#i am so awful at making conversation with strangers in ENGLISH how am i supposed to do that with strangers in FRENCH

[supercantaloupe]

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

[winterpinetrees]

Today on tumblr, winterpinetrees attempts to juggle four characters in a conversation. (the gap years part 3)

June 10th 2019

San Francisco 

Clay knows proper gun safety. He knows how to safely navigate a lot of things. He’s pointed the barrel of his sleek science fiction rifle at the ground and his finger is off the trigger. He is the reason why Sierra didn’t get caught stealing batteries from one of her father’s R&D labs and why Brian didn’t get mauled by a bear back in Sophomore year. He has a first-aid kit and a satellite phone and has spent the last four years getting ready to run. So no, Clay isn’t particularly distressed that he probably just killed a man. 

“Did we just kill that guy!” Sierra yells. They did. The armor on the soldier’s back crumpled like it was hit by a cannonball. Well, Brian and Clay did. He didn’t do much. 

Brian crouches down and rolls the soldier over. There’s a fresh cut on his chest that’s staining his shirt red with a worrying amount of blood. “I-I think he’s dead.”

Sierra ignores him and wheels around at their acquaintance. “You’re an elf, aren’t you?” 

Not-Martin leans against his quarterstaff. He has long ears and glowing eyes, but he doesn’t seem majestic or otherworldly. Clay noticed how confident he was back at the cafe, but that can just be a symptom of growing up rich. Maybe it’s just that the boy is wearing tan cargo pants and a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off that’s getting in the way of any awe.  “Yes, we call ourselves elves. Well, that’s the current English translation.” 

Brian looks up at Sierra “How the hell do you know anything about this.”

“Not important right now! Ten years ago, a top-secret laboratory in the Nevada desert was destroyed by a whole crew of glowing people wearing armor like that. The one in charge glowed green and kept teleporting or whatever the hell you were doing! I want to know what you are doing here, who just tried to kill us, and why we thought we knew you.”

Clay sits by the head of the soldier. He finds a few latches and manages to pull off their helmet. The face underneath looks male and about forty, with dark skin and features that Clay can’t easily categorize. He isn’t prepared for its empty, half-open eyes. He tries to keep his voice steady. “Sierra, don’t threaten him.” 

The elf smiles, but it’s too wide and a bit strained. “It’s alright. My name is Prince Marin Sondaica. The leader of the attack in the desert was my mother, although, according to those soldiers, she’s been murdered.” His ears twitch downward. Oh yeah. He’s definitely not okay. “You thought that you knew me because I knew you’d never speak with a random stranger. I’d been watching you three for a while. I thought you were interesting.”

Immediate outrage.  

Clay recovers first. He’s going to ignore the stalking for a minute and take this one step at a time. “You didn’t answer the question about the soldiers. What did they say to you?”

Marin hesitates a bit. Lying or just emotional? “They told me that there had been a coup. My parents were dead, and he was going to kill me as well. Elves don’t kill eachother while invisible. It’s not respectful”. He pauses. “If they’ve gotten bold enough to attack in public, then things are happening more quickly than we expected.”

Sierra puts her head in her hands. “You are so bad at giving exposition. What is happening quickly?” 

Marin walks over to the side of the body. He retrieves his strange tardis bag and stares down at the soldier's face. “Global conquest is happening quickly. My family didn’t want to take over your world, but I guess the people got tired of waiting. The elven world… it is like Romeo and Juliet, except the two familes are far more powerful. I am a Sondaica, they work for the Mercuralis. The coup replaced my mother with a leader that would make war. You probably have a year or two before anything changes, but not much more.” 

Clay honestly thinks that wouldn’t be so bad. “And how do we play into this?”

“You were never supposed to. I thought you three were interesting and I wanted to meet you. But then we were ambushed. That soldier was a nobleman. They’re not going to forget about this”. The elf looks down at Clay. “I’m sorry. I thought they would let you go when you ran. Now it’s too late”. 

“So what, we’re just supposed to let you walk away and accept that we’re dead?” Brian asks. His face is red with anger, which is good, because it means that he hasn’t lost too much blood. “We’re geniuses and crazy rich. We’re going on this road trip already, why can’t you come with us? We’ll have a better chance of survival together, and you’re a prince! If your house-“

“Genus”

“If your genus controls half the world, then you’ve got to have allies. Coups are always complicated. If there’s half a chance that you can get your throne back and stop the Mercuralis from taking over the world, we have to try!” He rises up to his full height, which is a good half a foot taller than Marin. 

“Wait, Brian, are you seriously saying that we go off on a quest to save the world?” He’s smiling a bit.

“I’d rather die fighting. At least like this we have a chance.” 

Clay sits back on his heels. This was all typical Brian behavior, really. “We graduated high school last week. We have a fancy car and a lot of money, but that isn’t enough to overthrow a government. This isn’t Star Wars. Four people and a vehicle can’t defeat an entire empire”.

The elf stared down at him, but now it felt metaphorical instead of just physical. “You killed a nobleman, Clay Shepard. They are not going to forgive you.” 

“I killed a nobleman in self-defense after being brainwashed by a renegade prince into traveling with him. We can walk away from this if we want to, and I’m not going to risk my life for you if you keep being this vague.” He glared at Marin. “How can I know that you aren’t using your magic on me right now?”

Marin shrugs off his question. “Mind control doesn’t last. You’d just hate me later. The truth is, I don’t want to die. You three are uniquely capable of keeping me alive, but only if you do it of your own free will”.

Clay isn’t going to die for a maybe-elf that he knows next to nothing about, but he does need his friends. He knows that Brian wis a golden retriever of a man who already bonded with their new friend. He knows that Sierra would never pass up a chance to see real magic, and that the entire idea for a road trip began with her. Either he helped his friends and they all died together, or he went home alone. Or he went back home and hoped that powerful people would ignore him. 

“Fine. I’m in. Are we still going to Redwoods?”

..........

next time, Ishtar, Ryn, and their council discuss some problems.

@caliburn-the-sword @lokiwaffles hi! You rock and I think about you a lot! Thanks for stopping by.

[jaybird-redhood]

propinquity

wc: 2.2k

pairing: jason todd // gn reader

The first thing you think when you see him for the first time is that he has the cutest smile.

That’s a lie, the first thing you think it that he is so incredibly in shape, and it looks great on him, but the smile thing sounds better in your head.

He's moving into the apartment across from yours a month after you moved into yours. Weird, because the two people in your building closest to your age are 2 and 63, respectively.

You suppose that some wicked twist of fate must’ve brought this upon you for missing your cousin’s birthday party last week, because the guy standing across from you is crazy hot. And looking right at you. And you are in the huge neon Wonder Woman t-shirt that your best friend got for your birthday last year.

Yeah. Karma.

“Nice shirt,” the guy offers, holding in a grin. “You’re really making it work.”

“I-”

“See you around, neighbor.”

And with a shut of a door and an awfully charismatic smirk he’s gone.

The next time you see him is a week later, and this time- luckily, you think- you’re dressed somewhat put together. You run into him while unlocking your door.

"What's got you in a twist?" he asks.

"Um," you start, "I just. Ugh I have so much to do. Like 3 hours of homework, a lecture tomorrow that I cannot skip, and I'm completely out of bread and eggs and can't even you to the store until, like, Thursday at best."

Once you start rambling you can't seem to stop. You slouch against your door. You're not entirely sure why you're telling a stranger all this, but he seems to be listening, so you suppose that’s a good sign

"I get the feeling," he offers, and you look up at him. "I'm majoring in English Lit and my classes are kind of kicking my ass."

You give him a small smile, "Glad to know someone in this building is struggling as much as I am."

"Jason," he says, and he reaches his hand out to you. "My name."

You shake it and tell him yours.

As you both turn back into your respective apartments you think that he maybe isn't as intimidating as you thought.

~

The next day goes by with a really boring lecture and another 3 hours of work you need to do.

The ride home from uni isn't that long, but it's long enough for you to contemplate all the ways that your life went wrong after moving to Gotham. And, maybe as payback for thinking mean things about the city, rain that you think should belong to a category 3 hurricane starts to whip around your car 10 minutes into your drive.

Your clothes are dripping water in literal puddles by the time you get back to your apartment.

Groaning, you start fishing for your keys in your purse while walking up the last flight of stairs.

When you get to your door you stop. Right in front of it there’s a grocery bag. Picking it up and looking inside you see a loaf of bread and a small carton of milk.

You pick it up smiling.

“Jason?” you ask, knocking on his door.

No response.

You shrug and turn around. Remember to thank him the next time you run into each other; you think.

~

That next time doesn’t happen to be that long and thank goodness for you.

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this,” he says to you.

You’re sitting on the floor outside of your door looking rather pathetic, and he’s giving you the most awful smirk you’ve ever seen. (Not that it looks bad on him though. You seem to think that nothing could really look that bad on him)

“I swear I’m usually more put together than this,” you sigh to him. “You moving here jinxed me!”

“Yeah yeah. You’re locked out, aren’t you?”

You give him your best withering I’m going to kill you stare, but it must not be working because he just laughs even harder at you.

“This is completely not my fault it’s just I lost my second set of keys like right when I moved in and then today when I got home, I accidentally left them in my car, but my second set of car keys is in my apartment so now I can’t get them out, stop laughing at me!”

“God you’re a mess,” Jason says- finally finished laughing at you and maybe taking a bit of pity on how disheveled you look. “You couldn’t call anyone to get you in?”

You shake your head.

“My friend is the only other person with a set, but they’re out of town, and our landlord is being a dick and telling me it’s my fault in the first place, so I need to deal with it. I’ve been sitting out here for like an hour.”

“All I’m hearing is that it is your fault and now you’re just moping about it feeling bad about yourself.”

You tilt your head against the door so hard that it makes you wince a bit.

“Ok fine,” he says crossing his arms.

“What?”

“Wait right here.”

He goes into his apartment and comes back out with a skinny metal thing you don’t recognize.

You look at him in confusion and he just motions for you to scoot out of the way as he sticks it in your locks and starts to pick it.

You sigh in relief.

“Thank you thank you thank you. For everything. I swear I will get my life together, so you don’t feel like you have to keep cleaning up my messes.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a small smile, “Take your time.”

And with that he opens the door to your apartment and turns back to his.

“By the way, you should really get better locks. That was way too easy.”

You make a note in your head to get that done sometime. As you’re lying on your couch that night, you’re AirDropped a photo on your phone. Saving it up you see it’s a piece of paper with neat handwriting on it: a phone number and a smiley face, Jason’s name at the bottom.

You smile too and add the number to your contacts.

~

Over the next few weeks, you and Jason start talking more, both over text and through the various times when you run into each other outside your doors.

Each interaction is better than the next, and you soon start to realize that Jason isn’t just some hot guy with no brains. He’s sweet and charismatic, has a whole wall full of bookshelves, could probably quote any classical novel by heart, has incredibly good taste in music, and best (or worst) of all, would make incredible friend material.

It’s just that as you become closer friends, you start to realize that that might not be all you want.

It’s a stupidly cold Friday morning when he texts you, and you’re covered in blankets and wrapped in sweatshirts in your bed. Movie at my place tonight?

You text back your approval and a quick be there at 6 before getting ready for classes.

The day goes by slower than you hoped.

It might be the anticipation of seeing Jason again, or more likely the hours of lectures you have to sit through, but you’re elated when your final class for the day gets let out.

The hours in between are a blur.

A blur which leads to the two of you sitting on his couch watching Romeo and Juliet together, a blanket thrown over your bodies.

You have the obligatory bowl of popcorn resting on your legs, and every few minutes Jason reaches across your lap to take a handful.

The way you’re laying half on top on him is completely deliberate, as to take as much of his body heat as possible. Your landlord had turned off heating 3 weeks prior to ‘save money’ or some other bullshit.

Jason’s not complaining though.

Once your popcorn bowl is finished and your head is in his lap, he runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly. It might be the nicest feeling you’ve ever felt.

Throughout the movie you exchange snide comments about the plot back and forth. You start trying to say funny things whenever you can just to hear how sweet his laugh sounds to your ears.

By the end of the movie, you’re only slightly in tears, or so you tell yourself.

“Are you crying right now?” Jason asks incredulously, wearing a teasing smile.

“It’s not my fault,” you half say half moan, “Leonardo DiCaprio just has that effect on me.”

He just laughs and pulls you upright until you’re sitting on his lap.

His eyes are a shade of blue green that you’ve never seen before, although you could swear their getting greener by the second.

You watch his gaze drop down to your lips before staring you right in the eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God yes,” you tell him, and kiss him right back.

~

The next week is somewhat uneventful, even though you and Jason had been meeting each other almost every night, rotating apartments based on whose house was warmer each particular night.

Tonight is your night, and you’ve been waiting the whole day to show him the film you had rented to watch together.

The walk up to your door is easier than usual, and you have a bounce in your step that’s making you feel even more elated than normal taking out your keys to unlock your apartment.

You open your door and your bag drops. The keys clatter when they hit the hardwood, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

There Jason is, bleeding quite profusely, and using your kitchen counter to keep himself vertical. He’s wearing what looks to be a torn half of a domino mask and an extremely hot leather jacket.

(Not that this was the time for noticing his fashion choices, but you filed that thought away for later.)

What really catches your eye though is the huge red bat symbol on his chest, and the red helmet next to it sitting on your counter.

He shifts a little to the side before stumbling through saying, “Um, so, I know this isn’t ideal and I’m really sorry to put you in this situation, but I seriously do not feel like bleeding out tonight and-”

“Oh my god this is great,” you cut him off with. “I thought you were a hit-man!”

“Wait what.”

“Shit no that’s not what I meant- kind of, hang on we should probably stop you from dying before having this conversation.”

You walk over to him to get a better look at his wounds.

“God Jace, you look like death warmed over.”

He just stares at you.

“You have a bunch of stuff in your bathroom, right?”

At least this elicits a reaction. He grimaces in pain but gives you a nod of his head in conformation.

“Ok I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

He gives you a look that says seriously, where would I go.

3 minutes later you’re back with a needle and thread, and some sterilizing spray.

“This should be fine,” you tell him, “I took a first aid class last year with my friends and passed with flying colors according to the nurse.”

“Just try to keep them tight and neat. I trust you,” he says, and your heart pounds just a little harder.

You respond with a nervous laugh but take a deep breath and start working.

~

An hour and a half later you’re done.

The combination of pain meds, bandages, and a whole lot of stitches eventually led to you and Jason laying in your bed together, both completely exhausted.

He turns his head to face you.

“Could we maybe go back to the hit-man thing?”

“Oh uh. Well I saw a bunch of shirts covered in blood in your laundry in the bathroom, not to mention all the weirdly specific first-aid you had,” you tell him.

“And also the assorted guns and knives you have hidden all over. I guess I just assumed? But the whole Red Hood thing is so much better,” you reassure him.

“You found all my knives?”

You smile up at him.

“I love that that’s thing you chose to focus on.”

“And you’re really not mad that I didn’t tell you about the whole vigilante thing before?” he asks.

“Jay, I had already resigned myself to life forever with some shady hit-man that also happened to be incredibly good looking. Red Hood is ten times better than that. I’m not going to run away from you just because you’re incredibly intimidating and probably could kill me. I see that as an added bonus,” you say, with as much charm as you can muster without yawning.

“Just. Be careful, ok? I’d hate to make this a routine.”

He responds by pulling you closer to his body.

“I promise,” he whispers into your head. “You really to remember to get better locks by the way, breaking in was still way too easy.”

You let out a small laugh and finally you let yourself give into sleep.

[fandomlovingfreak]

Summoned

Chapter 1: Summoned

Sebastian de Poitiers x OC

Rating: E for everyone

Word Count: 1661

MasterList Link I Wattpad Link I AO3

Summary: Summoned, to bid to come : send for

When a letter is received from an old friend summoning her for an unspoken favor, Isobel must set sail from her father's home in Scotland, unsure if she will ever see the shores of the country she loves, ever again. French Court, something whispered about by her and her friends as young girls seem frightening to Isobel. Yet, destiny awaits her in Mary's secret favor.

Disclaimer: The characterizations of characters from Reign (based on historical figures) are all the property of the CW Historical Romance show, Reign created by Laurie McCarthy and Stephanie SenGupta (these characters include but are not limited to Sebastian de Poitiers, King Francis, Mary Queen of Scots). This work has not been created for profit or financial compensations, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

CW nor the creators of Reign do not own my original character Isobel.

Notes: I’ve been reworking this fic for a while. I hope to bring it to life as I’ve quite literally been writing it off and on since 2019!

Enjoy

Dear Isobel,

I would like to be summoning you under different circumstances, but I find myself needing you at this hour. I cannot disclose too much information within this letter, as we are still uncertain whether or not the English are intercepting our letters, but I beg you to make haste.

I await your arrival at French Court.

Your friend,

Mary Queen of Scots

 I've read and re-read the letter from my dear friend at least two dozen times since departing from the shores of Scotland. Reading was a wonderful escape from the thoughts that I may never see these shores again, something my father had drilled into my head a thousand times before I left. He was certain I'd find a match in France, hopeful that the Queen of Scotland was arranging the details as I traveled.

I myself am nervous about the implications of the letter... of the summoning from Mary. Where my father saw hope, I saw dread-- or at least unexpected news.

