#it’s really incomprehensible though that’s what the ask box is there for <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yuujispinkhair · 3 years ago

Text

The songs you grow to like never stick at first (Chapter 5)

Chapter 1 ++ Chapter 2 ++ Chapter 3 ++ Chapter 4

Falling for your best friend is a blessing and a curse at the same time, especially when it’s painfully obvious that your friend doesn’t feel the same. So what is Yuuji supposed to do? He doesn’t want to lose you but also can’t help wanting to get out of the friendzone. Maybe his other friends can help him. Or he just has to wait because sometimes the songs that become our all-time favorites are the ones that don’t stick at first.

Pairing: Yuuji x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, fluff, my attempt at humor, friends to lovers Word Count: 3.5k Playlist: College AU Warnings: 18+, slow burn, a lot of cheesiness, pining, unrequited love in the beginning, alcohol, masturbation, sex dreams. Cheating (but NOT Yuuji or reader!! Naoya cheats on reader). All characters are of age. The story and my blog contain 18+ content, so minors don't interact.

Chapter 05: A rivalry goes so deep between me and this loss of sleep over you (Part 2)

The weeks pass. You are in romantic heaven with your boyfriend. And Yuuji is in heartbreak hell, with dark circles under his eyes and the emotional baggage of the frontman of an emo band.

He's officially a member of the boxing club now, spending more and more time at the gym to let his anger out on the punching bag that he calls Naoya in his mind.

You keep telling Yuuji about your dates with the Zenin heir, oblivious to the pain it causes him. He has to put a stop to it though the moment you start talking about your and Naoya's sex life.

"Can you please not?!! I don't want to know these things!"

"Hey, that's not fair! You tell me everything about your bedroom adventures too, Mr. Too much information."

Yuuji throws up his hands in exasperation. He knows you are right. Unfortunately, he seems to lack that gene that is responsible for feeling ashamed, so he always goes into too much detail anytime he shares his sex tales with his friends. Guilty as charged.

"Ah, dammit! But that was ages ago!! I haven't even had sex in months!"

"And maybe that's the problem! You need to get laid, Yuu!"

You have a point. But the problem is that the only person Yuuji wants to get sexy with is you. But, of course, he can't say that, so he just makes an incomprehensible noise and changes the topic.

He is relieved when a few weeks later, you pull a face while stirring your iced coffee listlessly, sighing as you rest your chin on your hand and announce:

"Naoya has to go on a business trip. He's leaving in an hour, and I already miss him. Those gonna be the worst three days!"

No, that's wrong! Those are going to be the best three days if you ask Yuuji!

He feels energetic despite his lack of sleep and the physical exertion from last night's boxing training. This is great! The sun shines brighter all of a sudden, and his coffee hasn't tasted this good in months!

Yuuji can't help but smile while walking next to you, accompanying you to your first class of the day, just like he does every morning. There's a new spring in his step now that some of the weight got lifted off his shoulders.

An hour later, when he's sitting in acting class, waiting for his turn to portray a Yakuza leader, the guilt catches up with him. He shouldn't feel happy about your annoyance that your boyfriend is away. He's a horrible friend!! How can he smile and celebrate the fact that you miss the guy you are in love with??

Yuuji is on the brink of punching himself and only gets saved from making an absolute fool of himself because his name gets called for the next performance.

Half an hour later, he walks out of class with loud praise from his professor.

"Itadori, that was an outstanding performance. I could practically feel the anger! You really got into the role! Keep up the good work."

Hysterical laughter bubbles up in Yuuji's chest. It seems like method acting is his way to a possible movie star career, huh? He will have to mention Nayoa in his thank-you speech when he receives an Oscar.

He can't stop laughing all the way to the cafeteria, earning himself raised eyebrows and giggles. Yuuji just rolls his eyes when he realizes it and lifts his left hand to show some of the guys from the volleyball team his middle finger.

He doesn't have time for this. He has to find you and make sure to make the best of the next three days, where he can have you all to himself again! And after all, he is your best friend, and it's literally his job to keep you company and keep you busy, so you won't wallow in self-pity and lose your mind over longing for your man all the time. Yuuji's motives are totally pure!!

Another chuckle escapes his mouth. The mix of lack of sleep and giddy anticipation to take you to the mall and eat ice cream with you is gradually turning him into a lunatic. But Yuuji can't be bothered at the moment. He bursts into the cafeteria with a bright sunshine smile and an excited:

"Finish your tea, princess! I'm taking you to the mall!"

And the loud laugh and happy sparkle in your eyes he receives in return are even more reasons to be a bit crazy.

Three nights later, Yuuji jolts up when his phone blares loudly on the pillow next to his ear. He groans. For once, he fell asleep early. The lack of sleep finally got the better of him, and he felt so at ease after having you all to himself for three days that sweet sleep claimed him.

He was even having a particularly nice dream of you straddling his lap, your hands in his hair, while you were slowly riding him, moaning his name and whispering sweet love confessions in his ear. It was the perfect wet dream!

Until his stupid phone ruined it!

Yuuji sits up and looks around groggily. His brain is too fuzzy, but his hand finds his phone and lifts it to look at the screen. His eyes widen.

Why are you calling him at 00:13?

"Hey! What's up? Are you ok?"

Your voice sounds strange, when you answer him:

"Yuu... Are... are you up?"

Yuuji is completely alert in an instant, the sleepy confusion and the horniness gone completely. Something happened! He can hear it in your voice! Worry washes over him.

"What's wrong? Where are you?"

Yuuji's already out of bed while speaking, balancing the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he's jumping into his grey sweatpants. He has to go wherever you are! He can tell that you aren't ok, even when you didn't say it yet. You need him!

"I.. can you.. can you please come pick me up?"

"Of course! Already on my way. Tell me where you are!"

He only hears a shaky sob, and it makes his heart drop. You sound like you are crying. Yuuji is scared. Cold fear has its chokehold on him. What happened to you? He has to get to you right now!

He's stumbling over his backpack, cursing loudly, before finding his shirt from yesterday lying on the floor next to his desk. He shrugs hastily into it while listening to your thick voice giving him instructions:

"I'm downtown... you know that street corner near our McDonald's and the karaoke bar?"

Fuck. So you were with Naoya tonight? His apartment is near that location. Yuuji's worry is laced with anger now. What did that asshole do to make you cry and call Yuuji in the middle of the night? And why the hell are you out there all alone? That's dangerous! It's the middle of the night!

"I'll be there in a few minutes! Don't hang up, ok? Stay on the phone with me."

He puts the call on speaker so he can pull his red hoodie over his head, not caring how messy his hair is or that he puts on two different colored socks. All that Yuuji can think about is you!

He quickly jogs out of his room, grabbing the car keys on his way out, and almost falls down the stairs because he's struggling to put on his sneakers while running and also holding his phone in one hand.

