‘Sir Gibbie,’ and wanted to finish reading it.’’ At the age of seventeen: ‘‘I undertook to spend the afternoon and evening on my Ancient History, but my thoughts wandered and I spent some time on papers and magazines.’’ At the age of twenty: ‘‘I did not study a great deal in evening, on account of my interest in my novel, but I read over my History lesson.’’

Girls also resolved to prevent reading from interfering with their domestic chores, usually their needlework. Treating reading as recreation, Virginian Agnes Lee observed, ‘‘I really am so idle I must be more industrious but it is so hard when one is reading or playing to stop to practice or sew.’’ Another Virginian, Lucy Breckinridge, set up a similar opposition, noting that she and her sisters had gathered together in her room ‘‘being industrious. I am getting over my unsocial habit of sitting in my room reading all day.’’ For Lucy Breckinridge private reading not only was not industrious, it was also antisocial.”

- Jane H. Hunter, “Reading as the Development of Taste.” in How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood

#history #victorian #american #jane h. hunter #how young ladies became girls

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ghostgothgeek · 4 years ago

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Blush. Chapter 6

Trick or treat! ;)

FFN || AO3

Warnings: actual sex ed talk and swearing

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She leaned her back against the sink and let out a breath that pushed her bangs out of her face for a moment. Danny had been so close to her. She closed her eyes and could picture his face being so close to hers, his body pressed against her. She sighed contentedly and decided to allow herself a moment of weakness. She imagined what it would be like if they were dating, if they actually were intimate with each other like everyone assumed. She pictured Danny caressing her face and leaving kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. She even tried to imagine Danny wanted her too. He’d have his hands all over her, along the bare part of her torso, no curve left undiscovered. His hands would move to her upper thigh, squeezing momentarily until they moved higher to…

She let out a minuscule moan which echoed slightly in the empty bathroom and startled her. She stood there shocked for a few seconds before groaning. “Stop it stop it stop it!” She turned around and looked at herself in the mirror. “Pull yourself together, you’re better than this.”

She took a deep breath and psyched herself up once more. “You’re cool. Danny’s just your friend whether you like it or not. This is all fine. It’s just the other kids and Kitty who are working you up like this,” she muttered quietly to herself as she sauntered back over to the classroom.

She opened the door and instantly regretted it as every pair of eyes in the room looked towards her. “Miss Manson, is everything alright?” Mrs. Tetslaff looked up from her desk.

“Y-yeah everything is fine.” Sam felt the more she told herself this, the more it would become true.

“Fantastic. No more interruptions like that.” The teacher went back to her crossword puzzle as if nothing had happened. Sam walked back to her seat and sat down, eyeing the banana with the condom on it suspiciously. Stupid high school. She pushed it to the corner of her desk where it wouldn’t be staring right in her face.

“Now that we’ve covered things leading up to sex, like consent, condoms, and birth control, we will briefly go over what qualifies as sex. There are a few different types,” Mallory started up again.

Paulina turned towards Sam and snickered, “Elliot caught you and Danny having a quickie in the hallway, how scandalous!” She held her phone up and waved it in the air.

“What?!” Sam squeaked. Mrs. Tetsflaff sent her a glare until she sunk in her seat again. “That’s not true, I just ran into him in the hallway!” She hastily whispered once the teacher’s attention was no longer on her.

“You can’t deny it. Elliot sent me a picture.”

“Ugh gross. What? But nothing happened! How did you get your phone back anyways? I saw you turn it in earlier.” Sam crossed her arms over her chest. Maybe she could bust Paulina. Not that an A-lister breaking the rules would ever garner attention, or rather detention. Sam groaned internally. That would never work. Plus, Paulina apparently had a compromising picture she could easily use as blackmail.

“Please,” Paulina stuffed her phone back into her bra, “like I don’t keep one on me at all times. This is my burner phone where Elliott gives me all the gossip.” Sam narrowed her eyes. So that’s what Paulina was doing with her backpack earlier. Secretly texting the jerkface. Paulina and Elliot managed to sneak extra phones in? She wondered if Tucker would be pissed or impressed. Pissed, because he had to turn in all of his devices. Impressed, because Paulina had more than one phone and he would think she had tech-nerd potential. Sam snorted to herself.

“I’m surprised you still have room in there,” Sam retorted.

“Ladies, please. There are a few more topics we need to cover before lunch.” Mallory interrupted the conversation before Paulina could scold Sam. “Now, as I was saying, there are different types of sex: oral, anal, and vaginal. Whichever option you choose, it is important to use protection and other tools such as lube to both protect you and your partner and to have the best experience. Remember that consent is important! Please open your informational packets to page six and we’ll get the worst part over with.”

Sam rolled her eyes; as if the “worst part” hadn’t happened to her fifteen times over already. She jumped a bit when one of Paulina’s long and sharp nails jabbed her in the arm and sent the girl a death glare. She opened her mouth and was about to let the Latina girl have it, but Paulina held up her phone once more, showing Sam the picture on her phone. It certainly did not look like they had only literally ran into each other and fell down. Stupid Elliot. Stupid Paulina. Stupid day. Sam wanted nothing more than for this day to be over and for everyone to go back to their typical method of ignoring her existence. She scoffed and turned the page in her packet, bracing herself.

The instructor read through the packet’s section on the actual act of sex, several girls shifting uncomfortably in their seats, the rest tuning the whole thing out. “Sam clearly already knows so much about this. Maybe you and Danny should be teaching the class.” Sam rolled her eyes, stretched her leg out, and kicked her cousin’s shin for that comment.

“For the last time, Danny and I are just friends and are going to stay that way. Nothing is going on between us, we aren’t dating, he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t even have a boyfriend. I don’t know how else I can dumb it down enough for you guys to understand,” Sam said bitterly.

“I don’t know why you’re denying it,” Paulina started, “it’s so obvious you love him.”

“Yeah, you really just need to admit that to yourself, Sam. It’ll make your life a lot easier,” Valerie chimed in.

“Just admit it, you like him and totally want to see him naked. We all know you do.” Star twisted her hair around her finger boredly.

“I do not!” Sam protested.

“Maybe we’ll leave you alone if you do.” Sam didn’t trust her cousin for one second, but with all of the girls staring her down, she decided to take her chances in hopes that they would hold up their end of the bargain.