But she spoke of something important, and I couldn't just ignore her pleads to come to her Court. Last I'd heard, she'd married her long-awaited fiance, Francis, and gone on a long honeymoon tour. What on earth would have her summoning me of all people at this moment?

***

Everything is splendid

I think to myself as I look around the halls of the castle. The people are even dressed splendidly. 

I am greeted by my old friends Kenna, Greer, and Lola, who all talk animatedly about my arrival before I am hurried off to Mary's bed-chamber for the purpose of my summoning. 

She greets me just as our other friends had, warmly, with smiles and small talk. I did miss her, more than I originally thought I did, as I see she's become more Queenly than ever before. Technically, I suppose, she was more a Queen than ever now that she and her husband had officially been crowned King and Queen of France.

"Come sit, please." Mary situates us by a glowing fire, asking if I'd like a refreshment of any sort. I decline, feeling I can't wait another moment. I must know why I am in France.

Mary looks down at her hands, suddenly looking as if she'd rather not be doing this, "Yes, well. I must ask you to do something I feel uneasy asking of you--"

I take Mary's hand in mine, "what is it?" Her tone is almost unreadable, but her eyes tell me I should be nervous.

Mary takes a deep breath of air, "I must ask you to stay here in France and-- marry Francis's brother, Sebastian de Poitiers."

I feel the color drain from my cheeks, "Marry--?"

My Queen has the decency to look embarrassed as she searches for words, "Francis's half-brother."

"The late King's bastard son? That Sebastian? Mary, I don't understand--"

"I know that-- I know how your father would react, will react if you agree to help me, but please listen to me, Isobel. I have good reason to ask for your help." After a moment, I nod, urging her to tell me the point of this-- suggestion.

"I'm not sure what you've heard about my past year in the French court, so I'll start from the beginning." I listen to her retell the problems they've had. The Queen Mother's meddling, the prophecy of Francis's death if he married Mary, the ploy to get Sebastian legitimized by the Vatican. All of the details are poured out for me to better understand Mary's odd request.

"I don't understand how you could have even-- I mean, Mary. He's the King's bastard. Your mother would have never allowed it..."

"And she fought it and won. I know that it seems crazy, but I love Francis. I would do anything to keep him from death, even marry a man I--" she flushes. I can see there were feelings even if she chose one brother over the other. 

"Oh, Mary..."

Mary sighs, "I know it's a lot to ask of you, Isobel, but Sebastian is my friend, and it's the only way Francis will feel... he can let Sebastian stay in court-- if he's married and settled down with his own wife."

I look down at my hands, embarrassed to be asking such a question, "How would this affect me in court, Mary?" How can I turn down my Queen's requests, though? I have to do what is right for the country, even if the country she's asking me for aid from is her husband's.

"Francis has agreed to give Sebastian a title, a small one but a title nonetheless, and an estate that will be available if you wish to escape French Court for a time during each year. Bash is a bastard, but that won't destroy you under Francis's care."

"And has Sebastian agreed to this?" 

Mary hesitates, "He has not." I thought as much, "but it's the only option for him. He'll see reason. Sebastian is very reasonable, Isobel. That's one of the reasons why I thought of you when this predicament came up. I often think he is a reflection of you in ways."

My father's potential thoughts and opinions plague my mind, keeping me silent as she waits for my answer.

"I know I'm asking a lot of you, Isobel." Silence chokes out the conversation.

"Can I think it over, Mary?"

"Yes. If you need me to, I will send your father's word. I'll tell him it was for the good of the alliance between Scotland and France. Anything you need, Isobel." Her hand grasps mine, pleading with me.

With a nod, I agree to be quick with my answer. 

***

The halls are near empty as I walk slowly towards the room prepared for me by my dearest friends Kenna, Lola, and Greer.

Worries come in and out of my brain rapidly. I fear for the fall in my reputation, then feel awful for thinking of another so lowly. Sebastian could very much be a wonderful man, and I'm sure he is if Mary held such a high opinion of him. She wouldn't have entertained marriage with a man if she did not believe him to be a truly wonderful person, I'm certain of it. But, that did not change the fact that he existed somewhat outside of polite company.

Sitting on the large bed, I fold my hands tightly on my lap in worry. If I agree to marry, I will be directly aiding my Queen and helping create peace within both of our countries. Francis was technically now the King of Scotland. On the other hand, I would be marrying someone I don't know, which frightens me. Not to mention I will someday have to face my family, who may blame me for pulling them down with me if all of this backfires and I become some sort of social pariah.

Feeling thoroughly exhausted by all of this thinking, I flop back onto the bed.

In the end, I do trust Mary. I don't believe that she would purposefully lead me astray, and she seemed genuine and confident that Sebastian and I could be a match. A good one at that.

**

With newly found resolve, I wake early and dress before making my way to Mary's bed-chamber. I need to-- before I chicken out and run home to my father. I can be brave.

"Isobel," Mary's voice is full of surprise, "is something the matter?" She takes a few steps towards me

"I've thought it over, Mary," I take a large calming breath, sealing my fate, "I will marry him."

She stands looking at me for a beat before taking a few steps to embrace me, "Thank you, Isobel. Thank you. You can't understand how grateful I am." She pulls back, looking deadly serious, "I promise you that I personally will send word to your father and make him know this was my doing. You will receive no backlash; you have been kind and selfless. I promise you that you will be taken care of under both the Scottish and French crowns."

I smile, pulling her back into a hug, "Thank you, Mary."

"Don't thank me at all. You are doing an enormous, insane favor for me."

"I trust you, you know that? I don't believe you would let me marry someone horrible."

"He isn't! Sebastian is wonderful. He's thoughtful and kind, a little pigheaded, but what man isn't a bit stubborn?" I laugh at her words. "And think of this! You and I shall be related by marriage."

I smile kindly, not wanting to burst her bubble... In many's views, a bastard, even one close to his half-siblings, is not a true sibling.

***

Sebastian looks between Mary and his half-brother, "you can't be serious."

Francis's eyes hold that hatred. The one reserved specifically for Sebastian that has developed since Mary came to Court.

"It's the only solution, Sebastian. I will never feel comfortable with your return to Court-- living near my wife if you remain a bachelor."

He snorts at the ridiculousness of the idea, "If I agree to marry a complete stranger, you will somehow gain comfort?" The venom in his voice pulses through each syllable.

Unluckily, Francis matches his frustration, his tone turning just as icy, "You will be too preoccupied with your own wife and new station to continue lusting over my wife. Your Queen." Mary looks at her husband with concern, a look he used to be on the receiving end of. Sebastian looks away with disgust... no sadness. Some vile emotion that he detests feeling.

"Please, Bash," Mary tries to soothe the pain, "Isobel has agreed. She's wonderful. She will make an excellent wife for you."

Sebastian sighs, running his fingers through his hair, "Can I meet her first? I would like to meet her before you force us to marry, please."

Mary and Francis look between each other. 

"I can arrange that."

[slowly-writing]

More Than Okay

Natasha Romanoff x Teen!Reader

Word count: 1.8K

Requested by anons:

- Can I request a Nat x kid!reader where the kid was in foster care and She just recently went to live with Natasha. And it’s taking her a while to warm up but eventually starts calling Nat, mom? Thank you.

- ooh can I request a nat x (adopted)daughter reader where the reader is the kid of a couple that was killed off by a villain because of their powers. avengers and reader don’t know she has powers mostly because they’ve never shown. they finally find out when said villain comes back for reader by attacking avengers and her powers burst out of her unexpectedly and she saves them all?? thinking something of a mix between Wanda’s and Thor’s powers. thank you, love your writing so much!!

- Nat's daughter telling her she doesn't wanna be a shield agent/superhero.

Your parents didn’t work for the avengers but they were avenger-adjacent. They worked with them on multiple occasions. Your parents had powers and they fought to keep the city safe as best they could. They just hid their identities and stayed out of the public eye as much as possible while doing it. They had a child after all, and their main priority was keeping you safe. Unfortunately no secret ever stays hidden forever.

You remember that night vividly. You had woken up in the middle of the night, your throat was so dry that it was hard to breathe. You quietly made your way downstairs to the kitchen, not wanting to wake your parents, but what you saw still haunts you to this day. There were dozens of men in masks fighting with your parents. The walls were broken and crumbling around you, you feared the entire house would collapse soon.

“Y/n, run!” Your father screamed. You hesitated for a split second, wanting to stay to help but you knew there was nothing you could do. They were the ones with powers and they were clearly losing. If their last wish was to keep you safe you’d grant them that, no matter how much you’d rather stay with them and share their fate.

You ran, forgoing about the door and slipping through a crack in the wall. You looked over your shoulder, relieved to see that nobody was following you. Instead you saw a sword pierce your mother’s chest. To this day you could still hear her cries of pain, but she didn’t look scared. She had simply nodded to you, a clear side she wanted you to keep going. So you did, until you got to the one place you knew was safe.

xxxxx

When you arrived at the avengers compound hours later you were exhausted and you knew you looked awful. The sun was starting to rise, showing the tear tracks cutting through the blood and dirt from various falls, your still bare feet cut and bruised, and your pajamas torn in various places. Steve was the first to see you, as he was up first for an early run. He didn’t say anything, simply brought you inside and led you to the common room. He walked off as you sat on the couch, glancing around the room you’d only seen a handful of times when visiting with your parents. You felt tears well up in your eyes again at the thought of them. You stared down at your hands in your lap, not wanting to see the room full of memories.

When Steve returns he has a first aid kit and Natasha in tow. She knows you the best out of any of the avengers, having been close with your parents.

“Hey, do you wanna talk about what happened?” Natasha's voice is soft and comforting which gives you the courage to look up, as soon as she sees the tears she knows whatever happened was nothing good. You shake your head and she pulls you into her arms. “That’s alright. We don’t have to talk right now. Is it okay if Steve and I clean you up? You’ve got some pretty nasty cuts,” she waits for your nod before motioning for Steve to pass her the first aid kit.

xxxxx

That had been over a year ago and things were still rocky. Tony has given you a room in the compound and that’s where you spent most of your time. While all the avengers cared for you, and you for them, you rarely opened up to them. The events that happened were the worst memories you had, and you didn’t want to share the most painful parts of your life with people who were practically strangers. You’d send a small smile in Peter’s direction at school and sit in on movie nights, but heart to hearts were unheard of amongst the majority of the team. You were content to be the quiet girl nobody truly knew. Well nobody aside from Natasha. You had a few conversations with her and you’ve unpacked the whole event with your therapist, but nobody else knows the details of what happened that night, and you planned to keep it that way.

“Hey y/n, wanna go shopping with us?” Clint asks you as you walk through the kitchen after school.

“No thank you,” your response is quiet and he nods, having expected as much. He always makes an effort though.

“Alright, have a good afternoon.” With that he leaves the kitchen and you head towards the living room. Bruce and Tony are on a mission and Steve always joins Clint to go grocery shopping, it’s the only way to make sure we have more than junk food. That only leaves you and Natasha in the compound so you don’t feel the need to hide.  

You sit on the floor by the coffee table, pulling out your homework with a sigh. You’re debating if you want to get your chemistry over with or get some work done on your creative writing story when you hear Natasha entering the room.

“How was school?” Her voice comforts you. It’s calming. Drastically different from the bickering and teasing the boys normally throw around.

“It was fine,” you say simply, turning around to face her as she sits on the couch behind you. Anyone else would’ve taken your short response as a sign that you didn’t want to be talking to them, that’s probably why Natasha was the only one you talked to. While Steve was technically your legal guardian you only had brief interactions with him. They never told you for sure, but you’re pretty sure the only reason it wasn’t Natasha was because she’s in America on sketchy terms and some of her missions prior to her days as an avenger could probably be classified as treason. It was best to keep her out of the mandatory background check that came with fostering a kid. You didn’t need anybody else digging into her past.

“Still dreading that chemistry homework I see,” you follow her gaze to where your textbook is pushed away and you laugh a bit.

“It’s so hard. And I don’t need it anyways! I want to be an English teacher. I don’t need to know chemistry,” you tell her and it’s her turn to laugh and place an arm around your shoulder as you flop on the couch next to her.

“You’re right, you don’t need it to teach English. But you do need it to graduate high school so you have to do it eventually. If you need help Tony will be home tomorrow, and I think Peter is coming over tonight to do some training. He’d be more than happy to help and it’d be good for you to talk to him. Remember what Dr. Tan said-“

“I need to have more interactions with people my own age. I know,” you cut her off, “But how am I even supposed to start that conversation? ‘Hi I’m Y/n- oh you already know that?-oh because I’m Stingray and Rogue’s daughter and their identities got leaked after their murder, right. Yeah I’m super sad they died too.’ Sounds like a delightful conversation to have.”

“I know it’s hard y/n, but Peter is a good place to start. He’s plenty different too and he’s not going to judge you for it,” Natasha’s argument makes sense but before you can respond you hear a crash from the kitchen and you’re grateful for the distraction.

“Is Clint back already?” You ask, pulling away from Natasha and walking towards the kitchen. You freeze in the doorway, seeing the people that have haunted your nightmares for over a year now.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” Natasha calls but before she gets to you the closest figure charges. You duck out of the way and Natasha takes him out. She starts fighting the men but she’s beyond outnumbered. You’re frantically looking around for somebody to help, but it’s just the two of you. When you look back you see a man charging her with a sword, just like last year.

“Mom, look out!” you scream as you flail your arm in the attacker’s direction. Before Natasha can try to dodge him he’s thrown back and he’s seizing. You glance at your hands seeing a mist sparking with electricity surrounding your fingers. You don’t have time to overthink it as all the intruders’ attention turns to you. You zero in on the closest one and send a pulse of electricity in his direction. You repeat the process until they’re all on the floor. At that moment shield agents and the rest of the team come flooding in, FRIDAY having notified them of the break in.

“Holy shit,” Clint says and you look between him and your hands, eyes wide in fear.

“Did you do that?” Steve asks and you swallow hard before nodding. “You could be a good addition to the team.”

“You really could. Pulse you’re a legacy, what with your parents and everything,” an agent says and your breathing starts to speed up. Everything's happening so fast. There’s too much and you’re starting to spiral. You’re about to run when Natasha steps in front of you.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more quiet, okay?” she offers and you nod, desperate for an escape. You both walk in silence until you’re in your room and sitting next to each other on the bed. “Did you know you could do that?”

“No! I swear I didn’t. I would’ve told you, I promise I-”

“Hey,” Natasha cuts off your rambling, placing a calming hand on your shoulder. “I’m not mad. I just want us to get on the same page. We need to figure out what this means and start training you.”

“I don’t want to be an agent,” you say bluntly. “I’m sorry. I know I should want to help people. It's the right thing to do, it’s what my parents would want me to do but I just can’t”

“That’s fine. You don't owe anyone anything and if you don’t want to use your powers then that’s okay. We do need to do some training though. Just to make sure you’re in control of them, but we don’t have to tell anyone outside of the team if you don’t want to,” Natasha promises and you nod, throwing yourself into her arms as you sigh in relief.

“Thank you,” you whisper and you feel her sigh this time.

“There’s one more thing. You called me mom in there. I know that was all probably really mentally draining and I have no idea what kind of memories it triggered. I know it was an accident but-” it’s your turn to cut her off.

“It wasn’t an accident. I know you’re not legally my mom, but you’re the one who stepped up. I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened to me if you weren’t there. I get it if it’s not okay with you, but I think of you as my mom,” you explain, wringing your hands as you wait for her response.

“It’s more than okay with me,” Natasha tells you, placing a hand over yours.

Tag List: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff

[cant-think-of-anything]

Pirate AU (Part Three)

Cordelia and Alastair stood outside a small café, her hat dipped low to hide her face. Lucie had told her that she was bringing her cousin, so she thought it only fair to drag her brother along as well. Alastair seemed apprehensive, claiming Eugenia was already watchful of them but Cordelia countered by saying this could be a way to prove their innocence. 

The problem with waiting outside in London though was that it was pouring. Constantly. 

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” Alastair said, scowling as he shook rain soaked dark hair from his eyes. 

“A few hours of being social will not kill you dadash.”

His eyebrows raised at the use of their native language. They spoke a mixture of English and Persian when they were at home, but using it anywhere else elicited dirty stares that made Cordelia want to stab something with Cortana. Alastair looked as if he was going to say something but a strong blow of icy water into their faces before he had the chance. 

Before Cordelia could contemplate unanchoring their ship and sailing somewhere warmer, she heard her name being called. Lucie and the presumed Eugenia Lightwood were hurrying towards them, umbrellas nearly being blown out of their hands. Cordelia propped the door open for them, offering a smile to Lucie who’s eyes were bright from the wind instead of tears. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Lucie said in an overjoyed whisper, a complete contrast to the last time they had spoken, though Cordelia suspected it was a front. Lucie’s cheerfulness was most definitely a pretense but Cordelia understood why she had it in place. “ Eugenia desperately needs a distraction and as do I.” 

Cordelia smiled, enjoying Lucie’s happiness as she watched Alastair and Eugenia have a sort of staring competition. “I had to drag Alas- my brother here. He isn’t fond of social outings.”

“So,” Eugenia said smoothly when they were seated, “Your brother here is rather good at slipping out of conversations isn’t he?” 