But he manages to arrive on the street in one piece and sprints over to his car. Well, technically it's Fushiguro's car. But he lets his friends use it too because he's embarrassed about being the kid from the rich family and feels better about it if he shares his privileges.

Yuuji throws his phone into the center console as he slams the door shut and then hastily starts the car. The car audio starts blaring loudly, making him jump.

This is side one, flip me over. I know I'm not your favorite record. The songs you grow to like never stick at first. So, I'm writing you a chorus, and here is your verse!

"Oh dammit! Not that song again!"

Junpei must have used the car before him. Yuuji swears and turns the stereo off as he quickly backs out of the parking spot. He knows he's driving too fast, but he can't bring himself to care. He has to get to you as quickly as possible!

You were probably right when you joked about Yuuji being your personal knight in a red hoodie. He is so worried and just wants to be by your side and make sure you are safe. He can still hear your sniffles, and it tugs at his heart.

"I'm driving now. Hey, can you tell me what happened?"

"I... I wanted to surprise Naoya. It was stupid... I don't know. He texted me that he's back from his business trip and that he'll just go to bed and we should meet for breakfast...but I... god, I am so dumb! I thought, hey, why not pay him a surprise visit to celebrate him coming back home...I.. arrived in front of his apartment and I..."

Your explanation gets interrupted by a muffled sob. Yuuji grinds his teeth, his hands are grabbing the steering wheel in a death grip. But he tries to sound calm for you, be the safe place you need right now.

"It's ok, take your time. I'm almost there. What happened at his apartment?"

It starts raining now, and the cars in front of him slow down, making Yuuji almost lose his mind. He glares at the red light that dares to keep him away from you. It's torturous having to listen to your tearful voice telling him about your night while he is caught in the car here and not able to pull you into his arms and comfort you.

The engine howls loudly once the traffic light turns green again and Yuuji presses down on the gas pedal impatiently. Only a few more blocks!

Your voice fills the car and there's so much pain in it that it makes Yuuji's own eyes tear up.

"Naoya.. he was walking out of the door with some other woman. I... I thought maybe it was just his co-worker and nothing more. But.. but.. they kissed."

"Oh fuck!"

"He... he held her hand and smiled at her, and then he kissed her. Like a real kiss! On the mouth...and it... It was just like he.. just like he usually kisses me. I don't know what to do. I ran away before he could see me. And now I'm sitting here and crying and being a dumb bitch!"

Yuuji smacks his hand onto the steering wheel. God, if Naoya was here right now, he would get a taste of Yuuji's fist. Yuuji hates that guy! Really hates him! How can he hurt you like that? Doesn't he see how lucky he is to have you!? How can he cheat on you?

"He's such an asshole! God! Please, you aren't dumb! HE is the one who's the dumb bitch!"

Yuuji has almost reached your destination now. He spots a parking space and quickly pulls the car over, almost scratching against a tree. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except you! He's out of the car at light speed, jogging down the rainy street to the corner where he knows you are waiting for him.

He almost stumbles over your outstretched legs as he turns into the dark side street. You are sitting on the stairs in front of a tea shop, looking up at him with tears running down your face, looking so heartbroken and miserable.

Yuuji crouches down in front of you, placing his hands on your knees, gently rubbing them. His voice is soft and warm, talking to you like he would to a scared animal. His need to comfort you and soothe your hurt is almost overwhelming.

"Hey, I'm here. It's gonna be ok. I got you, sweetheart."

He can feel you trembling beneath his hands, from the cold or the anxiety or a mix of both.

"Yuu..."

Your voice sounds so weak. That's enough! Yuuji can't take it anymore. He reaches out with a murmured:

"Come here.."

He pulls you into his strong arms, feeling you slump against him. You sniffle and press your face against his chest as your arms wrap around him, clinging desperately to him.

Yuuji rocks you in his arms, whispering some stupid little things to you, anything to comfort you and reassure you.

"Shh, it's ok, sweetie... it's ok. You can cry if it helps you, ok? I'm here. I won't leave. I'll look after you."

It breaks Yuuji's heart to see you like this, your tears soaking his hoodie, sobbing against his chest and your fingers clutching tightly to his back.

He feels a bit helpless, not really knowing what to do, so he just does what his instincts tell him. Holding you and letting you cry, stroking your back soothingly, and keeping you tugged safely under his chin, pressed tightly against his broad chest, wrapped in his strong arms where you are safe and hopefully a bit warmer.

After a while, Yuuji feels you relaxing in his arms. Then, finally, you lift your head to look at him with puffy eyes.

"Th.. thank you for coming here. I'm so sorry for waking you up, Yuu."

"Of course, I came here. Please don't apologize. I told you I'll always pick you up, no matter where you are or what time it is. There is nothing to be sorry for."

His eyes scan you worriedly. Of course, he has seen you having breakdowns over university or when you had trouble with some girls from your dorm. But it was never anything like this. Yuuji has never seen you crying so much, and it pains him to know you are so distraught.

"Let's get you home, ok?"

You blink at him through wet lashes and nod softly. Yuuji gives you an encouraging smile and then pulls you to your feet. He cannot let go of you, though. He definitely spoke the truth when he said that he's overprotective when it comes to you. And so one of his large hands stays on the small of your back.

He sees you shivering, looking so miserable that it breaks his heart even more. Yuuji realizes that you are drenched from the rain. He doesn't even think about it but is already pulling his red hoodie over his head and handing it to you.

"Here, put that on, please. Don't want you to catch a cold."

You don't even try to turn his offer down, which means you are really a mess right now. Yuuji's chest feels too tight. He puts an arm around you and pulls you against his side to offer you more of his warmth as he gently steers you towards where he parked Fushiguro's car.

On the drive home, Yuuji can't stop himself from looking over at you repeatedly to check on you. You're leaning your head against the cold car window, staring out into the rainy night, looking so lost, hugging yourself and sniffling occasionally.

It's a heartbreaking sight, and Yuuji's need to comfort you almost drives him crazy. It pains him to see you like this! You deserve happiness and love, and warmth. Not this shit! Soaked to the skin, shivering from the cold, and crying from a broken heart.

Yuuji reaches out to put a hand on your thigh, right above your knee, gently squeezing it. He hates that he has to drive and can't hug you and keep you warm. But he has to get you home safely and make sure to get you into dry clothes as soon as possible. So his hand on your thigh will have to do at the moment. At least a little bit of physical comfort.

Your hand lands on top of Yuuji's immediately, grabbing it tightly, so desperate for his comforting touch. The car swerves slightly to the right as Yuuji's other hand clenches the wheel. He's angry, so fucking angry at Naoya for doing this to you!

But his need to be there for you and make you feel ok again is stronger than the anger. You don't need anger at the moment. You need your best friend who treats you with love and care. And so Yuuji turns his hand on your thigh so you can interlace your fingers with his, holding hands for real now.