She sighed and played with her bracelet nervously. “Alright, fine...maybe I do like him. But it’s certainly not any of your business, and if any of you ever tell Danny or anyone else about any of the things said today, I will put your decapitated head on a spike and stick it in front of the school as a warning not to cross me and then use your remaining body parts as human compost. At least then you’d be contributing to society in some way.” Sam looked up and saw several of the girls staring at her; she smirked at the ones who looked absolutely repulsed at her threat.

“Finally!” Valerie groaned. “You admitted it out loud. Now let’s all just get through these next fifteen minutes until we get a break for lunch. You guys are making this a lot longer and more painful to sit through. I have much better things to do than try to keep this civil.”

The girls all turned towards the instructor once more, with the exception of Star and Paulina, who had moved on to another piece of Casper High gossip. Sam breathed out a sigh of relief and looked to see what Mallory was up to now. She eyed the few items placed on the desk in the front of the room. What the heck was the Fenton Ecto Lipstick Laser doing here? She glanced up at the instructor again and decided that maybe now was a good time to pay attention. “...toys that can be used during sex or masturbation, like this one here.” Sam blushed as Mallory held up what Sam had assumed was a Fenton gadget, knowing she had thought very, very wrong. She would never be able to use that weapon ever again. Did the Fentons know that their gadgets looked so inappropriate?! Shit, and she had quite a few of them inside her locker too. As much as she loved seeing her mom burst all the little veins in her head, if her mom got any little ideas in her head, Sam would probably end up in some French boarding school with no way to contact the outside world.

Sam shook her head and looked at Mallory pointing to a messy diagram on the board. “And this here is the clitoris, and it’s sole purpose is for you to feel pleasure. It actually has several thousands of nerve endings in it! Isn’t that fascinating?!” Mallory looked eagerly at the high school students, actually peaking some interest now. Sam looked over at Tetslaff, who had set her puzzle down and suddenly seemed interested. Damn. For Tetslaff to actually be paying attention, this part must be super important.

Mallory went into a few more details. “So, stimulating it will give you more pleasure regardless of what else is going on. Any questions?” Several hands shot up in the air, including one from Tetslaff. Gross. “Excellent! You first.” Mallory beamed as she turned to Tetslaff.

Oh no no. Sam was definitely tuning this part out. She started paging through the booklet again. It’s not that she wasn’t mature about the whole thing - she was actually learning some stuff - but she did NOT need to think about one of her teachers having sex.

Were the guys learning this stuff too? Was Lancer being as active as Tetslaff? Sam shivered. Didn’t need to go there.

She looked down at the booklet and pulled it closer to herself so no one would notice. She peeked at the diagram of the male anatomy before quickly looking away. She didn’t entirely see the appeal, but it was probably different when it was inside of you. She lightly blushed. She could do this. She’s mature. No one should know she’s fazed by this. Goth indifference. Maturity. She can handle this.

Sam looked up when she felt someone’s eyes on her, spotting Valerie with a slight smirk on her face.

“Taking notes, Manson?” Valerie laughed.

Sam responded with her middle finger. “Not. A. Word.” Her response just made Valerie laugh even harder. Sam smiled; she liked being friends with Valerie.

Speaking of friends, how were Tucker and Danny handling this? She figured Tucker would be the worst off, although Danny really never understood where babies came from until 8th grade. Sam laughed to herself at that. Boys.

“My Phantom would wear briefs for sure!” Paulina bragged, grabbing Sam’s attention once more.

“No, he’s definitely a boxers guy,” Star said sternly while brushing her fingers through her hair.

“I don’t know, I’m kinda with Pauli on this one,” Lauren spoke up, “his suit is so tight.”

“Oh!” Paulina gasped and clapped her hands together, “Phantom goes commando!” A few other girls joined in her squealing. “Now I know that when the ghost boy comes to rescue me, I won’t have to work very hard so we can share our first time together!” Paulina’s eyes shined as she started daydreaming. She was subconsciously squeezing her breasts together. Ugh. “I can’t believe the ghost boy flies around naked just for me!”

Sam slammed her hands on the desk, speaking to herself. “He wears boxer-briefs you ignorant twats!”

Silence. She had said it with absolute certainty.

Valerie raised her eyebrows at Sam and smirked. Paulina looked offended. “Ugh, why would the ghost boy tell you anything, freak?”

Sam finally looked up after someone got her attention and she looked at all the other girls confused. Once realizing her internal thoughts had actually been an outburst that people heard, her face brightened to a deep scarlet. “Wh-what? I didn’t, I mean, why would I? It was just...I mean, pfft what are you guys talking about?” Sam tried to play it cool.

“Oooo she DEFINITELY knows something! Look at that blush!!” Star squealed. Paulina shot daggers at Sam.

“No, I just...uhhhh…” Sam literally could not think of a single excuse as to why she would know what type of underwear Danny wears. She can’t exactly say she patches him up all the time or talk about all the mishaps with his pants when he was getting used to his new powers. Damn, why didn’t that still happen now? NOT THE POINT. “I….asked him?”

Paulina let out a laugh, “Why would you ever need to talk to him anyways? He doesn’t talk to losers.”

“We’re not losers!” Sam quickly caught her mistake, “I mean, I’m not a loser, I just talk to him sometimes.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you know what he wears. Unless,” a small gasp from Star, “unless you fucked the ghost boy too?! Does Danny know?!”

Sam’s head made an audible thump when she slammed it against her desk, her dark hair covering her face completely. “Valerie. Help,” Sam quietly muttered into her desk.

Fortunately, Valerie had heard it. “Uh, Sam just was writing for the fan zine on Phantom and had to ask him. You know, for the readers. Journalism and stuff,” Valerie tried.

Sam let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, I can’t believe this! Sam is cheating on my Phantom with Danny!” Paulina growled, “I’m going to tell Phantom the truth and then he’ll be all mine,” Paulina sneered.

“Oh my fucking god, oh my god, what is this fucking day?!” Sam picked her head up and groaned. “Paulina, I promise it’s not what you think it is.”

“I’m not listening to a word you say, you two-timing slut!”

“Woah, uncalled for!” Valerie sternly pointed at Paulina. “I don’t know how Sam knows Phantom, but I can guarantee you it’s none of your goddamn business. Back off!”