Alastair scowled as he usually did, as if he was trying to kill someone by looking at them. “Cornering new arrivals is something you do often then?”  

“What tea do you want!” Cordelia cut in brightly, waving the menu in their face. 

“Black.” They responded in unison, their glares intensifying. 

“Will Thomas be joining us?” Lucie asked her eyes darting between the two as if she either wanted to laugh or flee. 

At that Eugenia’s eyes went soft and worried. “He hasn’t returned home yet. He isn’t usually the reckless type but-” She cut herself off. 

“Who’s Thomas?” Cordelia asked gently, trying not to overstep. She felt Alastair lean forward as if he was interested in the answer as well. 

“My brother. He saw the note and took off.” 

“Note?”

Eugenia looked between Cordelia and Lucie, confusion clouding her face. “Lucie didn’t tell you? I thought the two of you were- oh. Well there was a note left in the Institute, by the killer,” Her voice hitched on that word, “or some cruel person who wants to make our lives more hellish.” 

“What did the note say?” Alastair asked, his voice low. 

Eugenia shrugged and pulled a paper from her pocket, sliding it across the table. Cordelia inhaled sharply and felt Alastair’s arm tense before she had the chance to read what the note said. The symbol at the bottom. She had seen it before. A crude jagged line that had been carved into numerous wrecked ships around the ocean. She’d watched those ships fall. 

As for who it belonged to, that was a mystery. 

Cordelia was getting tired of mysteries. 

Lucie, who had been watching Cordelia with a confused expression, stood up suddenly and grabbed her hand. 

“I- what?” Cordelia stammered, horror and confusion hazing her mind. 

“I think we have matters to discuss. 

Pulling Cordelia away from the table, she led the two of them into a dim hallway before whirling around, her cheeks faintly pink. 

“You’re lying to us aren’t you?” 

Cordelia drew back sharply, which seemed to give Lucie all the confirmation she needed. 

“You are,” She murmured. “Tell me it wasn’t you? You didn’t do this to my cousin?” 

“No-Goodness, Lucie no.” 

“You’re lying about something. How did you get on the guest list? Who are you? Did you have something to do with Barbra?” 

“I didn’t have anything to do with her, I swear it.” At Lucie’s intense stare she felt her resolve crumble a bit. 

“You need to prove it. Please.” 

Cordelia looked at Lucie again, her blue eyes were blazing. She told herself that this was an awful idea, that she had only known Lucie for one afternoon. She felt an odd sort of connection to her, that much was true, but was that really enough? Perhaps if she denied Lucie the truth then she would go to her parents, incriminating them even more. Cordelia knew all it took to get her imprisoned was a word claiming her guilt. 

Cordelia let out a soft sigh of defeat and lowered her voice. “I might have to show you. You wouldn’t believe it otherwise.” 

~~~

Alastair wondered what demon had possessed his sister to have made her sit alone at a table with Eugenia. He determinedly stared at the wall, praying she wouldn’t attempt at small talk. Not that she seemed like the type. 

“Why did you react that way?”

Alastair startled. “What?” 

“When I gave you the note you and your sister looked as if someone slapped you.” 

He internally cursed himself for allowing such a see-through expression, but he truly hadn’t been expecting it. It meant that the killer they were dealing with was a pirate, more than that, a pirate that belonged to one of the most dangerous crews known. 

“It was a startling note then,” He grumbled, casting a backwards glance at Cordelia who didn’t look anywhere near done talking. 

“The writing was too small for you to have read it that quickly.”

Privately, he was surprised that she noticed so much. It would be admirable if it wasn’t so aggravating.

“We aren’t responsible for what happened at the party,” he snapped instead. 

“I’m aware. I don’t believe you’re guilty, but I do believe that there’s something important you’re keeping from us.” 

“Of course. We’re strangers.” 

Eugenia rolled her eyes and leaned forward. “I don’t want your snark. I want your help.” 

Before Alastair could respond or even process what she said, Cordelia and Lucie arrived back at the table. 

“Am I to tell Eugenia?” Lucie asked. 

“Tell her what exactly?” Alastair muttered to Cordelia, who had a somewhat sheepish look on her face. 

“So Alastair do you have skulls on your masts?” Lucie chirped happily, taking a sip of her tea. “Eye patches? Maybe a peg leg?”

“Cordelia!”

The note lay forgotten between them as the siblings bickering took the attention. It’s words were scribbled in a suspicious red that grew darker the longer you looked. 

Your families have wronged mine in ways you couldn’t imagine. Vengeance must be taken and vengeance is often taken out on innocent people isn't it? Don’t assume that this is over. 

~~~

Kamala knelt in front of the telescope, her dark hair fluttering uncomfortably in the soft sea winds. The barely discernible block of land known as London lay little ways away. She plucked a quill from where it rested in it’s inkwell charting the estimated distance of her journey. She was something of a self proclaimed sailing master, charged by Tatiana to travel the seas in her name. It wasn’t a pleasant job exactly, but the pay was good. 

She absentmindedly rubbed the needle in her hand against the lodestone resting on the table, watching as it grew magnetized and swung to true north. A soft thud sounded behind her, but Kamala didn’t have to turn to know who it was. 

“London?” The girl’s voice was icy as always, nearly as sharp as the wind tearing through her thin blouse. 

“London. We have a job.” 

Grace scoffed and came up next to her to lean against her table, cluttered with maps and compasses. Tatiana had taken Grace when she had been very young, twisting and molding her into the girl she was now. Kamala had come soon after, hired from a village where she had been running out of money. Everyone came for selfish reasons she supposed, but she never understood Grace’s motives to stay. 

“What’s in London?” Grace asked, “Besides Tatiana.” 

Kamala winced. “The Herondales.” 

Grace’s face twisted into an unpleasant scowl, she turned on her heel and disappeared to enter the hold where their beds were kept. The Herondales were a touchy subject. She didn’t understand the full story, just knew that Tatiana made a public offer to marry off Grace and the Herondales declined; just as publicly. Then again Tatiana had a way of twisting the truth and Grace a way of believing it. 

Kamala steeled herself before rapping her knuckles on the door leading to the captain’s cabin. The door swung open rather quickly revealing the captain of their ship. A man named Belial. He had been aboard longer than even Grace, terrorizing the seas alongside Tatiana and the rest of their crew, but as far as Kamala knew there were no romantic ties. 

Belial, though she would never admit such a thing, frightened her. She relayed the direction they were meant to be headed and tried not to appear as if she was fleeing when she retreated into the hold. 

“Ms. Joshi.” Belial said, stopping her in her tracks. 

“Yes?” She asked, wondering what would happen if she pushed him overboard. 

“When we arrive in London there’s something I need you to do, since Tatiana will have her hands full with her vendetta against the Herondales” When she didn’t respond he continued. “ Our other ships have reported sightings of the Carstairs. In London.” 

Kamala stiffened. She’d only seen the Carstairs ship once, hadn’t seen their small crew at all but she’d heard enough about them. The boy with cold eyes and sharp daggers, the girl with red hair and a golden sword that marked their family. 

“What exactly is it that I’m meant to do?” She asked, clearing the roughness from her voice.  

“Lure them here. Locate them and bring them to this ship.” 

“You want me to capture them?” 

A cruel smile twisted his face. “No. I want you to kill them.”

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno and @barbra-lightwood

Props to Alastair for being able to canonically pick up a language he’d stopped speaking for several years, I still feel so awkward about talking in my native language.  

[ikevamp-annalyne]

Annalyne Sonata [IkeVamp OC]

Hey guys! I am so verry happy to finally being able to officially introduce my IkeVamp OC, Annalyne! ٩(●ᴗ●)۶

This is a very long post, but I hope you won’t be discouraged and will enjoy learning a bit more about her, and the story I imagined for her (^.^)ゞ

I also commissioned the MOST AMAZING ARTIST EVER @lemonsqueazie​ for drawing my baby OC! ღවꇳවღ She is my favourite artist, and also an amazing human being that I love very much. She is so attentive to what you tell her, always doing everything to meet your ideas and make the best art for you! I highly recommend to check out her blog @lemonsqueazie​ alongside her Instagram and her DeviantArt post about her commissions! You can also find all the infos here.

NOW, ON WITH THE OC! (๑ゝڡ◕๑)

Name: Annalyne

Last name: Sonata

Nicknames: Anna, Nana, Lyn

DOB: June, 19, 1995 (25 years old)

Origin: French

Languages: French, English, Spanish, Italian, German, Japanese, Korean

Height: 160cm (5.25ft)

Sexuality: pan

Job: freelance fashion designer, blogger, gamer

Passions: fashion, drawing, eating, baking, cooking, videogames, reading, music

Phobias: larvas and maggots, bugs (except ladybugs)

Lover: Leonardo Da Vinci

"Heh? What is this? Kinda like a storage room?"

Annalyne is a very chill woman, taking things at her own pace and working hard towards her goals and dreams. When she doesn't work, she becomes a lazy slug chilling with a good book or videogames -part of why she is also a gamer-.

Her most prominent traits are definitely: her kindness, her humour -made of bad puns and references-, her caring side, her clumsiness and her supportive behaviour. Number one fan of her family and friends.

She will always go out of her way to make her loved ones feel loved, supported or just important. She can also easily throw hands if needed. No one messes with her or her close ones without getting punished.

She has a hard time trusting people. It looks like she is close to everyone, but she hardly confides in people. It takes a hecking long time to build a relationship of trust with her -due to some childhood traumas-

She is strong-willed and -way too- a tad stubborn. But she compensates by being very sweet and cute. She can be very anxious but eating calms her, explaining her chubbiness. Also, count on her for helping everyone.

She is very good at cooking and baking, and loves making things herself. She loves dogs, but honestly, she loves almost every animal ever. She has a talent with them, understanding them beyond reason: animals love her.

"Call me the PUNisher."

She is easily triggered by disrespect, racism, homophobia, bullying and abuse. She can kick your ass off if needed, being very rude and violent when angry -she already broke the arm of a racist, and slapped Shakespeare...-

Comte is the one engaging conversation with her, asking her if she likes this painting. She is hyper excited talking about it and Comte cannot help but giggle, finding a Da Vinci's fangirl in modern days being pretty rare.

How she met Comte:

Annalyne lives near Paris and absolutely loves museums. Therefore she spends a hella lot of time in the Louvre, especially contemplating Da Vinci's works. She meets Comte in front of Da Vinci's painting Saint-Jean-Baptiste.

They spend some time debating and chatting over Leonardo Da Vinci's life, works of art and other controversies. He smiles a lot throughout the whole chat, since he wonders how his old friend would react.

How she ends up in Comte's mansion:

Comte bids her goodbye after they have finally seen Mona Lisa from up close. She thanks him for the delightful conversation, happy she has met someone as knowledgeable as him on her favourite historical figure.

She is taken aback, quite surprised, and thinks the mansion is a storage room. Maybe the man is actually an employee? She is curious though so she walks through the hall and stares at everything in awe.

When he leaves, waving his hand, his pocket watch falls and Annalyne picks it up. She chases after Comte all over the museum and sees him going through a door. She opens it and ends up in the mansion's hall.

Who she meets:

While discovering the hall, she stumbles upon Leonardo who's asleep. She doesn't want to wake him up but God, she stares for a good minute at the sleeping man. "I have never seen such a gorgeous man..."

She walks past him and continues looking for Comte. But then, Napoleon appears and asks her who she is, and what she does here. She tells him she wants to find the gorgeous blonde man to give him his watch.

He offers to give to him in lieu of her. But she is wary of him, a stranger. And Comte appears, the noise having caught up his attention. He recognises Annalyne and is surprised she is there. She gives him the watch.

The first dinner:

Comte gladly accepts the watch and asks her if she wants to dine with him and the residents of this mansion. Mansion? She stares at him, dumbfounded, and frowns. "Mansion? Isn't that a storage room or something?"

Comte giggles and promises to explain it all over dinner. Her trust for Comte and her love for food makes her accepting the offer. How surprised she is upon seeing all these people gather around a huge table!

She sits down and gets served by Sebastian, under all the surprised looks. Comte then proceeds on explaining it all to her: how all the residents in there are famous historical figures, and how she is the past.

How she reacts:

She is surprised, but she believes in timelapse, magic, etc. So she just stares in surprise and shock but is soon overexcited to meet all these people who changed history and inspired her throughout her whole life.

She will ask a bunch of questions to each of them, questions she has always been curious about, like the rumours and alleged controversies. Even when she hears about not being able to go back in her time, she is strangely chill about it.

"Well, there's no helping it! I will come up with a lie when I go back there!" But she will write letters and leave them -along jewels of hers- in places she thinks her friends or family could find them in the future.

Meeting her soulmate:

Sebastian shows her her room and then tells her to explore the mansion if she wants to. What she does! She then remembers the man sleeping in the hall? He must be a historical figure as well, but who can he be...?

She wants to know so she goes to find him and stumbles upon him, nearly falling on top of him. He seems awake since he is sitting on the floor. He had heard her footsteps so he smiles at her. "Well, who do we got there, Cara Mia?"

She smiles at the Italian nickname and tells him everything about her being here. He is surprised she is so chill about it but he smiles and introduces himself. "Well Cara Mia, nice to meet you. I'm Leonardo Da Vinci."

Upon hearing the name, her eyes widen and her breath catches in her throat. She stares, her heart beating faster every passing second. His smile is intoxicating and she cannot help but blush and stutter.

"W-well, nice to meet you, Leonar- huh Sir Leonardo? How, how should I call you?" He laughs."Leonardo is enough, Cara Mia." He smiles and pats her head before standing up. "Watch yourself, Cara Mia."

Her reaction upon the vampiric reveal:

After having talked with Comte and decided to stay in his mansion, she actually wonders how he could resurrect them. She decides to ask Sebastian, her new colleague, and he just shows her the Rouge and Blanc bottles.

"What's that?" She asks, pretty curious."Take a look and you will understand." She first goes for the Rouge and recognises the metallic smell of blood. She stares at Sebastian. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"They are all vampires. Except I, who is human." She widens her eyes, sueprised, and then goes "Aaaaah, that's how he did! Makes sense!" She smiles. "Is Comte the one who transformed them all or no?" "He did, yes."

"So, is he like, a pureblood vampire? A superior vampire who can turn humans into vampires?" "How do you know about this?" "Oh please, Sebastian. Cinema, animes, mangas and books are full of vampires."

Sebastian stares at her, bewildered. "And you are not afraid? They could easily feed off of you, even kill you." "Oh please Sebastian, they're more like puppies than wolves! If they were capable of this, you wouldn't be here!"

"Plus," she says while flashing a big dumb grin. "If they wanted to eat me, they would have already bitten me and emptied me of all my blood. They are not dangerous." Sebastian is shocked at how chill she is.

Her relationships with the residents:

She gets close to every resident ofthe mansion pretty fast, especially since she is not pushy, funny, kind, calm and knowledgeable on a lot of matters. They all grow a soft spot for her, even shyer and harsher residents.

Napoleon: they bond over cooking and baking. Also, since she is French, she can tell him about the impact he had on her country.

Mozart: music is common ground for them. She knows a lot about him and will sing for him, being allowed in the music room.

Arthur: writing sessions together, in his room or hers. They tease each other a lot and she is quick to react to his flirting.

Vincent: they are very close, bonding over drawing and painting. They talk a lot about art and have art sessions.

Theodorus: she doesn't let him win with his harsh replies and he likes that. She is strong and adores Vincent: he likes her a lot.

Isaac: she isn't pushy and gives him room so he likes talking with or teaching her a few things. They often meet in his room.

Jean: he likes how pure she is but she doesn't let him avoid her. She will do anything to befriend him and he gives in.

Dazai: sharing writing ideas brings them closer. They also laugh a lot because they are both airheads amd chaotic walking memes.

William: she likes his work but hates him. She will always avoid him, or shoot sharp daggers glares at him.

Comte: the father figure. She loves going to him to talk or when she needs some calm, and having tea together.

Sebastian: always laughing and teasing each other. She will flick his forehead when he assumes things for her.

Her relationship with her soulmate:

She is a Da Vinci's fangirl so of course, she is a mess around him. At first, she just blushes a lot, stutters a bit around him and she fangirls when he is not around. "Omg I can't believe I witnessed him sketching!!!"

They bond very easily since they both love arts. And Leonardo is very curious about her fashion style, her job, and basically how the world works in modern days -she spent an entire night talking about phones-

One day, he finds her sighing in her room: "what's the problem?". "Ah, nothing, I'm just, not comfortable in Comte's dresses. I'm more into trousers or skirts from my time." He is curious so she tells him about modern day fashion.

"Ah, so women wear pants and shirts. Whatever they want." She nods excitiedly."Yeah, and I hope one day men will be able to do so as well! Wear skirts and dresses and heels. But toxic masculinity is still pretty deep..."

"Wait for me, Cara Mia" and he dashes off the room, to come back later with a stack of shirts and trousers. "Here, take these. They're mine but for now, it will do. Tomorrow, we're going shopping for you."

And they do go shopping the next day, buying loads of men clothes alongside jewels and shoes. Also, they buy fabrics, needles and everything for Annalyne to sew her own clothes. He loves seeing her so happy.