You hold on so tightly that it's almost painful, even to a strong guy like Yuuji. But he definitely won't complain. You need this, need to hold his hand, need the comfort of your best friend next to you, and Yuuji will give you anything you need.

You drive in silence for a few minutes, just holding hands and waiting for the car heater to work.

But Yuuji knows that one of his biggest flaws is that he cannot seem to shut up and often talks before he thinks, so he isn't surprised when his mouth decides to blurt out:

"Do you want me to beat him up for you?"

"Oh my god, Yuuji! Please don't!"

"Ok, anything you want. But my offer stands if you change your mind. He would deserve it. And my right hook is really good, says my coach."

"Maybe he would deserve it, but I don't want you to get into trouble. So please promise me you won't try anything like that."

But at least you sound a bit more like yourself again, and your voice isn't as weak anymore. The corners of Yuuji's lips lift in a half-smile, and he gives your hand a reassuring, gentle squeeze.

"I won't, I promise. Let's get you home and into dry clothes. And then we'll eat ice cream and watch a movie. That's probably a better way to deal with this than going all violent, huh?"

"Thank you, Yuuji. Like, really. I am so grateful for you. When I was sitting there crying, all I could think of was, "I want Yuu here, with his broad shoulders and bright smile." You always make me feel so safe and... I sound so stupid, but you feel like home away from home. You know what I mean?"

Yuuji has to gulp hard against a lump forming in his throat all of a sudden. He feels like home to you? This is the most beautiful thing anyone ever said to him. He blinks rapidly against the sudden moistness in his eyes.

"It's nothing. I'm always here for you. Will always be. And you are my home too."

The rain is getting heavier again, drumming loudly onto the car top while the windshield wipers are doing their hypnotic dance across the car window. The street leading out of the city is pretty empty at this time of night, so the drive home is pretty serene, only the darkness of the night and the pouring rain illuminated by the car's headlights.

Usually, Yuuji is a sunshine type of guy. He loves summer and the sun and never complains about the heat. But he has to admit that there is some beauty in the rain too, especially when you are sitting in a car at night with the person you love the most in the world and they are holding your hand and visibly and audibly relaxing after having such a tough breakdown, and it's all because Yuuji is here to offer his comfort.

You have almost reached the campus again when Yuuji speaks up again, voice soft and low:

"Hey, just let me tell you this, ok? Please don't get mad. But I think you should break up with him. I know he will call you and make all kinds of excuses, and I know you are a sweet and forgiving person, but please don't listen to him. Don't go back to him, please. He's an asshole. You deserve so much better. You deserve someone who only likes you, someone who doesn't want anyone else. Someone who will never hurt you."

Someone like me.

Your answer is another squeeze of his hand and a soft:

"You are right, Yuu. Zenin Naoya is history."

You sigh and reach over to turn the car audio on, and Junpei's emo mix starts playing again.

This is side one, flip me over. I know I'm not your favorite record.

Yuuji loses it and snickers. Why is it always this damn song? He feels like you caught him doing something naughty, listening to Fall Out Boy and screaming along to lyrics that somehow fit his personal situation all too perfectly. It sends him into hysterics, and now he really laughs like a lunatic.

But to his enormous relief, he hears a chuckle coming from the passenger seat. And then your hand is on the car audio again, and you turn up the volume and tap your finger onto the dashboard to the beat of the song.

It's the next song that makes the two of you break out into loud laughter.

Let's play this game called "when you catch fire, I wouldn't piss to put you out." Stop burning bridges and drive off of them. So I can forget about you.

Yuuji can hear that you are crying through the laughter. Of course, you are still sad, and it will take a while for you to get over Naoya. But it's ok. Yuuji's here to dry those tears, and he will be by your side and help you make that broken heart whole again.

And at least you already have an "I hate Zenin Naoya" anthem now.

Thank you so much to everyone who keeps looking forward to a new chapter of this series! It makes me so happy when I get feedback on this story! So, Yuuji is really the perfect knight in a red hoodie, hm? For me, the answer is YES! He is so sweet. Everyone should have a Yuuji in their lives aww.

Please let me know how you liked the chapter! Comments and reblogs help me a lot!

Only one chapter left now aaaaahhhhh!!!

I added a second FOB song, "Tell that Mick he just made my list of things to do today," aka the "I hate Zenin Naoya" anthem lmaoo.

Chapter 06

#yuuji x reader #yuuji fluff #yuuji smut #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #itadori x reader #itadori fluff #itadori smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #yuji x reader #yuji fluff #yuji smut

246 notes · View notes

danielxricciardo · 3 years ago

Note

Hi girl!! I love everything you’ve wrote! Couldn’t say how much I enjoyed reading one shots of F1 drivers! I have to ask if you could do one for Carlos? He and reader are expecting but keeping it secret, Carlos won the race! And he ask if he could hear her through radio, though with some glitch, all other drivers and teams hear Carlos’ radio, he tells her how he’s so happy with the win but more than anything about their little one on the way and now everyone knows the secret of pregnancy because he suddenly slipped it while talking to her on radio👶🏻 I can’t imagine how will other drivers will congratulate him (like Daniel, Max, Landooooo! Seb! And even Kimi!🤣) I think Lando will be overjoyed and will be presenting to be Godfather already Hahahaha!

Summary: Having a baby and everybody finding out

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 1.5k

You realized that you were pregnant after a series of fortunate events that, individually, you did not take as alarm signals.

One evening, Carlos decided to spare you from cooking dinner and ordered your favorite food from your favorite restaurant. You were very excited to eat it, but when the food arrived you were on the verge of throwing up because of the smell. You told Carlos you couldn't eat, so you just ate an apple and went to bed. The next day, after Carlos left for the gym, you couldn't get away from the toilet because if you took a few steps you would feel like throwing up. However, when your boyfriend came home, you didn't feel so sick anymore, but you didn't tell him what happened to you because you didn't want to worry him.

You had a vague idea that you could be pregnant but you wanted to wait until Carlos leaves for France for the Grand Prix.

The day he left you went to the pharmacy and bought two pregnancy tests.

Positive.

You just sat down and cried. You stared at the positive test for several minutes. Honestly, you were so hormonal and conflicted about the timing that you bawled your eyes out. You were both happy and worried. Carlos was busy with his Formula 1 career, you didn't know if it was appropriate to add a child to the dynamics of your life.

But you recovered immediately. You are talking about Carlos, of course, he will be happy to have a child with you. You've been together for four years, you knew you would be together for the rest of your life.

The next day you did another pregnancy test, just in case. Positive, obviously. You went to the pharmacy again, and you took four more tests, to do one every day until Carlos came home.

"Hey, honey. I missed you," says Carlos entering the house.