Paulina glared at her former friend and pretended she wasn’t phased. “Whatever. Wait until Elliot tells her little boyfriend her secret though,” she smiled mischievously and slyly pulled her phone out from her bra and started frantically typing a message. “Even if she is a bitch, it’s still good gossip.”

Valerie sighed and tried to calm the other girls down. Sam was trying to figure out if she was having a stroke or not. Was all of this actually happening? Did Nocturne take over again? Oh man, now she had to warn Danny that there were rumors flying around that she was having sex with both halves of him! Danny will never want to be seen with her again and...wait, both halves? ...at the same time? She knows he can duplicate, and that could be really -

The bell ringing broke her thought process, thank god.

“Alright ladies, grab one of the bags on the way out, go have lunch, then we will meet back in the guys’ classroom to summarize the topics covered today. Feel free to bring your bananas to lunch, just please remove the condom before eating it. We’ve had too many incidents at other schools already. See you in thirty minutes!” Mallory clapped her hands and held a box with little bags in it, making sure every girl took one as they left the classroom.

Valerie sent Sam a gentle pat on the back for support before leaving. Sam scoffed at everything that has happened already today and gathered her things, ripping the condom off her banana and slingshotting it until it got caught in Paulina’s hair without her noticing. She smiled triumphantly and made her way to the front of the room, grabbing a bag on her way out. She walked to her locker and couldn’t help but peek inside the “goodie” bag. A large handful of condoms, a small tube of lube, a tablet of Plan B, some stickers, and more informational packets. Whoopie, she couldn’t wait to go home and read through those. She shoved her things in her locker and smiled softly as she saw her friends approaching her. She knew they would put her in a better mood. She took a deep breath and composed herself.

#blush #sex ed fic #danny phantom #sam manson #stephanie writes sometimes

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bastillewolf · 5 years ago

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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.”

#Arctic Monkeys #Alex Turner #Alex Turner x Reader #Matt Helders #Miles Kane #TLSP #The Last Shadow Puppets #Nick O'Malley #AM #TBHC #Jamie Cook #Wpsiatwin #Humbug #Suck It And See #Fanfiction

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justafanwarrior · 5 years ago

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** Prompt : Marinette has a snow dragon soulmark and no idea who it could be. Toshiro Hitsugaya has a ladybug soulmark and knows about Marinette, but she can’t see him until something happens to her.**

As long as she could remember Marinette always had four soulmarks, a blue snake around her left ankle, a red dragon around the right ear, a red bug with a chinese symbol behind on her left wrist and finally a snow dragon around her waist with its head resting on her heart. She new it wasn’t commune but she loved each of them deeply. She grew up wondering about their identities, creating clothes inspired by them.

However her soulmarks were also different, when she felt happy the wings of the ladybug would start flapping, when she was nervous the snake would feel like if it was trying to be wrapped around her even more to comfort her, when she was upset she could hear the tiny dragon around her ear hissing in anger. Finally, when she was scared, the snow dragon would move, he moved around her in a protective embrace. Her soulmarks were different, but it wasn’t bad, it was all she could ever hope for.

She never had a lot of friends beside Kim who she grew up with because their mothers were close friends. He was her big brother always protecting her even when she didn’t need it. She was ecstatic when he met his soulmate, a very smart boy named Max, it didn't stop her from threatening the boy if hé ever dared hurting her brother. Though she was also sad when he stopped hanging out with her, but she decided to smile because her brother had met his other half.

Time had passed, she became LadyBug and met her first soulmate, her kwami. Tikki explained that sometimes miraculous wielder were soulmates with their kwami, proving that they are a perfect match, and often their others soulmates were other miraculous wielder. She was sad during a moment that neither Adrien nor Chat Noir were her soulmate.

She never been as happy than the day she met Kagami. Her protective red dragon. It was hard at first, Kagami didn’t liked her at all. But they tried, and they grew closer. They even been in a relationship during a moment, a pretty long moment, but they broke up after three wonderful years. They would be best friends instead maybe sister as time would pass.

It’s not long after meeting her fierce dragon that she met her calm snake. He was the brother of a classmate, Luka was a very talented musician. They seemed to link immediatly, they loved each other too, soon he joined her relationship with Kagami. When they broke up he ended with the japonese, Marinette was the only one leaving this relationship. She loved them but was searching for something else, though when they hang out it usually ends on a date.

Marinette loved her soulmates, they always been there for her. They were here when she needed backup and Chat was missing, they were here to comfort her after the loss of her mentor, they were here when Lila turned her whole class against her, they saved her when Lila made Alya ‘accidentally’ triped her in the stairs. The dark-haired girl didn’t know what happened exactly, only that she woke up at Kagami crying on her chest and Luka screaming at the class with tears in his eyes.

Since that day, she was able to see ghosts. She freaked out when she woke up in the morning to see a girl in a spotted armor, black hair and a scar on her mouth behind her. Turned out she was Joan of Arc, a former LadyBug, each day a different former wielder would be there. And boy, wasn’t she trilled to see THE Hua Mulan behind her girlfriend, she was her hero her whole life !

She was 17 when she finally met her fourth and last soulmate. They were in a schooltrip in the town of Karakura in Japon, she was happy to be fluent thanks to Kagami whose mother refused to be in a relationship with someone who won’t at least learn their culture and language. Beside Kagami herself leaded the trip no matter how much Lila would complain because ‘She was not even part of the school’.

They visited ‘Karakura High School’ with Orihime Inoue, who presented them to her class. Marinette particulary liked her friends Sado ‘Chad’ Yasutora and Ichigo Kurosaki, though Uryu Ishida and Tatsuki Arisawa were also nice. Even if she had to nearly break the arm of a girl named Chizuru Honsho who tried to touch her, she ran really fast once she saw the anger on the Tsurugi girl whose reputation followed her.

Everything was going well until Lila started talking, like always. She started to insult their culture while just faking not knowing that it was an insult. She was driving the spotted hero crazy and her ghost of the day, an amazon named Hippolytia, wouldn’t stop giving her means to kill the girl.

Sadly, for the italian girl, the class they were meeting weren’t fools and stopped listening to her once they understood the only thing that came from her mouth were lies.