She spends the next days adjusting Leonardo's clothes and the ones they bought to her chubby curves. And Leonardo surprises her by wearing a dress. They go have dinner like this: her in men's clothes, him in women's clothes.

Legend says every resident nearly choked themselves of either shock or laughter. And Leonardo and Annalyne really enjoyed it a lot and decided to do this at least once a week -Leo enjoyed the dress, actually-

The purebloodness revelation:

She catches very early on that he is a pureblood, without him even telling her. She is extra sensitive so she kinda feels auras and saw how Comte and Leonardo's eyes are similar. His genius made even more sense.

"Leonardo. Are you like Comte, a pureblood vampire?" She asked him while they were shopping for fabrics. Leonardo nearly fell out of surprise. "What are you talking about, Cara Mia?" "Well, you know..."

"Same eyes as Comte, genius who can do anything, super strong and intimidating aura. Open-minded as if you've already seen everything, and laziness that can be explained by already having done everything possible..."

He stares at her and then laughs, patting and ruffling her hair. "You're awfully clever and intuitive, Cara Mia. Yes, I am a pureblood. Does it change anything between us? "HELL NO!" she shouts. "But I've got questions!!!"

She drowns him under questions on everything he's done, seen, lived. They spend almost all of their time together, teaching each other about their lives and their knowledge. Residents are jealous of the Leonardo monopoly.

How it "ends" between them:

She is a strong woman and will go back to her time. But she promises Leonardo she will find him, right after returning to her time. He asks her what day it was, when she entered the mansion. "March, 15th, 2020."

When she leaves, while everyone is crying, Leonardo calculates. "Okay, gone for a month in her time, so she'll be in the Louvre in April, 15th, 2020. Ah. My birthday." He smiles. Almost 200 years, but it will be so worth it.

When she passes through the door, she is back in her time. Asking a guide what day it is. "April, 15th, 2020". The day they agreed upon, and Leonardo's birthday. She smiles and then proceeds to rush out of the Louvre to look for him.

But then she passes in front of Saint-Jean-Baptiste. Her favourite painting. A tall and gorgeous man is standing there, in a blue shirt and blue jeans. She feels it. She goes to the man, pats him on the shoulder, and asks: "Leonardo...?"

The man turns around, a huge grin on his face, bright golden eyes shining with love: "Was about time, Cara Mia..." she cries and throws herself at his neck; he spins her, crying as well, burrying his face in her neck.

"I missed you so much. Never do this again. 200 years was worth it but it was too long." She is a mess while crying. "I, I pwomiss Leo, I will neba leaf you again-" he laughs at her messy face. "Look at you, silly girl." He kisses her.

"I want you to see how much I love you in my eyes. They speak on my behalf."

Trivia facts:

She has a tiny water spray bottle she labelled as "Holy Water". Whenever a resident smiles or laughs, she opens it and "collects" their happiness. Thus, when one is talking shit about himself, she sprays the water on them.

"There, you have been blessed with Holy Water. Now love yourself or I agressively hug you." -the mistake on the label,on "thoughts" is intended, as it is is a mix between thots and thoughts, bitch thoughts she's gonna spray away.

She hates Shakespeare, Faust and Vlad. Whenever they pass by the mansion, she grabs the garden hose she labelled "Garden Hoes" and splashes water on them. "Oh no, you walking sin, stay away from my babies!"

She eats A LOT and puts shame on Theo when it comes to eating sweet things. They have pancake-eating competitions -and guess what, she wins-. She will be snacking 24/7 when nervous, anxious, sad and basically under negative emotions.

She listens to every type of music. She really enjoys any kind of rock music, and is also very knowledgeable on classical music. She likes to dance on Kpop and sing on Disney songs: her favourites are definitely I’ll Make A Man Out Of You and Why Should I Worry -in French-

She used to practice martial arts so she can beat the crap out of anyone being a little sh*t with her or her loved ones. She also has a very scary aura when furious, leading to most people just running away from her wrath.

She loves gossiping with Arthur. Whenever she knows about some rumours, or when she needs to talk about something that upset her, she goes to his room with coffee or tea. They both irradiate chaotic gossiping energy when together.

She is the mom friend, and becomes the mom of the mansion. She already told Jean to “get his bottoms in the living room to eat with all of them”, else she was going to kick his butt so hard he would be unable to sit or practice fencing.

All the animals LOVE her. Chérie is missing? She is cuddling with her in the patio. Lumiere is not under the bed? He is sleeping on her laps while she reads. King is nowhere to be found? She is playing with him in the garden. Snow White vibe.

She loves flowers and will put some all over the mansion. She puts one every day in front of every resident’s door, with a message written on a tiny piece of paper, something like: “You are a sweetheart and you deserve the best, keep going, dearie!”

[hyukiee]

Chapter 1: Destiny

warnings: cussing, drug use, mental illness (future fluff, smut, angst, etc.)

this is my first story i’m writing on tumblr, I hope y’all like it. I’ll probably update once or twice a week. I plan on this not so lovely love story to be pretty long.. and angsty. Enjoy :)

Dreams are one of the most unknown things we experience, yet no one questions our lack of knowledge about them when we lay in bed at night. Not everybody dreams. Some people only dream when their happy... or sad... or scared... or it just happens every blue moon for no reason at all. You dream every day, to the point where you feel a little depressed if you don’t have one. They never take you to wonderland, their never right, something is always off but you liked them anyways. They gave you an escape from reality, until reality started showing up in your dreams. The reality that you’re slowly killing yourself when really this was supposed to be the peak of your existence. The reality that you literally gave the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, the ugliest look in downtown Hollywood and the reality that you know you will ruin his life or get close to it.

‘That stupid fucking asshole, I can’t believe that no good piece of shit left me to fend for myself. It’s so fucking hot. Fuck off Karen, my face is easier to look at than that awful sweater. Fuck. I need to sit down.’ You stopped walking and you look at yourself through the reflection of some enterance to a cafe, it smells like. Jesus christ, those eye bags look like black eyes. You went to your closest friends party the other night, you didn’t want to go so that explains the oversized grey hoodie and grey sweats that... have dirt on them? How the fuck- you know what, you’ve seen worse. You can’t go inside the cafe looking like this though. The shady floor will do for now. Everyone is wearing work clothes so you must of slept through all of Sunday. Alone. Because your dick head of a friend abandoned you, god knows when but for someone that slept through an entire day, you’re tired. Maybe it’s just the mental exhaustion you live with but god you could use a nap. “E-eguse me ehm here you go,” you look up and see the most perfectly built man you have ever seen, holding a.. $10 bill? You unknowingly glare at him after noticing his arm holding out the money to you. He looked nervous, and foreign as fuck what accent is that? “I’m not homeless, fuck off.” Who the fuck is he to assume your homeless? Cant someone sit in piece for a little? Prick. You stood up, hitting his shoulder as you walked away, not ever looking back at his beautiful face.

Wake up, go to the beach, take a xans, go to work, go home, sleep, wake up, eat, sleep, and wake up to repeat the process. You always hated living by a constant schedule, but at this point you do anything you can to hurt yourself. The weekends are different though, its always spontaneous. Will you snort a line with the crackheads down the street or will you go to a party because you know the college kids adore their new interest in drugs? You really don’t need drugs. You’re fine. Depression put you in this place and god you feel like a coward. People go through so much more and stay away from drugs. Coward. Your thoughts consist of things like this often, even when your supposed to be hearing your idiot friends excuse for abandoning you last week. “Y/n, seriously, I could of sworn you were dead.” “Wow, thanks Julian, i’ll make sure to leave your lifeless body instead of calling 911 like a sane person when I get the chance.” You both rolled your eyes in sync. You loved Julian, he’s such a dumbass but despite saying he’s your closest friend, your hardly friends. You met before you dropped out of college, he was your dealer, one of the nicest ones you’ve met. You ran into him often and bought from him often as well so you would talk but the reality is he only stays because you’re his best costumer and you frankly don’t care because you are too lost to even care about someone else.

“Y/n, I think you should lay back on your habits a little bit,” Julian broke the silence you both had on the pier. You both liked to meet up at the pier and smoke a little. “Oh please, don’t act like you care. Drop the act and be a fake friend to me, please,” you spoke unemotionally, making eye contact with him. “I’ve never met someone asking for a fake friend.” “Real ones require you to love and deal with them. I can’t do that for you Julian but I know that’s not what you wanted anyways. I practically pay your rent, just thank me and change the topic.” He sighed. Not a disappointed one, a relived one. Julian has been a dealer for a very long time, he stopped caring about his costumers decisions. He didn’t truly care for your health, it was the sad truth. He did get worried that night at his party but only because he isn’t heartless. You knew that though, you seemed so lifeless and incapable of feeling anything to him. He wondered about your story at times but he knew somehow he would never get it. You’re easy to talk to though, it’s nice. “Thank you.”

Ever since you were little you wanted to live in a big city like L.A. Although, you imagined you would be going to UCLA and going to study on a beach just because you could. Standing next to Julian in line at Coachella, you just now take in how completely different your life turned out but at least you did end up here. Julian gets into Coachella for free every single year so your always his +1. You love gatherings like this but this one is just a little too Pg for you. You always end up spending most of your time at the food trucks. But according to Julian, ‘so many people would kill to be around this many celebrities’ so maybe you could get a drink or two in and mingle or whatever. It won’t kill you. So here you are, waiting to get a margarita because god knows you can’t be any type of social while sober. “I guess you weren’t homeless after all, my apologies,” you turn around and see the beautifully built man leaning down towards you. You could run. You’re not to far from the exit and it would be impossible to run into this guy for a third time... right? “Are you following me?” That was supposed to stay in your thoughts.. Is he though? How the hell do you see each other in two different cities? Sure, everyone knows about Coachella but how does he recognize you, you look good today, not homeless or drugged up, whichever works. “Ah, sorry, my english bad,” He stood up straight rubbing his hand on the back of his neck nervously. Right. Foreigner with a unknown accent. “What language do you speak?” It’s not like you’re going to understand his language but your curiosity is getting the best- “Korean.” You know it really isn’t too late to run. This man could be lying, trying to kidnap you and sex traffic you. What are the chances he just happens to speak the one other language you do as well. He could be faking this for all you know. “Hello,” You haven’t spoken in Korean since high school. You dont know why you even let that out. “You speak Korean? Wow, hello!” He bowed to you slightly with a box like smile on his face. That’s cute. It’s different. “I really am sorry for mistaking you the other day, do you mind me asking what happened?” “I was on a lot of drugs at a party and my friend abandoned me because he thought I overdosed.” You learned a long time ago to leave your addiction to yourself. People look at you differently when you do drugs, even your closest friends. That’s one of the first lessons you learn as a drug addict, keep it to yourself. The only people that know you do drugs are the ones that do them too. You could of lied to him, but the self destructive part of you couldn’t help but push this stranger away. You turned around to look at him after it got awkwardly silent. “What? You surprised? Scared? No harsh feelings, I don’t even know you.” You held in a laugh from his shocked and awkward expression. “Your right, we don’t know each other, I’m Taehyung,” He held out his hand replacing his taken aback expression back to his box-y smile, pretending what you said just never happened. ”Y/n,” You sighed. He won’t give up whatever this is. Fantastic. “Well actually, i’m supposed to be talking with famous people or something like that so I should get going,” You didn’t know how to get out of this situation. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with him standing so close to you. This conversation gets more and more awkward everytime you speak. “Then why are you leaving?” You both stared at each other, surprisingly not awkwardly. It was comforting looking into his eyes. “What? “You know what, I actually should go before i’m late, i’ll see you later,” he gave you one last smile and patted your shoulder before leaving you. “But- Why? What?”

“I just had the most uncomfortable conversation of my life with this insanely perfect looking man,” you spoke almost out of breath, finally finding Julian in the crowd. “Yeah, i’m pretty sure I saw who you’re talking about when I left you,” Julian is such an old soul. He responded while looking ahead at the stage, almonds in one hand like a football dad. “Who’s performing next” “Uh, BTS.” You hardly listen to music these days. Music that doesn’t fit your ‘fuck life, love drugs’ aesthetic. BTS doesn’t ring a bell so you probably won’t like it but it’s not like you have anything else to do, you’ve had enough with weird interactions. “Remind me why we’re sober,” you sighed, starting to feel the pain from standing for so long. “I’m sober, you’re drunk.” Julian glanced at the margarita in your hand. Right, you almost forgot. “Oh, don’t judge-“ “Sh sh sh their coming.” He hit your shoulder a couple of time looking at the stage like a child. You hate when people tap on you it’s so annoying. You sighed for the one thousandth time and focused on the group of people coming to the stage. Asians, how convenient. You know if life really hated you they would be Korean just like- “Ey, isn’t that the ‘insanely perfect looking man’ you were talking about? I can’t tell.” You have got to be kidding. That’s why he asked why you were leaving. He’s fucking famous. “I need another drink,” You sighed.

[lunawings]

This is something I wrote a couple months ago one night when I couldn’t sleep.

I’m probably going to delete it, but something inside me thinks it’s important for me to get it out in the world before I open my ask box again and whatnot. 

So I mentioned in a previous post something like “a chain of events from spring 2019″ made me realize that I needed to leave Japan. A significant part of that was actually... Aqours 5th Love Live. 

Of course this had nothing to do with the girls or the concert itself. Seeing Aqours really was a dream come true and I wouldn’t give up that experience for anything. It had to do with... other people.

I’ve mentioned before that the men at Love Live events usually treat me like a ghost. This is not unusual or unexpected. Not only am I an outsider there because of my gender, but the grand majority of Japanese people often avoid foreigners when they can anyway. There’s that “oh lord what does she want I can’t speak English” look of fear and/or annoyance they get on their face even before I open my mouth. There’s the seats left open next to me on trains. 

However, this was life. Generally speaking, strangers in Japan don’t really interact with each other in public anyway, and I was used to it. 

But then there was Day 2 of Aqours 5th Love Live. Day 2 was the day I cheated myself into an amazing arena seat via the foreigner hotel plan that I technically wasn’t supposed to be eligible for. Thus, I was also seated in a row of other foreigners in what would otherwise be a sea of Japanese people. 

The difference was... astounding.

People acknowledged each other when they sat down. They made friendly and welcoming small talk. Complete strangers who had never met before. What. What is this!? I was actually too scared to talk to anyone because I felt guilty about taking a space in the foreigner hotel plan and didn’t want my secret to get out. Instead, I just kinda sat there bewildered, soaking it all in. 

After the concert, most of the row I was sitting in got on the hotel plan shuttle bus to go back to the hotels. I didn’t go for that option because it was expensive, and I figured it was unnecessary since I can take the train back to Tokyo by myself just fine. So instead I headed down to the train station like all the regular folk. But since the entire Saitama Arena was flooding the same train station at the same time, as you can imagine it was even worse than the worst of Tokyo rush hour. However, this was Day 2, so I knew the drill and I waited for a train to leave and then stood first in line to make sure I got a seat on the next train even though I would have to wait a bit longer. The train came and I zipped on it and sat down. Nobody sat next to me. More and more people got on, until the train was too squished for anyone to move. Still, nobody sat next to me. It was one of the most crowded trains I had ever been on in Japan, and nobody sat next to me. 

None of the Japanese Love Liver boys could bring themselves to sit next to the gross Love Liver white girl. 

And as I sat there awkwardly, I couldn’t help but think of the friendliness of the foreign fans. I wished I had talked to them. I really REALLY wish I had just talked to them. I thought about all the similar events I had been to in the past in which I had talked to no one and no one talked to me. I thought about how different my experience would have been if I had been going to events in America this whole time instead of Japan. I thought about how many years of socialization I’d lost and how deep the hole I had dug myself into had become.

Japan is both the best and worst country to live in if you have social anxiety. You really don’t have to talk to people in public almost ever. Strangers do not interact. Everyone has their own bubble around them. Even when you go to restaurants you can order by just buying a ticket from a machine or pointing to a picture on a menu. Heaven. Or so I thought. The longer I stayed, the more I let myself get used to it. A bit too used to it.

The day after the concert I decided to swing by Numazu on my long journey home. While I was sitting at a train station waiting for a transfer with a bunch of my Love Live gear on, a dude came up to me and asked me in English if I knew how to get to Numazu. He was one of the people from the foreigner hotel plan. Cool. But when he first called out to me, not only did I nearly jump out of my skin, I was actually pretty rude to him in my response. 

But why did I act that way? 

Why?

Maybe I could have even made a friend. 

But I didn’t. 

This was something I thought about for hours. And I realized something. The reason I acted the way that I did was because in Japan strange men never approach me in public. And when they do, it’s usually sexual harassment. So when this guy came up to me, my subconscious must have automatically labeled him a threat. It took me over a full minute after I had already raised all my shields and entered full bitch mode to realize he just wanted a friendly conversation and directions to Numazu. He had no ill intentions at all. In fact he was incredibly nice and I was a total jerk for no reason. 

I didn’t use to be this way. I didn’t use to be this way at all. I had plenty of male friends in high school and college. What happened. What happened to me.

I didn’t like this cold, anxious, closed-off person that I had become. I wanted to learn to talk to people again. To be open and friendly. And I didn’t want to admit it yet, but I knew that probably the only way to make things better and to get myself out of this hole was to just leave Japan and start over. 