You didn't even let him take off his shoes. You handed him a gift box in which you put the six pregnancy tests you took.

"Amor, did I forget an anniversary?"

You nod.

"Open it."

You see him take the lid off the box and take out a pregnancy test. Then another one, and another one, until he took them all out. You could see it on his face, he was scared and overwhelmed.

"Seriously?" he asks.

You nod and bite your lip, a few tears run down your face.

"Amor, that's wonderful! Ay Dios Mio! Are we going to be parents?"

You laugh and kiss him long.

"Yes, we will be parents."

You have scheduled an appointment for the next day to confirm the pregnancy and determine how many weeks you are pregnant. It looks like you're 10 weeks pregnant, so that means month 3 of your pregnancy. You couldn't believe that for almost 3 months you didn't realize you were pregnant, but you always had an irregular cycle, so it's not really incomprehensible.

You and Carlos have decided not to announce publicly that you will have a child just yet. For now, you were happy to share the news with your families, wanting to plan a nice way to tell your friends as well.

You know that feeling you get at certain times of the month when you want to cry at every cheesy commercial or could explode with anger at the drop of a hat? Pregnancy is like that sometimes, except 10 times more intense. With your new hormones raging, and more stress in your life than ever before, what with getting a nursery together and preparing to welcome the precious baby into the world and all, emotions are high. Tempers are bound to flare.

That is how you felt sitting in the paddock with Carlos who was preparing for the race. He was starting from P3 so he was pretty excited and nervous for the race. He saw your state, he knew you too well.

"Ay, mi Amor, come here," he said and hugged you to calm your nerves. "Don't worry, ok? It's an easy race, I'm gonna win it for you and the little bean, ok?"

You giggle at the sound of Carlos's nickname for the baby. You kiss him and smile.

"You know I don't really care about winning. Just come back to us. Safe." you say, your voice barely a whisper, not wanting anyone around you to hear your discussion.

"Si, pequeña. Always."

Sure, you were always concerned when he was racing. But especially now when your hormones were driving you insane and you were growing another person in your body. But you trusted him. With all of your heart. If he said he will come back to you, he will.

It took you a few moments to understand what was happening. Carlos Oñoro was hugging you, yelling 'He won!' and you looked at the screens in front of you. He did. Carlos Sainz was the winner in Monza! He kept his word, he won for you and your child.

"Hey, Y/N!" you hear your name being called by Riccardo Adami, the race engineer of Carlos. "The winner wants to talk to you."

You giggle and go to him. 'The winner'... Has a nice ring to it.

"Hey, baby! Congratulations!" you say excitedly over the radio.

"Si, mi amor! I told you I'm gonna win for our baby! I love you both so much!"

What you didn't know was that there was a glitch over the radio and every driver heard Carlos talking about 'your baby'.

"Aaa, guys? Why am I hearing Carlos over the radio talking about a baby?" Charles asked his race engineer.

"There's a glitch. Come to the garage."

"A baby?!" Lando yells into the radio, making his race engineer flinch. "Was that Carlos saying he is going to have a baby? Oh my God!"

You were waiting for Carlos to come out of his car, being absolutely clueless about the hysteria you two just caused. Carlos was just about to get his helmet out when all the drivers came to you two, yelling congratulations to you both. You looked at Carlos. Did he tell someone about your pregnancy? Did you give it away?

"Uh, thank you but how did you find out?" Carlos asked, clueless as you.

"We heard it over the radio," Kimi responds giving you a genuine smile.

"This is not how I wanted you guys to find out," Carlos said and put an arm over your shoulders, kissing your head. "But, yeah, it is true, we are having a baby."

"Mate, you're having a baby! That is so crazy! You are basically a baby!" Daniel says and hugged you both.

"And who is the godfather?" Lando asked and everyone laughed.

"We just found out two weeks ago, there are still five months to think about it," you say and bit your lip and Lando pouts. "You'll be considered, Lando."

After three months you decided to have a gender reveal for your family and friends. You could have had it a lot sooner but you wanted to be at an appropriate time for everyone. All the drivers came, as well as your family and Carlos's too. You made everyone wear a piece of clothing according to the gender they think your baby is. You were surprised to see the majority of the people being team boy, but as Lewis said 'They just want to make sure the third generations of Sainz is coming in Formula 1' and you know he was right.

"Look, listen to me, I have three kids, ok? I know, for a fact, by the way you are carrying that it is a girl!" Sebastian said and you laughed. He was wearing his pink T-shirt with pride, being 100% sure he is right.

He was.

You were having a girl and you could swear that Carlos cried a little when he saw the pink confetti. He hugged you for a few minutes, being still in shock.

"Una niña pequeña..." he whispered in your ear. "I am not ready."

You laughed and kissed him.

"You are gonna be the best dad ever, don't worry."

"No, I know that. I am not ready for her to date! And she'll go to university, no..."

"Carlos, she is not even been born yet! You have plenty of time to spend with her."

"Hi, guys, sorry to interrupt!" Lando appears near the two of you, making you break apart from your hug. "Did you think about the godfather or... or this is not a good time to ask?"

Everyone heard him and started laughing.

"Mate, remember the bag I gave you when you arrived?" Carlos asked him and Lando nodded. "You can look inside the bag now."

Lando got the bag and inside was a white romper saying 'Will you be my godfather?'

Lando looked at the romper with tears in his eyes.

"Well, if you insist..."

887 notes · View notes

copias-thrall · 3 years ago

Note

How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕

Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!

This was going to be alist, but it got away from me! 😅

Enjoy 😘

It wasn’t anything big.

Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.

***

Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.

(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)

Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.

***

A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.

“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.

“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”

You’d paused your game.

“Bad shit?”

He’d waved you off.

“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”

He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.

“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”

You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.

This wasn’t against you. It was for him.

When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.

“But if you want—”

“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

You’d unpaused your game.

“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”

He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.

“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”

You had. Twice.

***

Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time.

He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.

While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.

“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”

You’d been careful not to seem too eager.

“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”

He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.

“Why ’’ya think I told you?”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)

“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”

He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.

Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.

What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.

***

So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.

Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”

Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.)

***

A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.

He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.

Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.

“We still on for Saturday?”

He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”

His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.

“Yeah, why not.”

***

That morning, you wake up happy.

Mary will be over soon.

You roll over and grab your phone.

When should I expect you? :-*

It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.

An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.

not 2day

goin upste 2 show

You blink.

What show? Didn’t we confirm?

yeah. got me thinkin

why no show?

so i chked

i missed one

gotta do it

Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.

But you said we had the whole day. I made plans.

save em

ths is impt 2 me

We’ve had this planned for weeks.

i thot u suprted me

on a bus cnt tlk

You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.

And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.

But…

It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.

How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?

You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.

Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.

When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.

***

Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.

The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.

You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being.

Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.

It’s both better and worse than you expected.