The designer was happy, she was having a great time, and then the door opened pretty violently. She prepared herself for an attack but then forced herself to calm, it was not Paris, she was not a hero here. It was just another girl, black short hair, pretty small, not as small as she was herself but still, there was a few people behind her, a boy with red hair, a woman with orange hair and a really big chest, and finally a short boy with white hair and beautiful turquoise eyes. She hold her breath a moment at the sight, for some reason her heart missed a beat and decided that he would take his time to recover.

Marinette couldn’t help but notice that he was not wearing the uniform as were the people with him except the black-haired girl, no, he was wearing what Kagami called a Haori, he also had a katana on his back, now that she paid attention, so were the others.

She stared at them during a moment until Lila made fun of her.

‘‘What are you looking at Marinette there’s nothing here but if you are searching for intellect you should look after me.’’ The italian girl snorted, making the half chinese girl realizing that they were ghosts.

Some of the others laughed as well, Kim looked utterly uncomfortable but said nothing. The blue-eyed girl sent him a hurt and disppointed look, which he looked away. Coward. The liar thought she was smart to talk in french then the japonese class wouldn’t understand. Too bad for her once again, this class has been chose specifically because they studied french as well. And from the anger in the faces of the friends she made, they DID understood.

Kagami and Ichigo stepped up to defend me, but it was my turn, there wasn’t any Hawkmoth to akumatised her in case of reveal here, Adrien couldn’t make me stop with his ‘kicked-puppy look’. A bloodthirsty grin grew on me, and my dear storm dragon understood my intention since she took out her phone to record the showdown.

‘‘Aww, poor Lila she hadn’t realized yet that without her very dear boss to save her by akumatisation, I will not let her step on me. Now where shall I start ?’’ She said in a voice as sweet as poison. ‘‘How will I destroy this little kingdom of yours ?’’

The sausage girl took a step back in fear, ah, finally understanding comes at her. Marinette was not someone you wanted as an enemy. Said girl’s smirk grew when she felt Tikki trying to hide a laugh in her purse, nice she might be, but she also spent milleniums with Plagg, she knew how to make a great revenge, she knew how to cause Chaos. And for now, the anger she kept in her during years was all concentrated on one Rossi girl who dared hurt HER chosen, HER soulmate, She won’t let this go easily and will enjoy each second of her fall.

Plagg hide a smile from Adrien's bag, the boy could be an idiot but he was a good Chat, the only reason why he kept his miraculous, but at this moment, the god of destruction had to keep ears open, a revenge from his sugarcube and her chosen was always worth it, after all last time it happened, it caused more destruction than when he destroyed Atlantis.

In the corner of her eyes, the wielder of the miraculous of ladybug could see the white-haired boy looking at her with interest.

‘‘So this is my soulmate, she finally let her rage showing her the way to follow.’’ He let a chuckle escape his lips before smirking, he will enjoy this ‘‘A true avenging angel.’’.

The only thing he was not expecting was when she turned her head to look at him in the eyes, like if she could see him, but she couldn’t, only the dead could see each others, shinigami, quincy, hollows or simply ghost, Kurosaki was just an exception. Even a wielder of the miraculous couldn’t, this fact being proved by the confuse look on the other soulmate of LadyBug.

The girl only smiled at her, before turning back to the girl who dared insulting her. He knew what was happening in her life, he just had to wait for her as long as he needed to. He could be patient after all how couldn’t he be with Matsumoto as his second.

Toshiro Hitsugaya, captain of the tenth division of the soul society, watched amused as his soulmate destroyed each lie, each word that ever came form the mouth of her bully. But it wasn’t enough and soon after she turned her hurtful but no less truthful words to her other classmates, leaving them in the verge of tears. Oh, but she hadn’t finish, finally she turned to her childhood friends. The wielder of Hyorinmaru raised an hairbrow, sincerly curious, knowing that the girl was truly fond of the half asian boy.

‘’You know Kim, I always been happy that you found your soulmate in Max, he always been able to bring you back on earth when you were too far. I was hurt when you refused to hang out with me, but I understood that he was more important, I really did. But I was dumb to think that despite the fact that we stopped being like we used to, you would still think of me like you did. Because you never stopped to be my dear big brother in my eyes but I can see that it was not shared. After all didn’t you promised that you would always protect me from those who want to hurt me.’’ She started talking louder when he tried to interrupt her. ‘‘Didn’t you promised to be there for me when i met my soulmates like I was for you when you met yours ?’’

He opened his mouth to defend himself but was interrupt by a loud snort from the girl wearing glasses.

‘‘You hadn’t met your soulmate Mari you would have told me beside stop using plurial, nobody can have more than one soulmate, and if you did you would have told me as your bestie.’’ Alya if he remembered correctly spit.

The blond girl with the sunglasses started laughing when the other finished talking.

‘‘ Oh you’ve got to be kidding me Cesaire ! Why would Dupain-Cheng tell you ? You’ve been worst to her than I ever been and I tried to steal her design and put it on her what could’ve ruin her whole career and bullied her during years. And you know why I started bullying her ? It was because she had four soulmates everybody at school knew that. How far did you fallen to think that she thinks about you as a friend after all you have done ? The only ones she supports in this class is the tomatoe boy and myself, because we apologized long ago.’’ Mocked the former wielder of the bee.

The day ended well for Marinette, she had a weight off her shoulders now that she said what she thought to the class and could even enjoy the rest of the time with her new friends. That didn’t stop her either to notice that nobody saw the people in haori except for the orange head and the short girl that she learned was named Rukia Kuchiki. Or to notice that the boy with turquoise eyes looked at her the whole time. The reminder made her blush slightly what Hippolytia saw and then started to tease the newest ladybug about.

The evening came and Kagami brought her to a date for the ‘good old time’ she said. But really Mari was too fond of her to say no, and she also needed a good time with her fierce dragon before they leaved High School.

In the way back to the hotel she felt like she had somewhere else to be and leaved Kagami after a kiss on her cheek. She walked down the alley following her instinct. Finally she fell on a sight that highly reminded her of some of the worse akumas back in Paris. Once again she wanted to transform but this was not her work, beside, there was already a group of people taking care of it and she heard it.

‘‘Daiguren Hyorinmaru !’’ Screamed the boy with white hair from earlier.

Her eyes widened at the sight of a dragon made of ice, she realized then the reason why her own snow dragon started getting warmer this morning. She had met her last soulmate and didn’t even aknowledged it, though he seemed to know who she was. Finally she took the decision to wait the end of the fight to talk to him, that wouldn’t end well if he was the kind ‘stab first, ask later’.