And besides, I’d just seen Aqours, FROM THE FRONT OF THE ARENA which was such a HUGE dream come true. I’ve also been going to Tales of Festival for almost a decade. I’ve seen the King of Prism boys multiple times. And countless other things. The only other thing on my mind I really wanted to do was go to the Nebuta festival again, and to a few other things up north like Hakodate. And I did that over the summer. What’s left to do when you’ve already lived all your dreams? Rearrange your priorities, was the answer I came to.

Coming back to the states was really refreshing at first. It’s so bizarre to be out in public and have people actually start conversations and be friendly and expect me to know the language and treat me... normal. And I am getting better... kinda... or at least I was.

That was of course... before things started shutting down for coronavirus. Things have gone backwards and now I have basically been living more or less the same secluded life I had in Japan, except worse since I haven’t had a steady job. (And PriChan was just replaced with SIFAS.)

But what’s really awful is... I don’t particularly want it to end. Can’t they just keep streaming all events online forever? Can’t I just stay here playing SIFAS/LLSIF and not have to deal with the world?

How terrible of a person am I for feeling a little bit of joy when things I couldn’t go to anyway get cancelled... 

I really don’t know what I want anymore. I just don’t want to deal.

[azure-firecracker]

Here is another fic, this one written for my friend who doesn’t have tumblr (I know you stalk my blog, hi! I love u!) I’m getting an Archive of Our Own (is that what AO3 stands for?) account soon, so this is the last time a fanfic will take up a ton of space.

My friend’s prompt was « Talking about their younger selves with the ship of your choice. » Here it is!

We’re Not So Different After All.

TW: Descriptions of physical and verbal fighting.

Catherine and Anne were fighting again. Jane sighed as she heard their shouts coming from the second floor, echoing loudly above the music and yelling of the bar.

It had been Anne’s idea to to out for a night of dancing, and all of the queens, though some reluctantly, had agreed. It had actually been going better than some of their other nights out. No one was sick or delirious from drinking too much, Jane had managed to get Cathy to strike up a conversation instead of just reading her book, and even the normally self-conscious Kitty seemed to be having fun.

Then, Catherine’s wine went missing. All of the queens tried to get her to brush it off, to tell her that it was probably a stranger who had made a mistake. Angry drunk Catherine was something none of them wanted to face. The problem was that calming Catherine down was infinitely more difficult with Anne smirking and giggling in the corner. Of course Catherine noticed.

Neither of the queens were completely drunk, but both were a bit tipsy, which meant they put no limits on their fighting. No volume control, no awareness of the people around them, nothing.

Eventually, their fight ended up in an upstairs corridor. People popped out of rooms, yelled at them to shut up, and slammed their doors. It didn’t help.

Looking back on it, thought Cathy, she probably should’ve seen this coming. Both queens had been getting along better lately, but they’d both had a hard week. Catherine had had to do extra shows because one of the alternates was out, and during those shows, everything had seemed to go wrong. Anne had had an unusual amount of nightmares that week, even for her. They both needed to air their grievances one last time, and it made sense to do it after a crappy week. Cathy just wished it didn’t have to be so loud.

Upstairs, the first two queens had taken a break from clawing at each other and screaming. Now they were just screaming. Progress, thought Kitty, who had followed them upstairs to make sure no one got hurt. She fully and completely intended to keep an eye on them, no matter what. Or, she had, until she heard Halo by Beyoncé start playing downstairs.

She’d been having such a fun night.

Anna was waving at her.

It was one of her favorite songs.

Just one song.

How much trouble could it be?

« See?! » screamed Anne, still a tiny bit tipsy. « My cousin ran away from you! That’s how much you suck! »

« You sound like a drunk stupid person! » shouted Catherine, also a tiny bit tipsy.

« You are a drunk stupid person! »

« You’re a stupid person, period! »

« You’re more stupid! »

« You took my drink! »

« You took my life! »

« You took my husband! »

« You took my sanity! »

« You took mine first! »

Anne glared at Catherine with wildness in her eyes. Catherine glared back.

They lunged at each other and slammed into a wall. Anne grabbed Catherine and pushed her into the elevator. The second she got to the next floor, Catherine shoved Anne down the stairs. Anne pulled her down with her. Eager to start again, only to be faced with an angry mob of pub guests.

« SHUT UP! » yelled a woman in the front.

« We can’t sleep! » shouted a little boy in the back.

« Get out! »

« Be quiet! »

« We’re filing a noise complaint! »

Before the queens knew it, they were out on the roof, the door was locked, and neither of them could get any cell phone reception.

Ten minutes later, Anne slumped against the door.

« I’m cold. »

« Of course you’re cold, Anne. It’s the middle of winter! »

« You’re supposed to give me your coat when I say that! »

« But we’re not dating. »

« So what? »

« I’m not even wearing a coat. »

« Then give me your clothes. All of them. »

« I am not stripping for you on a roof! »

« How about when we get home? »

« Anne! »

« Okay, okay. I’m bored. Let’s play a game. »

Catherine looked at Anne warily. Anne looked back at her with pleading puppy dog eyes.

« Fine. »

So they sat shoulder to shoulder with their backs to the door, hoping a little bit of warmth would seep through the cracks.

« Never have I ever flirted with someone to manipulate them, » said Catherine a little later. Anne paused.

« Well, do you mean in a big way or in a little way. Like, does it have to be to take over a kingdom or something like that, or do you mean, like, to get free food? »

« Any of it! »

Anne put down a finger with a smirk on her face.

« Never have I ever been fluent in French. »

« That is not allowed! »

« There’s nothing that says that! »

« Me! I’m saying that! »

« Did you invent this game? »

« Fiiiiine, » Anne put another finger down, « but this isn’t fair! You have all 10 fingers left, and I only have 5! »

« Alright, you can have an extra turn, but only because it’ll make you stop whining. »

« Never have I ever been fluent in Spanish. »

« You can’t do that. »

« You literally just did the same thing. »

« Fine. »

« Never have I ever been married to multiple people in my life. »

« So unfair. »

« Put down a finger. »

« Alright! »

« I’m cold. »

« I know. So am I. »

« I think I have hypothermia. »

« That’s impossible. We haven’t been out here long enough. »

« You look very pale. »

« I don’t have hypothermia, Anne. »

« Are you sure? »

« No. »

« Me neither. »

« Let’s keep talking. You can distract me. »

Anne paused. « How distracted do you want to be? »

« Very. »

« Okay, » Anne paused once more, « never have I ever had nightmares about my childhood. »

« Yes you have. »

« Doesn’t matter. »

« Why? »

« Because that’s not the point. The point is that you put down a finger. »

Anothe pause. Then, « how did you know? »

« When I was your lady in waiting, I noticed that you never wanted to talk about your childhood. I was nosy, so when you went off alone to avoid us, I followed you. I would see you go to sleep. Every time we talked about your childhood, you went to bed and woke up screaming. I’ve been wanting to ask you about it ever since we got back, but I haven’t found the right time. »

Catherine started at Anne, shocked. « I never knew you both this much. »

«  I want to know the rest, » said Anne, all fun and games gone from her face. « Tell me about growing up. »

Catherine smirked. « What’s in it for me? »

« You lose your burden. I tell you my story, and you take on some of mine instead. »

« What if I’m not ready? »

« Then I go first. When I was little, I was a wild child. I broke all of the rules, asked all of the wrong questions, and annoyed the shit out of everybody. They decided to send me to court in France. I actually liked it there, because the people understood me. It was the first time that being smart and a girl was okay. But when my family care back, they were horrified. Instead of letting me stay, they decided to throw me at the king. Even then, they refused to speak to me. Because, »Anne gulped, tears starting to fill her eyes, « there was always something so wrong with me that not even those related to me could love me. »

This wasn’t the first time Catherine had heard stories about the Boleyn family. Kitty had said similar things, and it was common knowledge that both the beheaded cousins had had hard childhoods, but Anne had always seemed so confident when she talked about growing up that everybody had assumed she didn’t care. Now, looking at the second queen, Catherine didn’t know if she’d ever seen her this vulnerable. She looked unstable, like what she heard next would determine her worth for all of eternity. Catherine wasn’t sure what to say.

« For what it’s worth, I bet you were a very cute child. »

« I was a nightmare. »

« Why? »

« Parents are supposed to love you unconditionally. Mine didn’t. I must’ve done something wrong. »

« Has it ever occurred to you that the problem might be them? »

« Well, Henry did the same thing, so no. »

« Henry’s a dick. »

« Doesn’t matter. »

« What if I told you that that also happened to me? »

« I’d have to hear more to believe it. »

« Fine, I guess it’s my turn. » Catherine took a deep breath. « Ever since I was born, I was bred to be the next queen of England. I was raised on English customs, not my own. I learned to be quiet, polite, meek, and submissive. The trouble was, I wasn’t. I was too loud, to agressive, too talkative. I spent too much time sneaking off and playing with swords. My parents found out. » Catherine gulped. « They were warriors, both of them. I’ve never seen anything scarier than them when they were angry. I never forgot the sounds of their shouts. When I turned 15, they were all too happy to get rid of me, but I never stopped wondering how I’d been so awful as to get them to shout so loudly. »

Catherine was surprised to see Anne grinning at her

« What? »

« Catherine of Aragon, you were a wild child! »

« I was not! »

« Oh, you absolutely were! »

« I was a bad child, not a wild one. I’m still bad. »

Anne’s smile broke and she stared intently at Catherine, face filled with worry.

« Still too loud, too bossy... »

Anne looked more serious than Catherine had ever seen her, even when she was comforting Kitty.

« Well, Catherine, we were both unruly children. So if you’re bad, than so am I. »

« But you aren’t! »

« Then neither are you. »

There was a pause, then Catherine broke into a small smile. « We’re not so different, are we? »

Anne smiled back at her. « It’s nice to know I’m not the only one. »

« I still think you were a very cute child. »

« How would you know? »

« Well, you’re a very cute adult. »

Anne’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the Spanish queen. « Catherine of Aragon, are you flirting with me? »

Catherine turned bright red. « What? No! I was only... »

Anne could see how uncomfortable she was, so she decided to change the subject.

« Want to finish the game? »

« Yes. »

They played for a little while longer, but Anne could tell something was off with Catherine. She was glad she’d been able to help lighten her burden, but she also had a feeling there was something else Catherine wanted tonight, something she might’ve never had before. Anne knew she hadn’t. So she took a leap of faith.

« Never have I ever kissed someone and really liked it. »

Catherine looked at her in surprise. « Not even Henry? »

« Not even Henry. I was too busy trying to please my family, and by the time I stopped, he was planning my execution. »

« What about other times? »

« Other times? »

« Making out in bars, people you kiss after three dates, like that. »

« It’s empty. I enjoy it, but it also drains me. I end up worse off than when I started. »

There was another pause, what felt like the millionth that night. Then, « so you’ve never had any really good kisses, then? »

« I suppose not. »

Catherine looked up and stared right into Anne’s eyes. The green of her eyes reflected the moonlight and made the first queen feel like she was staring at two jewels.

« I guess we’ll have to fix that, won’t we? »

Anne looked back at Catherine. Her eyes were like melting pools of chocolate, warm and welcoming and safe. Anne had never seen anything to beautiful. Little did she know that Catherine was thinking the exact same thing.

« I guess we will. »

[thepurplebutterflythings]

New Girl - Billy Hargrove

Gif: Miss_Nocturna on Tenor

Word Count: 1.5K

Paring: Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things) x (f)Reader

Summary: The mysterious new girl from England is all Billy Hargrove can think about.

Requested: Anon

Masterlist

________________________________________________________________

Y/N Y/L/N had been in Hawkins for three weeks, three solid weeks, and Billy was yet to see the girl. She was elusive as if she was a mere rumour of the town. There wasn’t a country that Billy hadn’t heard be said as to where Y/N had originated from before making her grand entrance to Hawkins. Occasionally, he thought that perhaps he saw her hair in a crowd as she walked away from him. Of course, Billy tried to find her every time he thought he saw here, but before he could, she vanished.

“That new girl,” Max said in the car as Billy drove them home one night, “you know, the one from that country?”

“Mmm,” Billy hummed, uninterested in whatever Max had to say.

“She’s really nice – funny too.”

“You’ve met her?” Billy’s interest piqued hearing her.

“She works at the arcade,” Max shrugged, “told me and the others all about where she’s from. It sounds really cool.”

“Where is she actually from then?” Billy asked trying to seem like he didn’t care, but Max saw right through it.

“England.”

“British?”

“English – apparently there’s a difference.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Max said, “she tried explaining it but I had no clue what she meant. Dustin called her a ‘Brit’ and she was a little peeved by it.”

“Don’t call her a ‘Brit’ unless you want to be lectured – noted,” Billy chuckled a little, “she’s nice though?”

“Super nice,” Max nodded, “her and Nancy Wheeler are already good friends.”

Ugh. Nancy Wheeler. Billy bet that she was already warned her English Girl about him and to avoid him like the plague. No wonder he hadn’t been able to set his eyes on her yet. He just wanted to see her, see what she looked like. Y/N Y/L/N had a mysteriousness about her, something which set curiosity in the heart of Billy Hargrove. He just had to see her.

________________________________________________________________

Y/N leaned against the counter as Mike Wheeler and El chatted away with the newcomer. Everyone was curious about her, and Y/N had come to terms with that, but Mike, being her new pal’s little brother, was a soft spot for her. He was a sweet kid with a good heart and Y/N liked that. Having spent a lot of time at the Wheeler house since her arrival, Mike was also one of the few people in Hawkins who knew her well.

This was the first time Y/N was meeting Mike’s girlfriend, El was what everyone called her. El looked at Y/N with big brown Bambi eyes filled with fascination.

“What’s England like?” El asked curiously as Mike leaned against the counter, smiling and gazing lovingly at El.

“Rainy?” Y/N chuckled, her English accent strikingly standing out in the town of Hawkins. “Um, it’s lovely… I didn’t grow up in London though like everyone seems to think. I grew up in a little village with farms and such. London was a far cry from what I grew up with.”

“Farms? That must’ve been nice.”

“Yes, it was.” Y/N nodded and smiled at the memory, “you could hear the rooster in the morning, and you could drive past fields and see cows grazing and horses, and sometimes they’d come to the fences and ask for a fuss, like giant dogs.”

“I love horses,” El smiled.

“Is Max here?” Mike said suddenly, looking towards the door and frowning.

“I don’t think so, I haven’t seen her.”

“Well, Billy Hargrove just came in.”

Y/N tried to resist the urge to look. The Casanova of Hawkins! Nancy had introduced Y/N to a lot of people, but not Billy. Though that didn’t mean she didn’t hear of him. Billy Hargrove’s reputation lingered throughout the town. Nancy warned Y/N about Billy the first time she heard of him.

“Why’d he come here if he isn’t supposed to pick Max up?” El asked, “He’d never come in here willingly."

“I’ve got a theory about it,” Mike said, meeting Y/N’s eyes. Y/N smiled awkwardly. Course she knew Billy was interested in her. She heard it in whispers, she saw it in the glimpses she vaguely caught before Nancy, Steve or Jonathan encouraged her away to somewhere else before he saw her or she saw him properly.

“Hey…” Billy said awkwardly to Mike and El, “Mick, Ellie.”

“Mike.”

“El.”

“Right, how are you?” He asked them, trying to seem interested.

“Fine…” they trailed off, looking at each other and speaking to the other silently. “We’re gonna play some games, talk to you later?” They said to Y/N, who smiled and nodded.

As the couple left, Billy remained, causing Y/N to stand up straight and finally look upon the mystery that was Billy Hargrove. He was preened, took great pride in his appearance, the type of gentleman her Grandfather would call ‘dandy’. Y/N didn’t know what dandy meant as a kid, but her grandfather explained it to her with an old, wise voice, telling her ‘a dandy? Well, they’re the kind of lad who cares about how they look, how they present themselves, they’re concerned about that sort of stuff. They’re those fashionable fellas you see around the towns wearing those clothes that are trendy.’

Billy looked right back at her with blue eyes that glinted in the light that was fascinated with her, not quite how El looked at her. El looked at her with a childish enthusiasm of wanting to know and learn. Billy looked at Y/N with a curious want, the kind of gaze you would get from across the room from a man who you so badly want to talk to but wanted to appear cool and aloof. For some strange reason, Y/N wanted to know if she satisfied that curious fascination deep in his eyes.

“May I help you, sir?” Y/N said politely.

“Nah, Nah,” Billy chuckled with a smirk, shoving his hands in his pockets. Y/N cocked her eyebrow and eyed him again.

“Then why stand at the counter? There might be those who want to come to the counter for help.”

“Well, I’m sure they’d make themselves known, wouldn’t they?”

“Not if someone else is at the counter, they’d think you’re enquiring and interrupting would be rude,” Y/N pointed out as she rested her hands on the counter and tapped it with her finger.

“They might think that in Great Britain, doll, but not here in the Colonies,” Billy teased, seeing her agitation as she was classed as a Brit rather than an Englishwoman.

“Perhaps that’s why you Yanks have the reputation of being uncivilised,” she shot back quickly, her English tongue pulling out every crisp syllable as she spoke, drawing Billy’s attention to every letter, holding him as though being hypnotised.

Billy grinned at her quick wit and jokingly put his hand over his hurt before mocking a hurt expression.