You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…

The texts to and from Mary are ugly.

Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.

You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.

Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.

You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.

***

Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.

You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?

The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.

The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”

You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).

***

Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.

Not that you’re in a relationship.

So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.

You gape through the peephole in shock.

“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”

Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.

“Mary?”

“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.

You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.

You close the door and stare back.

He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”

What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”

This…isn’t what you’re expecting.

“I…what?”

“Can we sit down?”

You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.

He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.

“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”

You nod.

“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”

You don’t nod.

“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”

He angles his body toward you.

“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”

Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.

There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.

“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.

“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”

So this is it.

Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.

“I understand,” you say flatly.

“You do?”

“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.

He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.

“But I want your shit in my life.”

You squint your eyes at him.

“But what I said…”

He grasps your hands in his.

“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”

Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.

“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”

He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”

Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.

You curl in on yourself.

“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”

You blink at him.

What?

“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”

“What?”

“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”

You uncurl.

“That…’what’ was me?”

He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.

“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”

“Mare—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.

“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”

“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.

Mary actually blushes.

“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”

You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.

But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.

“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”

That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.

“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”

He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.

You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”

His face contorts, and your heart sinks.

“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”

Mary gives you a complicated look.

“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.

He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.

“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”

You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.

“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”

Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.

“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”

He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.

“I…just…how can I believe you?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.

“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

And yeah. Ok.

#asks #mary goore #gender neutral #hurt/comfort #my writing #original post

64 notes · View notes

monoxiid · 4 years ago

Note

I also want to say I really love your writing! 💗💗

it makes me really happy that you like my writing, thank you very much for the compliment! love with professionalism ♡

⋮☰ ┋ 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 : dating hdcs ⌕

⋮☰ ┋ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 : Itoshi Sae (blue lock) ⌕

⋮☰ ┋ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒: a bit of angst, mainly fluff ⌕

⋮☰ ┋ 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐄̀𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: how would itoshi sae act in a relationship with you? ⌕

⋮☰ ┋ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mistakes, as always, gn reader ⌕

⋮☰ ┋ 𝐇𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐎: not me realizing that I deleted your request with my clumsy fingers <3 ⌕

⠀‘ ℐ𝓉ℴ𝓈𝒽𝒾 𝒮𝒶ℯ ’ :

┃𝒩ℴ𝓉 having a good esteem for romantic feelings himself, which could only slow him down in his impetus as an accomplished future footballer, you must have really caught his eye. and even then, even though Sae assumes he maybe has feelings toward you, he would have tried to ignore them, in vain

( and because u r bby. look, they're bby, aren't they, sae? ^^ 🔪)

┃𝒪𝒷𝓋𝒾ℴ𝓊𝓈𝓁𝓎, proud as he is, he won't take a step without being sure that you love him too. if you're confident enough to declare yourself to him, he will tease you until death follows. however, if you are shy, he will quickly come to understand that you love him, because he is very good at reading people, sometimes to his utter despair. one thing to remember, in both cases, you will get teased. and Sae won't be the type to be shy if you flirt back <3

❝ you like me and i do. what about dating? ❞

┃ℋℯ probably doesn't take the initiative to be affectionate with you and will make you feel a bit touch starved, but if you mention it ... *insert surprised pikachu face*. and a second later he will be clingy. if you get shy because of it he'll wear that smug smile like nothing happened and that everything was fine.

❝ wasn't that what you wanted? ❞ :P

┃𝒲ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 care if you ever mentioned wanting to meet his brother.

❝ Why do you want to see him anyway? Is it important? ❞

as if it wasn't a member of his family he was talking about. he'd be a little jealous, tho- why would you want to meet Rin if you had him, anyway?

┃Rich emo boi™

ℋℯ may seem indifferent to everything, Sae is more than aware of his surroundings, even more when it comes to you. he sees the looks you throw in this plushies shop, your distraught look when you see all these shiny and pure jewels. and tomorrow you will have them in a box, called by your boyfriend "stuff he saw on the way". 🤡

Oh and, no refusals accepted. you take this.

┃ℛℯℊ𝒶𝓇𝒹𝒾𝓃ℊ the PDA, he has a reputation to uphold and he doesn't want your privacy to be screwed up. he knows how toxic fans can be. you go out as little as possible and discreetly hold hands, but nothing more. dates consist mainly of him hanging out at your place or vice versa.

┃ℐ𝓉 's funny how in private Sae gets a lot less serious. totally the type to criticize movies, go through your stuff for a distraction, to snuggle up against your neck or your chest, chatting incomprehensible bullshit because fatigue consumes him.

┃👏let👏you👏borrow👏his👏sweaters👏

it makes him dizzy to see you relaxing in his own piece of clothing, too big for you, telling him you like it because it smells like him. the scent of perfumes that weren't bought just for their price, neglecting the smell itself ( it surely doesn't have to cost a little tho)

┃𝒫𝒶𝒿𝒶𝓂𝒶𝓈 party? pajama parties.

Sae is ✨ totally✨ the type to come to your house at catastrophic hours because he was 'in the mood' or something. you will let him in because he would be fucking ready to break your door 🤠

┃𝒯ℴ𝓍𝒾𝒸 trait: he knows the code of your phone and sometimes has no notion of private space, looking at it as if it were his own. you will ask him why he was slightly pouting and he will answer :

❝ Why don't ask to that Dazai instead? Considering what's in your gallery, you seem to like him quite a bit! ❞

┃Follow This Advice Absolutely: bother him about his jealousy towards fictional characters for whom you are a simp.

(sorry for the reminder that must hurt)

┃ℐ𝓃 order to compensate for this trait, he will not hide anything from you and if he has the motivation, will answer all your questions without thinking about it. but if you ask him too much, he will be suspicious.

❝ Are you doubting me or something? ❞

┃ℋℯ doesn't care if you play football or not. as long as you cheer him up, that's all he needs to win his games and be proud of him, because he knows you will jump in his arms reminding him of this wonderful action he did.

┃ℬ𝓊𝓉 of course, while you are in (insert your country of origin), you are in a long-distance relationship. it won't be a problem, he will call you, inquiring about the time difference between your position and his, being careful to give you your precious sleep, in Face Time, of course, because he wants to see you. but don't count on him to play this ridiculous game of 'who hang up the phone?', he will do for for you.

┃𝒮𝒶ℯ is a bit of an intrusive, shit eater, a spendthrift when it comes to you and even clueless when it comes to how to behave gently, but you can see he's a lot better than what you thought, and will always pay attention to you, even if it means to question himself. he always thought love was tiresome and now he was just tired of waiting to see you again.