She watched mesmerized by the way he and the people she recognized as his fellows fought. That was nothing like Kagami fought with her own katana but at the same time, it was oddly familiar.

Finally the fight ended, and she made them aknowledged her presence by a cough. And finally she spoke her first words to her fourth soulmate.

‘‘To be honest I never thought you would be some ghost but I’m still very happy to meet you, Just in case you don’t already know, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Merry met dear soulmate.’’

So this was my try for a prompt adressed to @musicfeedsmysoul12 I hope the one who asked will be happy, it was not what wanted to do at start but I like it. English is not my native language so i won’t say no to constructive criticism ! Plus, it’s been a very long time since the last time I saw/read Bleach.

I forgot I did this tbh...

#mlb #mlb crossover #mlb au #mlb/bleach #Soulmate Au #soulmarks #multiple soulmates #lukagaminette #lukagami #mlb salt

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sunshinesholland · 5 years ago

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the one (and all the others) [2] | t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 5.35k

Warnings: swearing, angst/pining, allusion to abusive past relationships, PTSD mention

Summary: It’s possible Tom would have outgrown the crush, but after one night where feelings were confessed and tears were shed, everything changed. And the worst of it all is that the two of you don’t talk about it, or even acknowledge that it happened. But that’s how it always goes right? It’s good until it’s not.

A/N: This part is a flashback to the night Tom alludes to in part one (see summary above). This is just some exposition to explain their relationship and past. I also just want to say a huge thank you for such a great reaction to my writing so far. It’s something I used to be so passionate about and it feels lovely to get back into it :) Let me know your thoughts, or if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

part one || part two || part three

eighteen months ago

Tom and you are sat on the couch, tangled up in your favorite blanket with Iron Man 2 playing in the background. Zendaya is away on a family trip, so naturally you and Tom are spending the whole weekend watching your favorite movies and eating lots of takeout. It’s not too different from your usual time spent together, but it’s always nice to not feel like you’re bugging her. You’re about tell him the things you’ve learned in your psychology class this week, but instead he’s trying to get you to thumb wrestle him, determined to win.

“Okay, you know what? You’re the one who wanted to watch this movie! The second one isn’t even my favorite and now you’re thumb wrestling me instead of even watching it,” you say exasperated, though the grin on your face shows you’re enjoying your time together all the same.

“Well, you’re the one that wanted to talk instead of watch so technically this is all your fault. I just want something to do while you tell me about… about, uh,” he pauses, long enough for you to tuck his thumb under yours.

“About arousal theory,” you finish, knowing he won’t remember what you’ve been trying to tell him the past five minutes.

“Oh, now all of a sudden I’m interested, continue,” he grins at you, putting his hand under his chin to (dramatically) show he’s averted his full attention to you.

“If you were paying attention, you would know that’s not at all what that means, Tommy,” you laugh, and face away from him to watch the movie.

“Well, if it was maybe then--” he’s cut off by your phone ringing and vibrating on the coffee table.

The caller ID shows a picture of your friend George that lights up the screen. Since most people don’t opt for calling, especially in your friend group, you answer quickly.

“Hello?” You question, nervous something’s wrong with him or another of your friends.

“Y/N!” He excitedly shouts in your ear, so much so that you have to take it away from your ear. At least now you know there’s nothing wrong but your bleeding eardrums.

“I tried calling Tom’s phone but it went straight to voicemail! I’ve got some exciting news and I figured he’s with you though, yeah?” He continues to shout over the noise on his side.

“I’ll put you on speakerphone,” you reply and do just that, before you place it on the coffee table.

“Is there a congratulations in order?” Tom asks, a knowing smile on his face. You look at Tom, confused as to what he is talking about.

“Hell yeah there is! She cried and I cried but she said yes! Her family is over right now but the whole gang is coming over for celebratory drinks later, are ya in?” George asks, and you quickly connect the dots.

“Wait, you proposed to Gwen?! And you didn’t tell me? And more importantly, you didn’t ask for my help?” You question in quick succession, because as resident hopeless romantic, you should really be the first one your friends come to for things like this.

You then turn to Tom who’s chuckling at your excitement, and now you’re yelling at him, “but you knew? And didn’t tell me either?!”

You chuck a pillow at him, which he dodges before laughing harder at. He ignores you and leans towards the phone to reply to George’s invitation.

“We’ll be there, George. Just text me the details, oh and tell Gwen she’s a div for saying yes,” Tom replies, laughing when George replies with a ‘sure thing!’ before hanging up. He’s so excited he didn’t even register Tom’s comment as a jab, or needing a comeback (which is especially amusing considering how quippy George usually is).

Gwen and George are a few years older than the rest of your friend group, so you’re a little unsynchronized in your points in life but they’re close friends with you all nonetheless. They have been going out since before anyone in your group has known them. They’re high school sweethearts, best friends, lovers and everything in between. They’ve been through so much in all their time together. They had been told they would never last for the first four years of their relationship. When they ended up on opposite coasts since George left to a startup business and Gwen stayed home to go to culinary school, they were told that one of them would cheat if they didn’t get bored of the distance and each other before then. When they ended up on the same coast in recent years, people assumed Gwen wouldn’t want to stay with him as he wasn’t making much money and had yet to pop the question. Neither Gwen or George paid any mind to any opinions or judgements and were happy taking their time. They were secure with where they were at and whether a shiny ring on her finger and piece of paper happened tomorrow or years in the future, it didn’t matter to either of them when it happened when they knew how they felt.

Now two years later, George’s business has taken off, they live upstate in a nice apartment with their sweet little French bulldog and they’re stable enough to plan the big, romantic wedding they both want. It’s heartwarming every time either of them tells you about their story, or talks about each other at all. Which is why you’re pissed you’re only finding out now.

“I cannot believe you didn’t even tell me,” you mumble, crossing your arms across your chest with your eyes trained on the TV, “you’re shit at keeping secrets, but this one you decide to not tell me.”

“You’re just jealous that he came to me advice rather than you,” he grins, laying his head in your lap to look up at you.

“Well yeah! You’re not even into all that lovey-dovey, romantic stuff, I am. When you dated that girl last year you couldn’t even think of a gift to give her for Christmas, I had to pick one out. And Harry said you never even said ‘I love you’ to any of your girlfriends growing up and I’ve never heard you say that either.” you pout at the TV, despite not paying attention because it’s just your excuse to not look down at him.