“Ouch, you wound me, doll.”

“Is ‘doll’ an American thing?”

“You like it, doll?”

“Don’t know, Love, might need to mull it over.”

“Love?”

“If you can call me an American term, I should be able to call you an English term.”

“A British term.”

“English – there’s a difference.”

“So my sister said, still confused as to what it is though…” Billy said, pretending to ponder an idea, “say, doll, why don’t you explain it to me over dinner? Friday at 7?”

“Does this ploy usually work on the American birds?”

“What poly?”

“This whole straight forward crap without trying to know me first?”

“Wow, are all British Women so uptight?”

“English!” She corrected him again, “Would you like it if I called you Canadian?”

“Alright, are all English Women so uptight?”

“Only when associating with a complete and downright bellend!”

“What?”

“I know Americans have trouble understanding the simplest words, so you might need to point out which part I need to explain to you like a toddler,” Y/N mocked. This was uncharted territory for Billy. He had never come across a girl who didn’t swoon at him and fall at his feet. He was Billy Hargrove, all he had to do was snap his fingers and some chick would be at his side. The sparring between Y/N and himself was something new, but not unpleasant, he found himself enjoying it actually.

“Bellend.”

“Dick head,” she said.

“Wow,” he chuckled.

Y/N smiled and couldn’t lie to herself that she was enjoying herself in the conversation with Billy Hargrove. He was surprisingly interesting and met her expectations. Sometimes what you get isn’t at all close to what you expected, and so you are bored and uninterested with what you end up with. Y/N wasn’t uninterested. She was fascinated.

“Any other words you need me to explain?”

“Funny,” Billy smiled.

“Yes, us English have a wicked sense of humour!”

“So you’re the famous Y/N Y/L/N from England, huh?”

“That I am,” Y/N nodded, “And you’re the infamous Billy Hargrove?”

“The one and only, doll.”

“I’ve heard an awful lot about you.”

“I’ve heard not a lot about you.”

“Guess you’re going to have to get to know me,” Y/N teased.

“Then will you go out to dinner with me?”

“Perhaps,” Y/N chuckled.

“I can turn that perhaps into a hell yeah, doll.”

“Well, looking forward to seeing you try, love.”

[lothiriel84]

Fake It

Show me joy, flower through disarray Let's destroy, each mistake that we made

A Cabin Pressure ficlet. Set in the same universe as Overjoyed, Joy, Million Pieces, and An Act Of Kindness. Aromantic!Carolyn, with background aromantic!Tiffy. (With thanks to @sircarolyn​ and @fractionallyfoxtrot​ for their prompts.)

“Far be it from me to question your motivations, Carolyn, but I fear the waiters are starting to suspect the menu has somehow managed to personally offend you.”

She turns her patented death glare on him, but it’s more out of habit than anything else. “Whoever translated the ice cream list into this weird approximation of the English language, frankly deserves a taste of Arthur’s cuisine.”

“Shall I order for you? You won’t regret it, I promise,” Douglas offers, without any apparent second motive. He’s in a good mood today – she suspects it’s got something to do with how he got to show off with a perfectly executed landing in Pisa, and in front of Arthur’s live-in partner on top of that. (Arthur explained to her that Tiffy isn’t quite comfortable with being referred to as his ‘girlfriend’, and she’s been trying to avoid using the term since, even in the privacy of her own mind.)

“Fine,” she shrugs, irritably, and shuts the menu. She barely pays any heed to Douglas rattling off the order in what sounds like fairly good Italian – at least to her own, unmistakably British, ear – starts fiddling with her phone instead.

“I’m sure even Arthur can’t manage the feat of accidentally tipping the Leaning Tower over, if that’s what’s troubling you.”

“Douglas,” she starts, pinching the bridge of her nose for good measure. “If I wanted to put up with a man’s idea of a witty conversation, I’d be out there sightseeing with Herc.”

“Trouble in paradise, I surmise?” Douglas ventures to enquire, almost genuinely sympathetic for a change.

“It’s none of your business,” she retorts, quickly. Douglas doesn’t seem to mind her abruptness, though – just flashes a charming smile at the young waitress bringing their ice cream sundaes, and signals for the taller one to be placed in front of Carolyn.

“Almond and pistachio gelato,” Douglas gestures with his spoon. “My favourite.”

Carolyn takes a cautious sniff, stares suspiciously at her glass cup. “Douglas, if you ordered some god-awful flavour on purpose, I swear,” she starts, only to trail off as she tastes the first spoonful. “What on earth is this?”

“Limoncello gelato. I’m told it tastes amazing.”

She takes another spoonful, and while her first instinct is to be contrary just for the sake of it, in the end she simply can’t summon the energy for it. “It does, rather, actually.”

“You’re welcome,” Douglas smirks, tucking into his gelato with gusto.

They finish their ice cream in silence, and in an uncharacteristic bout of generosity, Douglas even offers to pay. She lets him, if only to be afforded the satisfaction of bringing it up later, and they find their way towards a bench sitting in the shade of yet another of those sickly smelling linden trees.

“I don’t need a man’s pity,” she declares at length, against her better judgement, somehow tricked into it by Douglas's continued – and frankly unnerving – silence. “Especially not Herc’s.”

“Again, far be it from me to offer matrimonial advice,” he sighs. “But if that’s of any consolation, I don’t believe you have it.”

“How would you know,” she bites back, somewhat bitterly, only to feel vaguely guilty about it immediately after. None of this is Douglas’s fault – nor Herc’s, for that matter, if she has to be completely honest with herself. Herc’s been nothing but utterly supporting of her, which is what unnerves her the most, no matter how irrational that sounds.

“I hate to be the one to break this to you, Carolyn, but the walls of the Portakabin are hardly soundproof.”

Of course. She’d been too bloody furious to care, and the worst part was that deep down, she knew Herc was right – it was just a lot to wrap her head around, even more so after spending sixty-three odd years wondering whether there was something fundamentally wrong with the way she was.

“I’m not an idiot, Douglas,” she points out, matter-of-factly. “I am well aware of the many, varied romantic and sexual orientations available to humankind, as Arthur was so kind as to teach me at some length after that blasted course in Ipswich. And while I do appreciate that Arthur, in his infinite optimism, must have meant that ridiculous pin badge as a well-intended gift, I can’t see why I should publicly advertise such a private matter, let alone be – proud – of it.”

She almost spits out the word, as if physically lodged somewhere in her throat. For all that she values Herc’s intelligence enough to trust he’s not somehow deluding himself about the true nature of their relationship and the foundations of their marriage, she can still feel the doubt raising its ugly head way more often than she should like.

“I never thought I would have to come out and say this, and I would appreciate if you kindly refrained from mentioning it in front of the man himself, but – well, Herc is no idiot, either. He knew precisely what he was signing up for when he proposed to you, and yet he did it all the same.”

“Good Lord,” she blinks, though it’s mostly for show. She simply can’t afford to pass an opportunity to redress the balance in their – friendship, she supposes, even though she would never call it that to Douglas’s face. “Are you actually agreeing with Herc?”

“I know, I know. The world must be about to end, and all that,” he shrugs, flicking a stray leaf from the sleeve of his uniform. “What I fear our brave First Officer failed to convey is the fact that, while you’re in no way required to wear your son’s gift, it would make a world of a difference not just to him, but to young Tiffany as well.”

Carolyn stares in the distance, considering the truth to Douglas’s words. She has spent virtually all her life completely unaware there was even a word to describe her own experience, and she might have never heard of it, had it not been for Arthur and his partner. Having recently had the displeasure of meeting Tiffy’s mother, she daren’t imagine how hard the girl had to fight to have her own identity acknowledged, never mind accepted; she thinks of her sister Ruth and her scathing comments about Carolyn’s perceived failings, and suddenly decides that, forget pride – spite is a powerful enough motivator, at least as far as she is concerned.

“Right,” she clears her throat. “Aromantic pride flag it is, then. At least I brought my green scarf with me this morning.”

“That’s the spirit,” Douglas grins, and makes to get up. “Shall we reconvene with the rest of the crew?”

She rummages into her bag, takes a deep breath, and pins the badge to the front of her shirt. “If any of the passengers dare to comment on this,” she starts, her chin raised in defiance.

“Should you need any help with disposing the bodies,” he throws at her over his shoulder. “You know where to find me.”

With that, they fall into step with one another, heading back towards where the main tourist attractions are. It’s not their first time in Pisa, not by any stretch of imagination, yet she can easily picture Arthur having the time of his life while some befuddled stranger takes that same old photograph of him ‘holding up’ the Leaning Tower with his hands. Or perhaps Tiffy managed to talk some sense into him, where everyone else has failed this far.

“Oh, and Douglas?” she breaks the silence, eventually, even as they spot Herc’s distinctive figure flitting in and out of the crowd a mere couple of yards ahead of them. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

They both know that’s not all she means, and she’s secretly relieved when Douglas has the decency not to directly address it. “Any time,” he nods, and waves to get Herc’s attention.

[max-is-tired]

And It’s Too Late (You Believe In Fate)

Pairing: Analogical, hinted Royality, brotherly Logicality

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy “Sleep” Sanders

Words: 1.549

Warnings: Some swearing, some very light Logan angst that lasts for like, two (2) paragraphs -past name-calling and bottling up his feelings, mostly- the rest is pure tooth-rotting fluff

Notes: IT’S APRIL 30th I AM NOT LATE- Hello everyone! This fic is part of an April exchange hosted on Discord, and this is my gift for @logicallycrofters -sorry it took me so much to get this out!! I hope you enjoy this fluffy Analogical, have some nerds being gay!!

Thanks to my amazing beta @tigertigertigger who makes sure the English language doesn’t kick my ass to hell and back, you’re the absolute best!!

Hit me up if you want to be added to the taglist and let me know if you liked this, reblogs, comments and asks are always very welcome and much appreciated! And if you consider buying this broke college student a coffee, you’ll have my eternal gratitude and a thank-you ficlet of your choice, so there’s that

Buy me a Coffee!!  Join my Discord server!!  Read it on AO3!!

Virgil knows something is wrong the moment he steps into the living room.

“... what?” he asks, slowly taking his headphones off and throwing a wary glance towards his two roommates -as great as an actor Roman can be, that excited grin is never a good sign and the amused glint in Remy’s eyes just serves to cement Virgil’s uneasiness.

“Virgil, my favorite Emo, my Dark and Stormy friend-” Roman starts, jumping down the couch with far too much pep for Virgil’s liking- “I have great news!”

Virgil blinks, clearly taken aback by Roman’s enthusiasm. “Nope-” he says, shaking his head and slowly stepping backward- “whatever you did, I want no part in it. Bye, auf wiedersehen, au revoir, ciao, I’m out of here.”

“Virgil, c’moooooon-” Roman whines- “at least hear me out! I promise it’s nothing awful.”

“Not by your standards, maybe,” Virgil grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“I really think you should hear him out, gurl,” Remy comments, always the helpful one, “I have a bet with Damien on how long will it take you to kill him, so please be a dear and settle it for us, mh?”

“Wait, why should I kill him?” Virgil asks, startled, before snapping his head towards Roman with a glare, “what the fuck did you do now, Princey?”

Roman looks at him like a deer caught in the headlights, enthusiasm now gone and replaced by a sheepish smile and a hint of fear in his eyes, “I assure you, it’s nothing bad or terrible-”

“Cut the chase, sir Sing-A-Lot,” Virgil hisses, eyes narrowing as he takes a threatening step forward, “Spill. Now.”

“I… might have set you up for a blind date? Tomorrow?”

“YOU DID WHAT??”

Remy sips contentedly at his coffee, watching with amusement as Roman lets out a yelp and bolts out of the room for dear life, Virgil not far behind.

This is going to be fun.

+++

Meanwhile, in another house not so far away from theirs, a similar scene is currently taking place.

“Lo, come on! It’s not that bad, is it?”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his annoyance at bay -he knows Patton only means well, but he still does not appreciate his brother going behind his back like that and setting him up for an activity he has not previously agreed upon.

“You want me to meet someone I know nothing about in the hopes that, during the outing, we develop some sort of… bond that could potentially develop in mutual romantic attraction?”

“Lo, you make it sound like we’re sending you off to meet a complete stranger!” Patton exclaims, features morphing into what Logan identifies as a pout, “Virgil is a good guy, I’ve met him a couple of times and I really think you two would get along great if given the chance.”

“Why do I suspect you will not let this go until I agree to this outing?”

“Pretty please?” Patton asks, bringing out his infamously adorable Puppy Dog Eyes™ -Roman’s words, not his. Still, even Logan finds himself unable to deny his brother’s pleading -and in all honesty, he's kinda curious about this Virgil he keeps hearing about.

He’s really going to agree to this, isn’t he?

Logan sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. “Very well then, I guess I will give this whole ‘blind date’ thing a chance -just one outing though!”

Patton lets out a squeal at Logan’s words, a grin spreading from ear to ear as he moves to tackle his brother in a hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you!!” he exclaims, far too enthusiastic for Logan’s liking, “I promise you won’t regret it!”

As Patton spins them around the living room, Logan can't help but feel his annoyance at his brother’s actions start to lessen, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

He may still not be sure about his opinion to the whole “blind date” ordeal, but if it’s going to make Patton happy then Logan is willing to give it a try.

Who knows, he might even end up enjoying himself.

+++

Virgil is having a dilemma.

What is new, you might say. Well, he’ll tell you what is fucking new. What is new is that there is a very fucking gorgeous guy sitting in front of him, sipping at his black coffee -same order as Virgil, a man after his own heart- while rambling animatedly about something astronomy-related, his eyes sparkling as he goes on with the subject.

Virgil’s little gay heart can’t take this, nope. He’s gonna have a fucking heart attack right here and now, all because apparently cute nerds are just what his last, lonely brain-cell needs to permanently fuck off into oblivion, leaving him completely unable to not make a fool out of himself.

To be completely honest, he doesn’t know if he wants to thank or murder Roman for setting this up.

“-rgil? Virgil, are you well?” Logan suddenly asks, dragging Virgil out of his internal gay crisis, “is this subject not of your interest? We can talk about something else if you would like.”

“No, no, it’s okay!” Virgil says, vehemently shaking his head in embarrassment, “I’m sorry I zoned out I just- I was not expecting to enjoy this ‘blind date’ thing so much, yeah.”

Logan blinks at him for a moment, clearly shocked by his words -having those blue eyes staring at him makes Virgil’s insides do one somersault after the other, cheeks blushing a pale red against his will.

“Neither did I, I suppose,” Logan finally admits, gaze shifting to the side as he takes another sip of his coffee, “honestly, I would have never agreed to this if it wasn’t for my brother insistence. He can be… quite persuasive, when he really wants to.”

Virgil lets out a quiet chuckle, nodding his head in understanding. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure no one can actually say no to Patton.”

“That is quite true,” Logan hums, a small smile tugging at his lips -why, hello there butterfly in the stomach, it’s been a while- “though I’m glad he tried so hard to convince me. I find myself quite enjoying this outing, even if I ended up losing myself in pointless ramblings more than once.”

“I don’t mind them!” Virgil blurts out, the words leaving his mouth before he can stop himself. “I mean, your ramblings, I don’t mind them. They’re- they’re interesting, and…”

“And?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow as Virgil trails off and looks away, blushing.

“I, I find it kinda cute,” Virgil admits with a mumble, cheeks beet red, “you get filled with this- this kind of quiet excitement, and your eyes just light up and, well, it’s really endearing.”

Logan finds himself at loss of words for the second time in less than five minutes, mind drawing a blank as he tries to process Virgil’s words.

During all of his life, Logan has heard all sort of commentary directed to himself and his mannerism. He has been called boring, cold, unemotional, too nerdy, too much, not enough. He has learned to live with it, to let the insults wash over him and just go on with his life. He has no time for those foolish people.

And now, for what feels like the first time in a long while, there is someone calling his tendency to ramble -something people have always belittled him for- endearing and, most surprisingly, cute.

Something warm and fuzzy starts blooming in Logan’s chest, and strangely enough, he doesn’t feel the need to grab those feelings and lock them in the darkest corners of his subconscious to never see the light of day again.

“I’m… glad you think so,” Logan finally hums, “there are very few people who would agree with you on that statement.”

“Then those people are idiots,” Virgil shrugs, leaning back on his chair as something determined burns in his gaze, “you’re a great guy, Logan, and anyone who isn’t able to see it must be a complete moron.”

“Thank you, Virgil,” Logan chuckles, cheeks warm as a small but sincere smile appears on his face, “I really appreciate it.”

After that, their conversation just flows, exchanging quips and the occasional chuckle filling the air.

What the two don’t notice, wrapped up as they are in each other, are the two figures inconspicuously staring at them from a table in the back of the coffee shop, twin grins on their faces as they watch the scene unfold.

“Ten dollars they kiss before the end of the date,” Patton whispers excitedly, barely keeping himself from letting out a squeal.

“Please, as if those two disasters would ever be able to make the first move,” Roman counters, trying to keep his laugh contained.

Patton raises an eyebrow, grin morphing into a smirk as he puts out his hand for the other to shake.

“Wanna bet?” he asks, winking.

Roman simply raises an eyebrow, his confidence unwavering as he firmly shakes his boyfriend's hand. “Deal.”