#🎐.bookstore #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #🎐.ask

176 notes · View notes

random-thought-depository · 3 years ago

Text

The infamously corny Star Trek TOS episode The Omega Glory was on TV last night and I watched it. My ideas for how I’d rewrite it to make it less silly:

---

The Yang ancestral culture wasn’t literally the USA, it was just a society that looked kind-of sort-of like the USA in the same way some pre-Columbian American and ancient Indian societies may have looked kind-of sort-of like ancient Athens. That by itself would make the episode much less stupid, and you could keep most of the same basic ideas.

Since we’re not bound to absurd levels of parallelism anymore, I’d personally be inclined to make the Kohms light-skinned blue-eyed blond(e)s and make the Yangs darker-skinned with darker hair and eyes, and imply that the Kohm ancestral society was fascist instead of communist. Maybe sprinkle some symbols distantly reminiscent of Nazi iconography around the Kohm village. It’s not like there was any meaningful connection between the Kohms and communism anyway, and I feel this resonates better with a lot of the ideas the episode was going for. Admittedly, this is probably influenced by my own biases.

---

Basically swap the roles of Cloud Williams and his mostly silent female companion who doesn’t really do much.

Why? Let’s think about how Yang society might work for a moment. I’m going to say they’re horse-riding big game hunters, like the nineteenth century Great Plains native American cultures on Earth, because 1) that fits with the idea that they’ve been driven into marginal lands and had to become nomads, 2) if you want nomads capable of assembling armies of thousands of people it’s either that or Eurasian-style herders, 3) it fits with the “they’ve become like native Americans” idea. They’re very slow-aging, theoretically capable of living over a thousand years ... but if they’re like their precedent cultures on Earth they probably live fairly rough and dangerous lives and I think would probably tend to live only a few decades or centuries before dying in a hunting accident or battle or something like that. But... going by Earth precedent, it would probably be mostly the men who do the most high-risk activities of hunting and war, which might result in very gender-asymmetrical life expectancy patterns, where men tend to only live a few decades or centuries while women stay relatively safe and have a decent chance of living to be thousand year old ancients. This would be compounded by 1) a lower death rate would mean a lower birth rate for replacement rate reproduction, 2) they’re almost immune to infectious diseases, which would make childbirth in primitive conditions much safer, so that would greatly reduce the probable primary cause of death for women in such a society (childbirth complications). So I think it’s pretty plausible that they’d have a more-or-less matriarchal society where women have a lot of power because they live a lot longer and hence have a lot more time to accumulate experience and become repositories of culture (important for a low-tech nomadic society that will have a mostly oral culture!).

So, I’d gender-swap Cloud Williams; my version of her would a matriarch with a leadership position in her tribe because she’s one of its oldest able-bodied members, she’s got a thousand years of experience and she’s had time to memorize a lot of the oral histories of her tribe and become basically a living library. Why would such a person be anywhere near a battlefield? Well, “the oral histories of her tribe” would include a lot of war stories, with detailed and often basically accurate descriptions of tactics and strategy because that’s how knowledge of how to win wars against Kohms and rival Yang tribes is transmitted in her society. She’s a living tactical manual, so of course she leads her tribe’s warriors in battle.

She could have a companion who’s a big guy who doesn’t talk much and does the brute strength side of what in the episode is Cloud Williams’s role (fighting Kirk in the cell, ripping out the bars). Maybe he’s her grandson, and was captured with her because one of his roles in the tribe is to be her bodyguard in battle.

----

Related to what I just said, have a bit where Captain Tracey says that he expected the primitive and superstitious Yangs to be overawed by phasers, but instead it was almost like they have a recent cultural memory of war with modern weapons and war against technologically superior opponents and they quickly started using effective counter tactics. Given the explanation in the episode for the long lifespans of people on Omega IV (very strong selection pressure for disease resistance), none of the Yangs would actually remember the ancient high-tech Yang civilization and original war against the Kohms, but the generational transmission chains from a lot of presently living Yang matriarchs to that time might be relatively short. For a lot of the presently living Yang matriarchs shooting down Kohm helicopters with surface-to-air missiles and ambushing Kohm armored columns in mountain passes might be something like “my grandma’s time.”

----

The reason the “Eee Plab Neesta” sounds like gibberish is that Cloud Williams is reciting it in its archaic original language, which the living Yang language has evolved into mutual incomprehensibility with. The Yangs might have one lovingly preserved paper copy of their equivalent of the Declaration of Independence, but their culture is mostly oral, and they mostly preserve the “holy words” in the heads of the matriarchs, who memorize it and transmit it from mother to daughter exactly (“by heart”), being careful to get every syllable right so it does not become distorted. The oldest matriarchs can still speak the ancient language, but for most of the Yangs, especially the relatively short-lived men, it’s like me listening to somebody recite Beowulf in its original language.

This is more-or-less my headcanon for what’s going in the actual episode too: the “Eee Plab Neesta” is just the text in its original now archaic form of the Yang language, which the universal translator can’t translate because it doesn’t have a big enough sample to work on. I’d make that much more explicit though.

The way I’d handle the scene is to have Cloud Williams start to recite the Eee Plan Neesta, and then have Kirk ask her what it means and suggest that she try to translate it into the everyday language of the Yangs so all her people could hear it with understanding, and of course it wouldn’t be the actual Declaration of Independence but something different but with a similar spirit, something like this:

“We the people of these five colonies of the nation across the sea and seven nations of the original inhabitants of this land, establish a Union, which we found in and organize according to the following principles: that all people are equally precious, that laws exist by the consent of the people and to serve the people, that leaders serve the people and hold their offices by the consent of the people...”

Then have Kirk give his speech about how these words are meant for everyone and not just for chiefs and should be something shared among all the people and lived by and not something gatekept behind archaic language most people can’t understand. Have him reference the USA founding documents by saying that his world has something very similar and he knows from the history of his own world how world-changing these ideas can be and how precious they are.

----

Obviously you can’t do that “the Yangs try to find out if Kirk recognizes the holy words, and Kirk almost recognizes them but not quite” thing with this version, so the equivalent I propose is:

Kirk recognizes the original functions of Yang “holy relics,” i.e. relics from the ancient Yang civilization: one is part of a machine that once carried people through the air (it’s a snapped-off piece of a helicopter blade), one was a device for seeing far away things as if they’re near (it’s a broken pair of binoculars), one was a machine which people could use to talk to people who were beyond the horizon (it’s a broken-down cell phone), etc.. OK, the last thing is anachronistic for TOS, but if I were writing this as a fanfic it’s what I’d do.