Except that he is into all that lovey-dovey stuff. Or at least he has been since he met you. It’s cheesy, but it’s like you’ve lent him the rose-colored glasses you see the world through and he’s eternally grateful for it. Of course, it helps that he’s in love with you and watching you admire romance and the idea of a fairytale ending is enough to make anyone fall just as hard as he has. But all of that is just too heavy considering you’ve only recently returned to your usual self. Tom can’t be selfish and risk hurting you when you’ve only just begun to heal from your shitty ex-boyfriend. What you need now is your friend and so instead of any declaration of love, he jokes with you.

“Guess the ladies love me because I love hard enough in other ways,” he says, winking at you.

“I live across the hall, so I know definitely not hard enough, Holland” you retort back, grabbing the last pillow on the couch to throw at his face.

The both of you are in Tom’s car, on the way to Gwen and George’s apartment. The setting sun streams through the passing trees, while Tom’s playlist (the one full of all the songs you like, that he’ll always deny was made specifically for you) plays throughout the car.

Tom glances at you as you lean your head against the window. You’ve been silent the whole car ride. Not singing along to your favorite song or blabbering about the romance of the engagement, which is unbelievably out of character. He turns down the volume on the stereo so it’s quiet enough to hear the wind whip against the car.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions, sneaking a glance at you before returning his eyes to the road, pulling onto their street.

You don’t say anything for a few minutes, making him think you didn’t hear him. He pulls into a parking spot, thankful for not having to parallel park, and is about to repeat the question when you finally reply.

“Nothing important.” You say and of course Tom doesn’t believe it. Before he can question the honesty of your reply, you’re opening the passenger door and beginning to walk up to their apartment.

Tom takes the keys out of the ignition and exits the car, quick to catch up to you. It's colder upstate, allowing the snow to form a thick blanket on the ground. It’s fresh and fluffy, effectively dampening all ambient sound outside. While he really wants to ask you again, he can tell you’re not ready to talk yet so he stays silent on the walk up to the apartment building as well as the elevator ride up.

You reach to knock on the door, greeted immediately by George.

“Hey guys! I’m glad you could make it,” he smiles, practically beaming. They’ve both always known it was in the cards for them to get engaged and of course married, but damn if he wasn’t ecstatic about it finally happening.

“Gwen’s in the living room, on her fourth glass of champagne so naturally she’s already started her own acapella concert in there,” he tells you, looking absolutely smitten just thinking about his future bride, even as a drunk, goofy mess.

“Oh, and Jacob brought some celebratory cigars and since you were such a huge part in helping me plan this, I’d love if you’d join me for one,” George offers Tom.

Tom looks towards you, not wanting to leave when your mood seems off like this. He doesn’t want to flat out say no to George, but you can tell this is his silent way of asking.

“You can go, I’m gonna go see Gwen. I hate the smell of them anyways,” you reassure him with a smile and congratulate George before walking through the apartment to find her.

Gwen is surrounded by people talking to her and congratulating her but as soon as she sees you, she comes running.

“Y/N! Hi! I’m engaged!” She shouts despite the music not being at a loud volume, champagne in one hand and flashing the other with the ring on it at you.

“I know you did, that’s why I came,” you reply with a smile, leaning in to greet your tipsy friend with a hug.

For a while you’re chatting with her and some other friends, not really as energetic as you would be but most people have been here longer than you and are already a little tipsy, so no one notices. You’re in the middle of half-listening to one of Gwen’s co-workers tell all of you about their upcoming trip to somewhere you don’t really care about, when a hand is placed on your back.

“Do you mind if I steal Y/N away from you for a moment?” He asks and he’s behind you but you can just tell he’s got on a charming smile (but isn’t it always charming to you?)

All of the intoxicated girls grin at his English accent and endearing smile, nodding simultaneously and encouraging him to take you away. You think one may have even said ‘hell, you can take me!’, but regardless, Tom utters a thank you regardless. With his hand in yours, he leads you through the apartment and onto the balcony. The smell of cigar smoke lingers outside and the night air is chilling against your bare arms, having left your jacket inside.

“You brought me away from friends, free booze and the warmth of the indoors to… have me smell some cigar smoke?” You joke, arms hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm.

“You’re being weird,” he replies before sliding glass door shut, blocking out the music and talking from inside.

“Excuse me?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows at him, “so you’re gonna force me to be cold, smell cigar smoke, and call me weird? I’m going inside then.”

“Okay I’m sorry for saying you’re being weird,” he says quickly, “But, can you please sit down with me? You can even have my jacket,” he offers, and shrugs it off to hand to you.

You eye the jacket, then the table, before grabbing his coat and sitting down. Bundling yourself up in his warm jacket, the smoke scent lingers on his coat, but it's mixed with his familiar cologne and that’s enough to be comforting.

“I just, I really love engagements and romance and I realize I haven’t really been excited for two of my closest friends when that’s all tonight is about. It’s just kind of weird behavior on my part and I wanted to talk to you about it,” Tom replies dramatically (the damned acting major).

You look down at the table because you know exactly what he’s doing. Really, it’s hard not to, he knows how stubborn you are and reads you better than anyone, so voices his concern this way. If he says something flat out, you don’t really have a chance to deny it.

“Oh, no wait. That’s you.” He finishes his sentence and pulls out the chair on the opposite side of the table to sit down in.

“Haha, that never gets old.” You reply sarcastically, running your fingers across the glass that covers the top of the table.

He places his hand atop of yours, stilling your movements. You look up to him, unblinking and expressionless.

“Really, N/N what’s wrong? You were excited earlier and you’re practically the president of the Gwen/George fan club so if you don’t get excited, they’re going to find another leader.” He jokes but stops when you don’t smile.

“It’s nothing,” you reply, biting at your cheek. You’re trying your best to not rain on their parade, and no one notices but Tom. But if he keeps pushing, you’re not going to be able to hold your stupid emotions in.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he reprimands, squeezing your hand, “you know you can tell me anything.”

You look at the closed door and no one else is out here, or paying attention and Tom is your best friend, and maybe if you talk about it, you’ll be able to enjoy the party.