(And if Roman owes Patton ten dollars by the end of the night, well, he can’t really bring himself to care all that much -not when his friends look so content, staring into each other’s eyes with the softest smiles Roman has ever seen on both of their faces.)

[mwdders]

Second chances.

Summary: You and Tom broke up 2 years ago because of your busy lives, you being in a popular girl band, him with his filming schedule, things ended mutually but you still love him and he still loves you. When you randomly meet at a party, will fate bring you back together?

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: Swearing (?) implied smut, alcohol

Word count: 4.5K

A/N: In this you’re the fifth member of Little Mix. I know this is awful writing but it took me ages so I’m posting it anyways.

—

You were attending a party Ariana Grande was throwing, it was very rare you ever attended parties with your busy schedule but your manager insisted saying it was good opportunity for you and the other girls to socialise with other people in the industry.

You sigh as you finish your hair, you weren’t sure if it looked nice or not but you’d spent the time and effort curling it, so you weren’t bothering changing it now.

“Your hair looks fine before you ask.” Perrie says as she sits on the bed applying her lipstick.

“Thanks, I was thinking if it looked okay.” She rolls her eyes, “It looks gorgeous. Stop fretting.” You just nod and apply a lipstick to match what you were wearing, a black dress, black perspex heels and a red clutch bag.

“Are you both ready? The cars here.” You turn to the door and see Leigh-Anne, looking gorgeous in a yellow two piece. “Yeah we’re coming.”

You exit the room and walk down the stairs, your mood was clearly not the best and you didn’t mean for it be bad, but you weren’t much of a party person, you hated any social gatherings.

“Cheer up darling, tonight will be great.” Jade says as you slide in the back of the Uber. “I hope you’re right.” She smiles and grabs your hand squeezing it lightly.

-

The drive to Ariana’s was short but familiar as you’ve been to her house before, what wasn’t familiar was the sound of loud music and paparazzi all lined up outside her gates and a long queue of cars down the road.

When the cameras spot your car they try and force their cameras up to the windows and take photos of whoever is inside. The driver presses the intercom and you’re let in through the gates as security stand next to the car to ensure no paparazzi get through while the gates are open.

Once at the top of the drive you get out the car, thanking the driver. You sigh looking up at the big house, “Come on! Don’t be glum, we’re going to have a good night.” Jesy grabs your arm, linking it with hers and drags you into the party, being with Jesy was probably a bad decision because she knows how to party and is the complete opposite of you. “Jess please don’t make me drink.” You sigh as she grabs two champagne glasses off the table by the door. “Oh come on Y/N! At least one, settle your nerves.” She hands you the glass and you take, nodding in agreement that one drink probably wouldn’t hurt.

You all continue your walk through the big house, up the stairs and into the party, you spot Ariana and Jesy drags you over, her hand still tightly gripped to your forearm so you have no choice but to follow her.

“Ariana!” Jesy gets her attention and she smiles widely, “Jesy, Y/N! So nice to see you both. Are Leigh-Anne and Perrie here?” You return her hug, “Yes, they’re here somewhere.”Your voice came out a bit quieter than you would of liked but you brushed it off. “Well ladies, enjoy yourselves. The bar is out back and help yourself to anything from the buffet in the kitchen. Go mingle.” You smile at her as Jesy drags you away, “Oh Y/N! The dogs are in my room if it all gets too much.” She says with a wink, you smile widely, Ariana knew about how you didn’t do too well in social situations from when you were on tour together and how the dogs always helped calm you.

You loosen the grip Jesy had on your arm but stay close to her as she walks outside to where most of the people attending the party were.

There were a lot of familiar faces jumping out at you but some were strangers. You smile at a few people you know and say a few hello’s here and there but not really speaking to anyone, until someone grabs your arm and pulls you in a hug, you’re startled slightly and pull back as quick as you can until you see it’s Tom, “What not happy to see me?” You laugh and hug him this time, “I am, just wasn’t expecting you to be here.” He chuckles, “I mean- I could say the same about you. Seeing you at a major party was last on my list today.” You shrug, “Its a band thing.” You say, “Oh makes sense.”

You take in his appearance and he looks dashing in black jeans, black shoes and a white jumper. “How’ve you been?” Tom asks and you answer honestly, things had been hectic, especially since you last saw Tom nearly 2 years ago after your break up. “Mad, honestly, I’ve not stopped, I feel like I’ve been on the run for 2 years. My body’s on overdrive.” He frowns slightly, “You always were overworked.” He turns to look around the room, “Yeah I suppose.” He then looks back at you, “Come on, let me introduce you to some people I’m here with.” He grabs your hand and pulls you through the crowd.

You spot who he’s leading you to and you gulp, you recognised everyone he was about to introduce you to and you were nervous. “Y/N!” Harrison yelled, causing everyone to turn to you. “So nice to see you.” He hugs you, which causes you to relax a little more. “Yeah you too Harrison.” Tom squeezes your hand again and you turn to him. “Y/N this is Jacob, Zendaya, Sebastian, Chris and Anthony.” You wave lightly in their direction, “Nice to meet you all.” Zendaya laughs, “Oh no, not another English accent I can’t understand.” This makes everyone around you laugh, “Sorry I’ll try my best to pronounce my words clearly.” You smile at her and she returns the gesture. “Y/N what are you doing back in the states? Thought you were done over here for a while?” Harrison asks, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else as everyone returned to the conversations they were having before. “Oh well-so did I! But we’re over here filming a music video.” He nods, “Well it’s nice seeing you, to be honest since you and Tom broke up it’s been boring, you were the fun one.” He jokes causing you to really laugh because you know he didn’t mean it, you were far from the fun one, you were the shy, quiet, not very outgoing one.

The sound of your laugh causes Tom to look up at you, he can’t help but smile, that was one thing that made him love you more, your smile, your laugh, the way you wrinkled your nose when you laughed, and how your eyes shone, he never really did move on from you, he just jumped straight into a new relationship and then another one, and another one, until he finally got with Zendaya and he was happy, but she wasn’t you.

“How long you here for?” Harrison’s asks you, “Around 2 months, we have a lot of writing sessions scheduled too so that should be fun.” He nods before being asked something by Jacob and turning away from you. You stand there awkwardly as everyone is having a conversation and you’re just listening like an outsider.

You decided to walk through the crowd a little more, see if there’s anyone else you know, although you wouldn’t normally do this not being a party person you felt confident enough, knowing that that the girls wouldn’t be far away and also Tom and Harrison are here, it also gives you chance to think things over.

Seeing Tom really threw you off, you hadn’t seen him in 2 years and although your relationship ended mutually, he took some getting over and you’d barley done that. You’d had one other relationship in the last 2 years, and that barley lasted, you compared everything about that relationship to your relationship with Tom and it was hard.

You knew he was with Zendaya now though so you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that, you wanted to see him happy, you wouldn’t ruin his happiness for selfish reasons, plus he’d moved on, you couldn’t risk everything for him to potentially not love you anymore.

You smile as you pass a few more people you know but one person catches you eye more that anyone else and you walk over a wide smile on your face. “Well well, look what the cat dragged out.” You giggle as you jokingly hit his arm. “Y/N, what a pleasure.” He turns around and hugs you, “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon Mendes. You’ve only just left London.” He slings an arm around your shoulder, “Just can’t stay away from you.” You chuckle, “It’s nice to see a familiar face, even if it is a boring one.” He drops his arm and puts his hand on his chest, “Boring! How dare you.” He turns away faking hurt and you pull at his arm to turn him back, “You know I’m joking?” He crunches his nose but smiles at you, “Of course darling.” His eyes then dart across the room, “Oh you know your ex is here?” He points to Tom, “And he is eyeing you up.” You roll your eyes, “No he’s not. He’s with Zendaya.” Shawn sighs, “Yeah and does he look happy?” You turn in Tom’s direction and take in the image in front of you, Tom was leaning against a wall, Zendaya stood next to him, his hand linked with her’s but he wasn’t interacting with her, he was staring into space, as she spoke to Jacob, all he did was smile every now and then. “Seems to me, he wants you back.” Shaking your head you say, “No, he doesn’t.” You cross your arms over your chest, hugging them lightly, you needed a breather, “It was nice to see you Shawn but I’m gonna go inside for a bit.” You begin to walk away, “Hey, you okay? I didn’t mean to mention Tom, sorry if it upset you.” He says after you, “It’s okay.” You smile reassuringly but continue to walk inside, Tom notices you leaving, of course he did because all he’s done is keep his eyes on you since he knew you were here. He gives you a few minutes before following the way you went.

You make your way up to Ariana’s room, needing a minute, you tried to find the girls but no luck, tonight had gone completely different to how you thought it would, the party was surprisingly nice but seeing Tom really threw you off, you’d been in denial about still loving him but you knew now you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.

You unlock Ariana’s bedroom door and you are immediately met with Toulouse and Myron jumping up your legs, “Hi babies.” You step into the room more and they follow you as you sit on the bed. Myron jumps into your lap and Toulouse lies next to you, sighing contently you stroke them both, immediately relaxing.

Your feelings were everywhere, you couldn’t think anymore about Tom and also what Shawn said. Did Tom want you back? You’d only witnessed him with Zendaya for a few minutes but you couldn’t help linger over what Shawn said about him not looking happy, he really didn’t.

A knock on the door interrupts your train of thought, you place Myron on the bed and stand up walking to the door, you open it to find Tom on the other side. “Hey- I was er looking for you.” He scratches the back of his neck nervously, “Here I am.” You giggle opening the door wider, allowing him in and then shutting it again. “Is everything okay?” He asks, sitting down on the bed, “Yeah I just needed a minute, you know me, I’m no good in social situations.” You sit next to him and he places a hand on your thigh, “Yeah I know.” You move slightly, not sure how to read his actions. “I wanted to talk to you, about something- well ab-about us, actually.” You scrunch your face up at this, “Not to be straight forward but, I didn’t think there was an us anymore.” You keep your eyes on your hands in your lap as you play with your fingers, it was a good distraction from Tom’s hand on your thigh.

“I know, but I, erm I don’t know about you but I kind of want there to be an us again.” Your eyes go wide at his words, and your cheeks deepen, “Ar-are you serious?” For the first time you look up at him and his brown eyes are already staring deeply at you, “Very serious. I’ve not stopped thinking about you for the last 2 years, I kinda get the vibe you feel the same.” You gulp, “I do. Tom, I-I still love you, but I know you’re with Zendaya and I don’t want to ruin that for you.” He shakes his head as you speak, “That’s my problem.” He then looks from your eyes to your lips, and back to yours eyes, you nod, knowing he’s asking permission to kiss you. He smiles cheekily before pressing his warm lips against yours and you kiss him back, faster than ever before because you’ve missed his lips, the warm feeling kissing him gave you, the way he made your tummy tingle and your skin get hot, you’d missed him.

He pushes you lightly and you lie down on the bed, and he slips between your legs and you wrap them around his waist, and put your arms around his neck, this kiss was deepening quickly and you knew you couldn’t take if any further no matter how much you wanted to, “Tom.” You mumble as you break the kiss but he only kisses you again this time biting your bottom lip making you moan slightly. “We can’t, not here.” You pull away again, and he groans dropping his head into the nape of your neck, he kisses the spot his lips meet and you giggle. “We still need to talk properly.” You say and although you didn’t want to put a dampener on the mood, you wanted to be cautious about jumping straight back into something with him.

“I know.” He sits up next to you but pulls you up so you’re sat in his lap. “I need to end things with Zendaya,” he sighs, “You do and that’s one thing, but we also need to talk about, why we ended things before, how stressful it all was.” He kisses your temple, “Things are going to be different this time i can feel it. We wouldn’t of come back to each other if it wasn’t.” He was right and you always hoped after you broke you would somehow find your way back to each other. “I agree.” You look at him, as his hands slowly make their way down your back and to your bum, pushing you down into his lap even more, his hips meeting yours, making the sexual tension in the air rise even more, especially when you can feel his erection against your thigh.

“Tom, I’m serious when I say I am not having sex with you in my friends bed.” You laugh, but it soon turns into a moan when he rocks his hips against yours, “You sure?” You groan again as he lies down, allowing you to fully straddle him and basically be sat on him, placing your hands on his chest. “Yes.” You whimper, as much as you wanted to grind your hips against him and rip his jeans off and ride him there and then you couldn’t, not in a house full of people.”Your choice.” He rocks his hips one more time and it takes everything in you not to have sex with him, “It is my choice.” You stand up but regret it as you feel how wet your pants now are. “Wet for me angel?” He comments, remembering from your relationship how it only took a little bit of contact and you were soaked.

“Shut up.” You mumble, he laughs standing up, heading towards the bathroom, “Doors that way Tom?” You say and point towards the door. “I know but I’ve got to sort this out.” He points down and you blush, “Go ahead.” He shuts the door behind him and you leave the room, knowing full well if you sit and wait for him, hearing his moans, would tip you over the edge and you’d go into the bathroom and sort his problem for him, so you stand outside the door patiently.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you.” Perrie says as she see’s you stood outside the door, your eyes widen, Tom will be out in a minute and this is going to look completely wrong. “Sorry I needed a time out,” you say and try to grab the door handle behind your back but your too late as the door opens and Tom walks out, looking flustered but also you can tell

he’s been running his hands through his hair because it’s all messed up, looking like sex hair.

“Oh, Hey Perrie.” Tom says coolly, you groan, already seeing the look on Perrie’s face, “I see huh babe, you needed a time out.” She winks at you, “Pez it’s not like that.” She smirks, “Really? Cause he doesn’t have sex hair and your dress isn’t creased, no it’s not like that.” She comments but places her hands out, “In the end, it’s none of my business.” Tom wraps an arm around your waist from behind you and Perrie practically squeals, “Does this mean you’re back together?” You look up at Tom and he looks down at you, “Provisionally.” You let go of Tom as you hear footsteps coming up the stairs, you turn and lock Ariana’s bedroom door, putting the key back where you found it.

You smile as other guests pass by you, “I’m gonna go, find Harrison.” You look up at Tom, “Okay.” He glances around to make sure no one’s coming before he grabs your face in his hands and kisses you again, “Love you.” He mumbles which causes you to blush as he lets you go and makes his way down the stairs, disappearing from sight. “Perrie you can’t say anything to anyone.” You say before she can even say anything. “I know pet. I promise I won’t. But tell me, how do you feel about all this?” She asks and as she does you feel all warm inside thinking about actually being back together with Tom. “I’m so happy. Really, I- I didn’t think we’d work again but he kissed me and I felt everything fall into place. I’ve been so out of sync with myself these last 2 years and I think he was the reason why, I didn’t have him by my side.” You gush about Tom and you feel like a school girl with a crush. “I’m so happy for you’s.” She says and leans to hug you. “I always knew you were right for each other.” You giggle, “I hope so.” You stand up and make your way downstairs, following Perrie back into the party, you head straight outside and she heads for the bar.

The warm air hits you and you look around, you notice Tom talking to Harrison and you can’t help but smile. You walk over to the table where all the drinks are and you make a vodka and coke, taking a long gulp from the cup, you don’t notice Harrison stood behind you. “Someone tells me you’ve been up to no good.” You turn around at his words, “Shut up Haz.” You kaugh, “No, jokes aside I’m glad you’re back together. I like Zendaya, she’s a great friend but I think that’s all she’ll ever be to him; a friend.” You cant help but stare at him, watching his every move. “I hope so, I want to be with him again, so badly. He’s everything to me, it just took me 2 years to realise.” You smile at Harrison, “I’m glad you did realise though. I’ve already noticed a change in him, in just this last hour alone.” You blush and look down at your cup. “Oh he’s coming over, act natural.” Harrison jokes, “What are you two talking about?” He asks, standing next to you, “Oh nothing, just you.” You comment, “Really?” His eyebrow rises. “Yeah just how you’re perfect for me and I’m never letting you go again.” He’s cheeks turn pink and he smiles at you, “Couldn’t agree more darling.” He then notices Zendaya’s by herself for the first time, “I’m going to go and have an awkward conversation.” He coughs before walking over to her and sitting on the patio chair.

—

The party was nearing an end and you’d not seen Tom since your conversation with him and Harrison, in fact you hadn’t seen Harrison either. You were sat in the living room with the girls waiting for your car, you waited to find Tom and tell him you were leaving but your time was running out.

“Cars here.” Leigh-Anne says as she tiredly stands up, leaning on Jade for support. “You guys go, I’m just going to find someone and say bye.” None of them question you apart from mumbling for you to hurry up and not be too long.

You walk outside and thankfully see Tom with Jacob and Harrison, “Tom!” You shout gently across the patio, he turns to you and you wave, he smiles and excuses himself before walking over to you. “Hey darling, didn’t think you were still here.” He leans in for a kiss which surprises you, and you pull back, “Tom there are people around.” You put a hand on his chest, “There are but what’s the harm in me kissing my girl?” You eye him slightly, “You broke up with Zendaya?” He nods, “There wasn’t really anything to end, she knew things were mostly platonic and it ended nicely, I told her about you so things didn’t seem weird and she was really happy for us.” You bite your lip as you look up at him, “Really?” All he does is nod before kissing you, causing wolf whistles to sound from Harrison and Jacob. “Give it a rest you guys!” Harrison yells, causing you to pull away from Tom and laugh. “Dude.” Tom scolds as he wraps his arms around you pulling you into him.