Cloud Williams starts to recite a long epic poem the Yangs have that tells their entire history, to see if Kirk will recognize it. Of course Kirk doesn’t, but while the Yangs don’t have history books they do use visual textile art as an aid to memory and they’ve set up a big story cloth that depicts the narrative in the room and Kirk goes over to it and starts pointing to pictures on it and correctly interpreting them:

“Here, the Yangs were oppressed by kings. The Yangs rebelled and overthrew their kings and made a new nation that had no kings. After this the Yangs became very rich and very powerful, they built great cities. The lords of the Kohms were threatened by this and they used terrible weapons on the Yangs and invaded the Yang land with great armies. Here’s a Yang city being destroyed in an instant by a Kohm weapon. The Kohm lords were so threatened that they tried to destroy the Yangs’ whole way of life. The Yangs retreated to the bad lands and kept fighting. Here are Kohm flying machines attacking a Yang village, and a Yang warrior hiding behind a rock destroying one of those flying machines with a lance of fire. The Kohm lords couldn’t overcome the Yangs until they brought the Death Thirst to the Yang lands in a box and let it out. But that weapon had a life of its own, and turned against the Kohms, and almost destroyed them too. Only a few Yangs survived in the bad lands, and the Kohms claimed the good Yang lands and settled them. But the Yangs survived, they learned the bow and the lance, and eventually their numbers started to increase. The survivors lived longer than people had before; you interpreted this as a gift for the Yangs and curse on the Kohms by the Great Spirit, so that both might live to see you retake what was once yours. And little by little, you did retake what was once yours...”

----

One way to suggest the Enterprise crew making a positive difference on Omega IV at the end of the episode: have Kirk convince the Yangs to spare the Kohm civilians in that village.

The victorious Yangs are all set to give the last Kohms the Numbers 31 treatment, which is what they usually do when they overrun a Kohm community. Of course, Kirk is horrified by this, and he manages to use arguments involving the Yang “holy words” to convince the Yangs to be merciful instead. “Your own holy words say that every person is equally precious! Every person! That includes the Kohms too! If you really mean it, it includes the Kohms too! They’re no threat to you anymore! Did you fight for so long just for a chance to do to them what they tried to do to you? If so, how are you any better than them? Your own holy words claim to be for all people! Your own holy words say that all people are more alike than they are different, and all people are capable of appreciating the gift of freedom! If that’s true, then your holy words are for the Kohms too! That’s why the Kohm lords were so threatened by you, because they were afraid of what would happen if the Kohm people heard those powerful, good words! Tell the Kohms about your holy words!”

So Cloud Williams agrees to make a merciful and peaceful settlement with the “last of the Kohm places,” let it integrate peacefully into Yang society with no further bloodshed and no abuse inflicted or spoils taken. And then Kirk says “If you mean your words of freedom, your work didn’t end today, it’s just starting. Build good seaworthy boats that can cross the ocean, and send people to the Kohms across the sea, so they can hear your words of freedom too! The words of your ancestors are for them too! You’d never be able to conquer them, but they can hear your words!”

#Star Trek #fanfic ideas #cw: Nazis #kinda #cw: genocide #I read/watch something

10 notes · View notes

vantaenims · 5 years ago

Text

chocolate milk | jungkook

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: childhood friends au | fluff, humor

word count: 6.8k

warning/s: smoking and jimin’s younger than jungkook here lol.

summary: You never planned to catch some feelings for Jungkook but you didn’t know that he’s the mastermind of all these fickle thoughts. It’s all thanks to Psychology and Human Behavior.

masterlist

Every year you and your family go to the Jeon’s rest house for your annual summer vacation along with the Kims. Your mom is best friends with Jungkook and Taehyung’s mom ever since they were in high school – soul sisters, as they like to call themselves. So it left you no choice but to also form the same kind of friendship with their sons whom you practically grew up with.

The tradition started when you were eight when the rest house was completed the year before. Jungkook’s mom invited your family and Taehyung’s to spend the summer there. You’re in awe as soon as you stepped inside the premises of the newly built house that you thought you were in paradise.

You remember that summer clearly, your eyes immediately landing on the swimming pool where you can see Jungkook refilling his water gun as he shoots you with it, the moms singing along to the 80s music playing in the background, the dads making barbeque as they set up everything for lunch, and Taehyung putting on a sunblock on Seoyun, her little sister, inviting you to swim with them as soon as he saw you arrive.

It was supposedly meant to be a one-time thing until you pestered your mom every single day of that summer with questions like ‘are we coming back here next summer?’, ‘can we live here?’, or even a bratty remark like ‘I’m gonna cry for the whole year if we don’t come back here.’

It was insufferable considering Jungkook and Taehyung decided to join you in consistently pestering their moms too. Looking back, it’s funny when you all screamed with joy when all of your parents agreed to come back here next summer thus marking the start of the annual summer vacation in the Jeon’s rest house.

You and Jungkook are in the kitchen, assigned to cook and prepare for today’s dinner. Jungkook instructed you to chop the necessary ingredients needed for the meal as you can’t cook to save your life.

“You nervous for the grades?” he said, stirring the pot filled with kimchi stew.

You’ve gotten in the same university as Jungkook’s, with you majoring in Finance while Jungkook majors in Psychology.

“Kinda” you exclaimed with a huff, sitting yourself on the kitchen counter after you’ve done everything he asked you to do. The grade results will be out next week and the achiever in you can’t wait to see how well or bad you did for your first year in college.

“Don’t ponder too much about it” he said, motioning for you to get the bowls for him. But knowing you of course it’s been on your mind 24/7 ever since the finals ended, you were one of the top students in high school after all.

“College made me feel so mediocre” you frowned.

“Said every freshman ever” he laughed, pouring a generous amount of stew into separate bowls.

He messed your hair after he looked up to see you still frowning, “I believe in you.”

You remember two years ago when Jungkook came into your house unannounced even though his dorm is approximately an hour away from you just because he wanted to rant how he can’t handle the amount of work load he has, saying that he’s not good at multi-tasking.

He brought his backpack with him as he entered your room, sitting at the floor beside your bed, asking if you could help him do some of his homework or requirements.

“Jungkook, I’m a senior student in high school. How am I supposed to do a college homework?” you looked at him if he’s being really serious. “Couldn’t you ask some of your college friends to help you?”

“Well, I’m a freshman who clearly doesn’t have enough friends yet so can you please help me?” he sighed, pleading at you with those big doe eyes. “Plus you’re smarter than me anyway, I believe in you” he said winking at you.

“Fine” you said, rolling your eyes. He took out his laptop and passed you a pad paper and his thick textbook in Developmental Psychology.

“I’ve already written the questions there, I think the answers are in Chapter 3 and 4” he peered at you, a discontented look displayed on your face but he knows how you can give in to his request, he took out a box of your favorite chocolate milk and placed it right in front of you.

“Got it Sir!” you said a little too enthusiastically as you grab the paper and textbook from him.

Jungkook called everyone to come down after you finished setting down the dish and plates in the table. Situating yourself in the middle of Jungkook and Seoyun. You looked at the empty seat next to Jungkook. Taehyung was supposed to seat there but he’s not here

“Will Taehyung be coming here?” you asked Taehyung’s mom just to make sure. You messaged Taehyung when you noticed his absence right after you arrived in the house but he hasn’t replied to you yet.