“Sometimes I just worry it will never happen for me,” you start, looking down at your hands, “getting married I mean. Or anything relatively close, like finding someone who loves me long enough to even stay more than a few months…”

“And I know I’m only 23, and they’re 28 so they’re at a different point in their life and they’ve been going out forever but..” you pause, and Tom doesn’t interrupt, just listens.

“After what happened with him, I’m scared of ever trying again. More than that, I think I just feel like that maybe that’s the best I’ll ever get, or even deserve,” you finish, with tears welling up in your eyes, and you look away, out over the balcony.

Tom gets up and you close your eyes, letting the tears fall because maybe he thinks you’re selfish for making this night about you somehow and he’s leaving. But instead, he pulls you up out of the chair and brings you to his chest and holds you tightly. You stay like that for a while, until the tears slow to a stop and your breathing has slowed to normal.

“Why would you ever think that’s the best you’ll get?” he asks and you look up at him, expecting some sort of joke because there’s no way he’s serious.

“Why wouldn’t I? I must deserve it in some regard after how deeply and unapologetically he hurt me. After all that happened and how long it went on for, it's hard not to think somehow, it’s my fault. I must have done something wrong.” The tears are welling in your eyes again, threatening to fall.

“You cannot seriously believe that,” He softly rubs his hands up and down your arms, “hey, look at me.”

He puts his hand under your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet his.

“Why would you ever think you deserve the kind of treatment he gave you?” He questions, and then repeats himself when you don’t answer, gingerly as though speaking too loud would scare you away.

“He wasn’t all bad,” you reply meekly, biting the inside of your cheek, “sometimes he--”

Tom cuts you off, “No, there’s no ‘sometimes’ for treating someone you’re supposed to love well, it’s not something you need to earn or something that’s rationed. He was a dick all the time, he just pretended not to be sometimes to manipulate you into staying.”

Your heart throbs at the blunt veracity of his words. Deep, deep down, under everything that has happened, all of the trauma and damage done, you know it’s true. Internally you’ve just been at a constant tug of war, trying to rationalize all that happened. Was he in love with you at all? Did you do something to make him hurt you like he did? Could you have fixed him? Was he good under it all and just hurting? Did you imagine it all? Were you not good enough in the end, even for him?

“Why manipulate me into staying if he was the one who ended up leaving in the end?” you question, and his own heart hurts at your words.

Tom’s not sure what to say because he saw your ex leave you and come back so many times. Saw how it slowly chipped away at you each time. When someone does that to you, time and time again, it takes away all your power. You feel helpless and like you can’t go on and the only thing you can do is wait for them to come back. While all of that makes Tom furious, and he wishes you were the one who dumped that asshole because he deserved it, he instead says what will best comfort you.

“Because he’s a blind idiot. But it’s probably the kindest thing he’s done your whole relationship,” he replies, before moving his hand from under your chin to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek, “and I know that sounds insensitive because you hurt for so long and you’re just getting over it, but it’s true.”

“You’ll find someone who fulfills all of those fairytale expectations, because you shouldn't settle for less and you don’t have to. Someone who is kind, and cares for you, and appreciates everything you are and have to offer. I’m not saying it will take away all the hurt you have felt, but they will love you so deeply that you’ll wonder how you ever thought you deserved any less,” he promises, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours.

He wants to say he’s that someone, confess the way he felt about you since the very beginning but that’s not what you need now. Instead he gives you one last squeeze and brings you down inside, out of the cold. He’s gotten you to at least talk about it and that at least means you won’t hide yourself away, hurting and staying silent in an attempt to not burden anyone. Not that you could ever be a burden, not to Tom.

It hurts a little less when you have someone like Tom by your side. Maybe people look at you two and think he’s suffering from white knight syndrome, like you need to rescued because you’re a damsel in distress. Maybe they think you love him because he’s doing the saving and you love him for such a shallow reason. Except it’s not that, you’re just healing on your own with your best friend being there to support you and love you. It is deeper than a fleeting attraction because someone has helped you. This love is patient, kind and unwavering. As cheesy as it sounds, Tom is someone you fell for slowly, and then all at once. You went to bed one night thinking of him as your best friend and woke up the next with the thought crossing your mind while you were in the shower; ‘I love my best friend so much’ and by the time you were done rinsing away your shampoo, you realized ‘shit, I love him’.

After that it was all you could think of for weeks, noticing all the ways he cared for you. Something as simple as asking if you had gotten enough sleep last night or giving you the cherry from his drinks because you love them so much. The way he locks eyes with you in a boring lecture to make sure you’re awake, the way his hand immediately grabs yours in crowds. Picking up your favorite chips when he goes grocery shopping, just so he always has them in the cupboard for you even though he doesn’t like them. The way he doesn’t just tolerate the things you like, and he doesn’t but gets excited for them simply because he likes seeing you enjoy things. The two of you are the other’s first person to tell both good and bad news alike to. The two of you may fight but neither of you are too embarrassed to admit you’re in the wrong to the other. He makes mundane things like getting gas or going grocery shopping entertaining. While you should be scared of him leaving or being hurt again, you’ve trusted him for so long with matters regarding your heart, it only seems right that he’s the one you trust to hold your it and not harm it. But you don’t want him to think he’s a rebound from the man who’s broken your heart only months ago, because it is so much deeper than that. Your love for him is so much deeper than that. So, you keep quiet, loving him silently.

You both have fallen so deeply into each other, but both too worried about caring for the other to say anything and tonight isn’t any different. The rest of the night is spent celebrating your friends’ engagement: dancing and drinking the night away. The two of you exchange longing glances throughout the entire evening, scared to break the silence regarding your feelings.

—

Tom pulls into your own apartment complex, parking before glancing over at you. Your eyes closed, mouth slightly opened, high heels in your lap while you’re curled up in the passenger seat. Tom unbuckles, reaching his hand over to softly shake your shoulder in an attempt to wake you gently. You continue your slumber, unphased by his disturbance.

“Y/N,” he calls softly. You’re still sleeping soundly, and you look so peaceful that Tom can’t help but reach over and tuck your hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger there.

Out of all the ways you could wake up, this could very well be the creepiest way to, Tom thinks. His thought must have manifested it because your eyes flutter open slowly. While he thinks to withdraw his hand and pretend he wasn’t just thinking about how breathtaking his best friend is (and how in love with her he is), you instead lean into his hand.