You pull away from Tom, “I only came to say goodbye, me and the girls are leaving now.” He kisses your forehead and bobs his head, whispering in your ear, “Come back to mine.” You nod straight away without even thinking. “I’ll text the girls.”

You: to Perrie Edwards

I’m staying at Tom’s so go home without me, see you tomorrow babe xx

“Done, you ready to go now? Because these shoes are killing me.” You comment, “I am yeah. Harrison, let’s go. Jacob, see you tomorrow man.” Tom points at Jacob and they do a bro handshake mid air, some weird shit you’d never seen before, you shake your head at their antics and start walking away, dragging Tom with you, although once you exit through the front door you have to follow him because you have no clue how you’re getting back to his. “I called an Uber already so it should be here.” You cling to his hand as you walk down the hill to the gates, it was late now so there were no paparazzi outside which was nice for a change.

You see a black Range Rover pulled up and Harrison jumps in the front and you and Tom jump in the back, Harrison tells the driver the address and you’re soon driving down the streets of L.A.

“Baby.” Tom shakes you lightly and your eyes flutter open, you look around and see you’re still in the back of the car, “We’re here, you fell asleep.” You shuffle out the car, and lean against Tom you didn’t even realise you’d fallen asleep. “Thanks mate.” Harrison says to the driver as Tom unlocks the door, to his house.

It was just how you remembered, big white fence, black door, big windows, a table by the front door, with a photo of him and his parents and another of him and his brothers, one of Tessa and one of you and him, you pick it up and smile, “You kept this?” Your voice is quiet, “Of course I did.” He chucks his keys in the bowl and walks down the hall, leaving you to smile at the photo.

You follow his actions and walk down the hall to the kitchen, you’re shocked slightly when you get him talking funny, until you turn the corner and see Tessa sat by his feet.

“Oh my god.” You say and she immediately runs to you, jumping all over you, you sit down and she leaps into your lap, “Hi Tess.” You scratch her ears and kiss her head as she licks your face, you’d missed her almost as much as you’d missed Tom.

“How?” You turn to look at him, “I didn’t think she lived with you here.” He smiles as his dog gushes over you, “She didn’t. But after we broke up, I spent more and more time out here and I couldn’t live without her so I bought her out here and this is where she lives now.” You stand up and walk over to him, “I’m so happy.” He wraps his arms around you, “Me too.” You kiss his cheek before walking away and down the corridor, “Where are you going?” He questions, “To bed, I don’t know about you but I am tired!” You walk up the stairs and into the room you remember is Tom’s, again it was still the same, big bed with crisp white sheets, hard wood floors, with matching furniture, very simple but very Tom.

You unzip your dress and step out of it, taking your heels off and tying your hair up, you sigh and walk over to the drawer, taking out one of his t-shirts, “Oh I see how it is, make yourself at home love.” Tom says as he stands in the doorway watching you, “It’s like I never left.” You slip the material over your head and jump into bed, he laughs at you but follows suit, undressing down to his boxers, turning the light out and then joining you.

“This is nice, I love you. I’m so glad you came back to me.” He lays beside you, arms around your waist, head nuzzled into your neck, “I love you too. ” You snuggle down deeper into him, feeling sleep take over, you were happy again, in Tom’s arms, finally feeling at one with the world.

—

This is shitty I know, don’t hate me

[vikinglanguage]

for the asks: #s 4 6 8 9 10 & 11!

4. How old were you when you first started learning a second language? What language was it?When I was 9, I started mandatory English in school. Even before that I knew a few very basic phrases, and I distinctively remember telling my mum “I love you” when I was like 6, and her saying “I love you too”, which then stuck with me.Even before that, my sister taught me to say “me llamo Amalie” and “¿cómo te llamas?”, when we went to Spain when I was 5 years old, but that was the only Spanish I knew from ages 5 to 15.

6. What’s something you have a hard time expressing in your target language(s)?Oh, like, everything. My primary target language is currently German, but I’m also keeping Spanish in mind here.I think what really frustrates me about language is that I generally just really don’t enjoy small talk. Like, to me a good conversation is about culture, politics, linguistics, literature, things I find interesting. And I just never get to a level where I can talk about those subjects, because I NEED to have a certain base level before I get to that. In order to conjugate verbs and remember to use the right definite article I need to practice it, but I’m just not interested in repeating sentences like “sie sieht den Vogel” or “tenía cinco años”. Unfortunately that is a stage I need to pass before learning more complex vocabulary, because first I have to start utilising the vocabulary that I have already.Yes, I know that as someone learning on my own, I am very much in charge of which order I learn things in, but I think that really, my main problem is that I have yet to find an order that fits my needs.I’m just so god damn annoyed that I can’t seem to figure it out, because clearly I must’ve gotten something right when I was learning English, especially after ages 12-13.

8. Are you a grammar snob in your native language(s)?Somewhat. While I largely think that the grammar rules should be adapted to fit a language as it currently is, there are just some things that annoy me. And I will correct people on those things, if I know that it’s an opening to poke fun around grammar or other language things, or just to exasperate my mum.For an example, in Danish we have the difference between “hans/hendes” and “sin”, which I think is a really good an useful difference, that also plays nicely into the concept of “sig”, and I would prefer to preserve that as part of the Danish language. Likewise, I think it’s a great shame that a word such as “hin” (an old word equivalent to “that” (actually I guess somewhat like “yon” or spanish “aquél”), nowadays we just use “den” for both “this” and “that”)However, I will never correct the grammar of someone who has made it clear that they might struggle with grammar for whatever reason, or really, just anyone whom I don’t know that well and didn’t ask for correction. Unsolicited grammar advice sucks, unless you’re gently bullying your sibling or Austrian flatmate.

9. Language pet peeve?I have so many, most of them related to Danish. A lot of them are just people not being able to, you know, speak.-saying hångklæde instead of håndklæde or promade instead of pomade-using syntes and synes interchangeably (syntes is past tense of synes)-messing up hans/hendes vs sin-people saying et hamster instead of en hamster-people who say that meme is intetkøn, because fuck you its fælleskøn and I do not take constructive criticism.-people who claim that “English is actually one of the hardest languages to learn!”, shut up, you barely have any grammar worth speaking of and your sentence structure is so straightforward it’s almost laughable. Sure, the spelling is awful, but have you seen Danish? Have you HEARD French? If you speak a romance or germanic language I very much doubt that English is hard.-PEOPLE WHO MAKE FUN OF THE ACCENTS OF STRANGERS. SHUT UP. AT LEAST THEY’RE TRYING TO SPEAK YOU’RE LANGUAGE WHICH IS PROBABLY MORE THAN CAN BE SAID ABOUT YOU.-people from the south of Spain. Stop that. There’s an s there. Please say the s. I beg of you. It’s right there. Spanish is supposed to be easy to pronounce. THE S IS RIGHT THERE.-when someone claims I’m not pronouncing a Danish word correctly because I don’t speak what would be the Danish version of RP.-generally people thinking dialects are bad (nb: yes, there’s a lot to unpack with pet peeves and dialects vs. the “correct” version of a language, i know, i know, i know)-people who think I’m being aggressive because I don’t use emoji’s when texting-people claiming that text can’t even come close to conveying emotion and meaning in the same way that speech canI could probably make this ten miles long if I wanted, but I’m gonna have to call it quits here.

10. What’s your opinion on learning dead languages?I think it’s so fucking cool. Hebrew was a dead language until someone thought to revive it. I say it’s time we bring back Punic. Or something. Idk, I think learning dead languages is a really interesting concept, seeing as the insight it gives into long gone cultures and just the concept of speaking a language that NO ONE is a native speaker of? win. Who’s to say you’re wrong? The scholars? Were they alive in 200 AD, I don’t think so.

11. Who is one person (famous or not) that is a language-learning inspiration for you?Both of my parents, as well as my sister. All three speak fluent English and are somewhat conversational in German, and my mother can somewhat get by in Spanish, Italian and French.My Austrian flatmate who of course speaks German (both standard and her own western Austrian dialect WHICH IS VERY DIFFERENT), English, has good French comprehension and is well on the way to learning Danish.I hate to go on and on about MIKA on every single one of my blogs, but MIKA, being fluent in English, French and Italian (arguably Spanish, depending on who you ask), having picked up Italian just like, along the way. I really like the fact that he writes texts not just in English, but in French as well, and, as of more recently, Italian.Following that thread, I appreciate people who write pop in their native tongue. Not everything has to be English, I mean Denmark won Eurovision with Dansevisen because it was A GOOD SONG. Not because anyone knew what the fuck the text was about, but because THE MUSIC was good. Also I cried on the bus the first time I listened to Elsker Dig Mer by Oh Land, because it just hit so much harder than Love You Better. Why didn’t the hard rock barefoot fire Hungarians win ESC 2018? Evades me.

[allinlowercase]

If I Could Tell Him - Chapter Three

Chapter Three - At the Beginning

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: Alaska hadn't intended to be slingshot back into 1960. Life doesn't always live up to our intentions. When she and her friend Jackie are supposedly hit by Paul's car, they are by chance swept into the Beatle's orbit. But while Alaska struggles to reconcile her lost future and past, Jackie is unable to contain her excitement.

A/N: Hello there *swings comically elaborate candelabra around* welcome to my fic. Thank you for reading! If you see anything that’s inaccurate in this series please don’t hesitate to let me know. I like to think I do a good job of researching my shit, but I am only human.

January 18th, 1963

I startled awake at the sound of a brisk knock on wood. Looking up from my place in a highly uncomfortable chair, I saw a nurse making her way towards Jackie's bed; I must've dozed off. After determining that I was in surprisingly exceptional shape for being hit by a car, the doctor decided that I could handle the news that Jackie was faring much worse than I. She suffered from fractures in her left clavicle and femur, and the bruises that covered her were still purpling. Although everyone thought Paul'd hit us with his car, I knew that Jackie could've been injured much worse from that semi. Whatever God had saved me from extensive injury had also saved Jackie's life.

The nurse smiled at me from the other side of Jackie, and as she started to check her vitals I untangled myself from a plastic bedside chair, pulling my legs down from their perch on the side of Jackie's bed. "How is she?" I asked when the nurse had finished. She'd been Jackie's nurse for a few days now; her name was Mary. Mary offered me another light smile.

"She's improving, little by little. She just needs to be resting and getting her strength back up. How are you this morning, is there anything I can get you?" she asked. I'd kept up a near-constant vigil for Jackie, and the hospital staff had been exceptionally lax on me. There were, of course, the factors that I didn't have anywhere else to stay, and that Jackie was in a critical condition. But I also came away with the feeling that the hospital staff in this unit were just very kind people. Mary had been amazing while she was Jackie's nurse, and all the other nurses seemed happy and eager to be just as kind. I especially liked the doctor, Dr. Taylor, who'd managed to miraculously check by for Jackie every time she happened to be awake.

I shot her back a smile, a small one. "If you could perhaps bring me some coffee? That would be great," I asked softly. There wasn't always coffee left in the nurse's office, but Mary nodded and promised to be back, passing Paul on her way through the doorway. I hadn't expected him to do as much as he had for us. He visited every other day or so; whenever he did Jackie would sometimes be up. She, of course, thought she was having fever dreams, and I didn't see much point in correcting her yet. She was still fragile.

When Paul found that I only had about forty dollars between us (which as it turns out, can get us pretty far) he offered to help pay. He also offered his couch from his living room and a few other things: would I like him to bring by dinner? The food in the hospital can't be that great. Was I sure I wasn't cold? My shirt looked awfully thin and the hospital, as a rule, was pretty chilly, besides it being the wintertime. Would Jackie and I enjoy sitting in on a session of his band, when she was out of hospital? He already knew that Jackie recognized him and was a fan; she looked at him the way Mary must have looked at Gabriel - terribly confused and maybe a little frightened, but in intense awe.

I hadn't taken up a lot of them; I knew he felt guilty for the idea of having hit us with his car, which he obviously thought caused Jackie's injuries. I don't know, maybe he was partly responsible. But I did know that he hadn't broken Jackie's femur, and that combined with her being in such a bad state had fueled me to refuse his offers of a couch and going out for food. To him, it was an offer to get my mind away for a little bit, but that didn't seem right to me.

"Hello," he started, raising his hand in a little wave. He pulled up the only other vacant chair in the room. "How is she?" he asked, crossing his legs. I shrugged.

"Well, she's been able to stay awake for longer periods now, but it's followed by almost equal bouts of sleep. I don't know if that's better or worse. Mary said she was doing better, in terms of vitals. I think she's getting more lucid too, she's remembering conversations better," I offered. He nodded and rubbed his jawline. Jackie rustled around in the bed next to us and I looked over to see her awake. I offered a small smile, which she tried to return, although the bruising on her cheek caused her obvious pain.

"Hey there Alaska." I reached out and squeezed her right hand, which had remained fairly unbruised. "Hi, fever dream Paul." He nodded, trying to hold back a nervous chuckle. He found it almost funny how little Jackie believed that it was him. "Has Taylor been by? I haven't seen him in a while."

"You saw him this morning," I reminded her; she wasn't the best at tracking time yet. She stuck her tongue out at me.

"Fuck you man, that is a while," she muttered, digging her head into her pillow, trying to make a comfier notch. In the beginning, I couldn't tell if Paul was bothered by Jackie's swearing, but I think he was just surprised. Now he snorted.

"In a manner of sorts, I suppose it's a while," he offered in defense. There was another crisp knock at the door. I turned to see Mary proudly entering with a mug of coffee. Paul raised his eyebrow as I cradled it for a second before taking a sip. "Are you sure that's a good idea Alaska? It's already six at night."

I shrugged. "I'll be up for a little while, besides I just slept. I don't want to be groggy." Paul sent me a disapproving side-eye.

"I worry, about you sleeping in that chair every night and eating mostly from the hospital. It's doing you a disservice, I think. You know I've room at home," he offered. I shrugged and felt Jackie's eyes on me.

"I don't spend every night in this chair. Sometimes, I manage to find a couch in a waiting room," I replied like that made a difference, pausing to blow on the coffee. "Besides, the food is not that bad, I'm not expecting Gordan Ramsey." Paul looked confused at my accidental pop culture slip but didn't address it. I cursed myself. Memo to work on that.

"Alaska no," Jackie piped up from her spot on the bed. I looked over at her, sheepish. I hadn't really discussed this with Paul in front of Jackie before. "I'm bedridden, not dead and I'm not going anywhere. If you're trying to tell me that I'm your excuse to not go home with Paul fucking McCartney, I will beat your ass."

I snorted. "You'll beat my ass? You'll beat my ass right from that hospital bed?" She glared at me in response.

"I'm serious. I don't want you to sacrifice your own well being because of me. I'll feel like shit for it. I want you out of this room tonight, or else I will grab you by the neck and shove you down a shower drain. Do you hear me?" Paul looked a little perturbed by the scope of the threat, but I lifted both my palms up in defeat, not exactly thrilled to be sharing a living space with a stranger. Jackie was right though; I wasn't taking care of myself.

Our conversation went on for a little longer before Mary came back with Jackie's dinner, and shooed us out at her request. I pulled on a cardigan and jacket that Paul had brought me from his house and started my exit from the hospital with him. We started on the sidewalk towards his house.

Feeling otherwise awkward, I started humming. Paul looked at me queerly. "That's quite catchy; you come up with that yourself?" he asked. I paused, panicking for a moment as I realized it was the guitar melody from Miss You.

"Um, maybe? I think I've heard it somewhere, though I can't remember where. Been driving me nuts," I offered, trying to sound as vague and honest as possible. I could lie somewhat well, but I usually needed time to prepare for it; I wasn't an on the spot type. He seemed to accept that though, and we continued walking, making some genuinely pleasant conversation. Paul expressed frustration over his commute from home to the studio, and I told him about my own hometown.

I wasn't sure how to be here without changing anything later on. That sounded silly to me, the idea that I could change the future, but I realized that I very well could. I could try to Yesterday someone's ass and steal their song or a novel. I could hand Paul the lyrics to his most beloved songs right now and go for a writing credit. Hell, I could potentially stop Revolution No. 9 from making its way out into the world if Paul's guilt kept me around that long. It was constantly hitting me, the power of time travel. But taking someone else's work seemed seedy, and I wasn't down for it, so I tried not to do stuff like that: humming songs that don't exist yet.

We reached what I supposed was his family's home. It was pretty, with brickwork and hedges around where the yard met the sidewalk. Pretty standard I supposed; admittedly, I don't know much about English architecture.  As Paul opened the door and let me in, we were met by the call of a man.

"Paul, come in the kitchen," the voice directed, stern but not unkind. Paul shrugged off his coat, hanging it on a coat rack, and offering to take his jacket back too. I followed him into a small yet cozy kitchen, where a young man was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, and an older man stood at the stove. Squinting, I could see the date on the newspaper read 18 January 1963. I kept forgetting what day it was, though I know I asked Mary more than once.

The young man looked up from his newspaper and made a grunt in surprise. He folded it loudly and stood to offer his hand. I took it and shook as he introduced himself.

"Hello there, I'm Mike, this sod's brother. Welcome to the McCartney residence."