“Mm, hello,” you mumble, blinking to adjust to the darkness of the car. The few streetlights lining the parking lot let in just enough light for you to see his lovely face. Tom hasn’t shut off the car yet so heat is still on and his (really, your) playlist continues playing at a low volume.

“We’re home,” he says gently, trying not to be too loud as you shake off the effects of sleep.

The words make you feel warm, hearing him say ‘home’, despite the fact that you’ve definitely referred to the general complex as ‘home’ before. Maybe it’s just the circumstances; him waking you up tenderly from a night spent out together, like you’re lovers and he’s waking you so you can go inside to the bed you both share.

“Oh, okay,” you reply, rubbing at your eyes despite the presence of makeup.

“Want me to carry you up?” He asks, innocently enough. Except that it just furthers that fantasy of being together: being carried up to your home together.

“I mean, because you’re tired and you’ve had a bit to drink everything,” he quickly adds, “and I know they’re the lace up ones and you hate doing them up.” He points to the heels in your lap.

Of course, he’s just being his usual sweet self. He’s heard you complain about these shoes enough and knows the only reason you wear them is because you say the way they look is worth the effort. But he also knows when you’re drunk and the shoes come off, you’re past the point of no return and you’ll only ever get less put together, not more. Because he remembers things like that.

The thudding in your chest quiets a little, “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He turns off the car and gets out to walk around to your side. He opens the passenger door and grabs your shoes from you and allows you to wrap your hands around his neck. He adjusts his hold on you so he’s carrying you bridal style (great, that helps your romantic mindset) and you bury your face into his chest, telling yourself its only to shield your eyes from the change in lighting. He places you on the floor, since you’re safe from the slushy snow outside now. While he wishes he could have you in his arms the whole way up, there’s no reason for it and it would look strange since you’re just friends.

You walk barefoot beside him to the elevator, both of you silent on your way up. You’ve managed to make it home before 2 AM, but the hall and the whole complex is peacefully silent. When you reach your apartment, you both begin talking at the same time.

“I just wanted to say—”

“I hope you know—”

“Oh sorry, you go.”

“No, it’s okay, you go.”

You both laugh quietly as not to wake any of your neighbors, until Tom gestures for you to go ahead first.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For talking to me about everything tonight. And for not thinking I was absolutely awful to be thinking about myself during Gwen and George’s happy night,” you glance down at your bare feet, shy at tonight’s actions.

“You don’t have to apologize,” and he continues before you can interrupt, “you really don’t. I know you and so I know it wasn’t something you did out of selfishness.”

He reaches for your hand and holds it between you two, while the other reaches up to stroke your cheek, which you lean into again. It’s an intimate gesture he doesn’t usually do, but has managed twice tonight, and it feels like walking the line of friendship and lovers.

“You deserve so much better than anything he ever gave you, or anything anyone has ever given you. You deserve the world and I can’t believe you would ever think otherwise. I will always fight for your fairytale ending, even if you give up or think you don’t deserve it.”

Your heart swells and you want to thank him for all that he’s saying, but he only continues.

“I always want you to feel like you can talk to me, because I will always be here because I, I lo-“ he stops himself and your heart begins thudding again, because maybe he feels the same way you do.

“I-I look out for you. And you look out for me, right?” he finishes, his voice unsteady and you’re beyond disappointed.

You rest your hand atop the hand of his that cups your face.

Despite how nervous you feel, and how clammy your hands are getting and the thumping in your chest, you look into his eyes bravely and ask, “Tom, do you love me?”

“Of course I do, you’re my—”

“No. I am asking you; do you love me?”

When he doesn’t say yes, but he also doesn’t say no you decide to make the first move. You lean in to kiss him, but quickly his hands pull out of yours, pressing gently against your shoulders. Your brain goes into full panic mode: you cannot believe you misread the signals so badly, you cannot believe you tried to kiss your best friend. You turn away from him, fumbling with your keys and shoving the apartment key into the lock, shoving it in, scrambling to escape from this mess.

Tom certainly isn’t drunk since he had to drive home but the emotion bubbling inside of his chest is far more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol could be. He’s grasping at words, trying to try to express what he’s feeling right now but his thoughts are jumbled and clouded.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, walking to follow you into your apartment, desperate to explain himself.

Your turn around, pressing your hand against his chest, leaving it there for a moment, not meeting his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to hold your hands or assure you in any way, so you turn around to enter your apartment. You close the door softly and turn the lock, and maybe that’s scarier than you slamming the door in anger. You press your forehead to the door, eyes closed and attempting not to feel all that you are right now, as deeply as you are. You could not be more thankful for Zendaya’s family trip as she is unable to see the stupid attempt at an advance. She is not here to pretend that what you did wasn’t stupid, or that you didn’t make the biggest mistake.

You’re frustrated and annoyed that you’re hurting like this. You’re frustrated that you were stupid enough to think you’re not a broken mess, that you’re deserving of him, of love. Of course he doesn’t want anything more than friendship from you, he’s seen the train wreck that is your love life. Why would he willingly dive into that mess? To soften the ache in your heart you tell yourself that it’s better this way, you tell yourself you haven’t felt this way for as long as you have, that it's just the alcohol and the influence of the romance of your friend’s engagement. You pretend that you don’t feign sleep on Saturday mornings to stay in his arms just a little bit longer. Those longing glances at him from across the room at parties or class don’t happen. Even more, the times where he catches you and smiles before joining you, and makes you laugh and nothing else matters doesn’t happen either. All those times he comforts you and says things that straddle that line of friendship, and you just so badly want to say something back or kiss him, those don’t happen either. You’re friends and that’s it. Friendship is safer, it won’t end in your heart broken, and a little bit of Tom in that way is better than all of him romantically. You’ll settle for loving him softly and quietly, like a friend would, and you ignore the way your chest hurts like you’ve just lost the love of your life as you fall asleep that night.

Tom is left outside of your door, stunned at all that has happened. You are hurt, alone and without your best friend and the fact that he is the cause of it is what hurts him the most. He may have had a few drinks (and barely slept that night), he remembers it vividly. He doesn’t for a moment question the authenticity of his memories when you pretend like nothing happened the next day.

Taglist: @averyfosterthoughts @martinafigoli

#emi writes #tom holland #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland writing #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #the one (aato)#tw: abuse mention #tw: ptsd

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