“He’ll be coming here on Monday” she informed you. “He went on a trip with his college friends.”

As soon as she said that, your phone buzzed. You checked to see that it’s a message from Taehyung.

[Sat, June 13, 12:38 PM]

Taehyung: hey Y/N! Sorry I can’t reply awhile ago, signal’s weak here. Don’t be sad, I’ll be coming there on Monday. I know u and Jungkook miss me already ;)

You: where did you go?

You: shut up we don’t miss you

Taehyung: Japaaaaan!

Taehyung: that’s too bad I was about to buy some green tea chocolates for u but ok

You: I miss you!

You: we miss you our handsome kim taehyung!

You: haha anyways, enjoy!

“So Y/N” you chucked your phone away in your lap as you glanced at Jungkook’s mom. “I heard you had a boyfriend.” You’re confused to say the least, brows furrowing with the sudden ridiculous information. You didn’t even know you had a boyfriend until this point.

“Your mom told me a certain someone frequently visits your house” your mom laughed as he slapped the arm of Jungkook’s mom, shushing her.

“I think she’s keeping it a secret for a while, don’t push her” your mom whispered as if you were not there in front of you to hear it. Rolling your eyes, you know who that someone is but her assumptions are wrong.

Your mom always assumes that every boy – except Jungkook and Taehyung – who comes into your house is your boyfriend considering the fact that you studied in an all-girls school from nursery to high school.

That someone she’s referring to is Jimin, a fellow freshman finance major who you’ve become good friends with. Upon knowing that Jimin lives in the same city as you, you’ve mutually agreed to accompany each other every time you return home weekly to make the one hour trip less boring.

But she was totally convinced that Jimin is your boyfriend after your mother saw him dropping you off for the fifth time, giving you a knowing smile once you entered the house. An impassive look on your face as you told her that he’s just a friend.

“You have a boyfriend?” Jungkook turned his head to look at you with wide eyes.

“I don’t!” you whispered shout, “And if I do why is it such a big deal?”

“Because you’ve never had a boyfriend” he said like it’s a common knowledge for you all.

“And you’ve never had a girlfriend either so”, Jungkook was about to retort something when his father asked him to get the fruit salad they made in the refrigerator for dessert.

He stood up, albeit reluctantly, as he squints his eyes at you, “We’re not done yet” he mouthed while you childishly stuck out your tongue at him.

You thought catching feelings for Jungkook was out of the question but you were wrong. It started when he’d always invite you to study with him and he would always give you your favorite chocolate milk. You appreciate the gesture but you set aside those funny feelings, thinking you’re just happy to see him. A happy crush is what you’d like to say it is.

Not too long, you confirmed your feelings for Jungkook is dangerously heightening after you saw what he looked like on your sister’s wedding a year ago. A black suit paired with a neatly white polo tucked in his slacks, his hair swept to the side.

It bothered you how he suddenly looked different, actually ten times more attractive. You just saw him as this cute annoying boy but tonight he switched to be a fine looking man. Jungkook caught you gawking at him, a smirk displayed on his face as he watched you scramble for your phone to make it seem you were busy with it.

Panicking, you started to video the wedded couple’s first dance until Jungkook blocked your camera. Asking if you want to dance with him as he held his hand to you, leaving you with really no choice but to accept the offer.

Suddenly, you felt awkward as you don’t know where to put your hands until Jungkook guided you to put it around his neck whilst he put his hands around your waist. Eyes avoiding his as you try to get a hold of yourself.

“Why are you shaking?” he laughed, sensing your nervousness.

“It’s cold” you lied. He’s too close for your liking hence you can see the scar on his right cheek and can smell the cologne he only uses on special occasions.

“Is this better?” he asked, leaving no space in between you as he reeled you into him, slow dancing in a hugging position. Shock overcoming you though this is not something new between you two, it’s normal for the both of you to be openly affectionate but it’s incomprehensible why you’re suddenly feeling butterflies in your stomach.

In conclusion, you’re starting to fall for Jungkook.

After taking a shower, you descended down the stairs to see Jungkook and Daecho – Taehyung’s younger brother – playing Tekken on the Playstation. Smiling to yourself as soon as you saw how cute Jungkook looks in a matching gray hoodie and shorts, eyes wide and mouth agape as he concentrates on defeating Daecho.

Opening the kitchen cabinet, you got yourself some potato chips as you sit cross legged beside Jungkook on the couch.

“Can I have some?” Jungkook asked, eyes still glued on the screen. You reached the bag of chips towards him, nudging your shoulders against his when he made no movement to get one. He opened his mouth towards you, waiting for you to feed him.

“I’m playing” you rolled your eyes but feed him anyway. Daecho also chiming in if you could feed him too, making you their servant.

Soon after, Daecho was called by his mom to go upstairs telling him that he should sleep since it’s late. Grumbling, Daecho stood up and bid good night to the both of you before ascending the stairs. Jungkook turned off the console and switched the television to Netflix.

“Pick what you want to watch”, he tossed the remote control at you, standing up to go to the kitchen.

You scan over the wide selection of movies until your eyes landed on your favorite anime film, “How about Spirited Away? For old time’s sake.”

“There are Studio Ghibli Films now on Netflix?” he jogged back to the sofa to look at the screen while he hands you the uncooked pack of popcorn. You laughed as you grabbed it, finding it hilarious how he’s still scared of the microwave.

It all started when he was 10, he grabbed the leftover chicken wrapped in foil in the refrigerator and put it straightaway in the microwave. Taehyung entered the kitchen just in time to see the ruckus, unplugging the appliance right away when he saw Jungkook just standing still and not moving from his spot as he watched the foil sparked into a fire.

Taehyung scolded Jungkook for almost destroying the microwave or even almost causing a fire but immediately felt bad when he suddenly saw the younger one bursting into tears, thinking that he was about to die from a microwave explosion.

Laughing at the memory, you walk and sat back into the sofa as you share the bowl of popcorn with Jungkook who’s laying down, placing his feet on your lap. The screen showing the scene where Chihiro and her parents enter the tunnel.

“I still remember that one summer when you would watch Spirited Away every single day because you have a cartoon crush on Haku” he said as you threw him a popcorn to shut him up.

Jungkook laughed as he eats the popcorn that landed on his chest until he sat up to remove the bowl of popcorn from your hands to place it in the table as he plopped his head on your lap. As an instinct, you ran your fingers into his now long wavy hair.

“Your hair’s long” you said as you mindlessly braid strands of his hair.

“Do you like it?” he’s touching the braids you’ve made, his hands almost touching yours before you move it to the next strand of his hair. You hummed, loosing his braids to undo it. He grabbed your hands as he sniffed it.

“Why are you sniffing my hand idiot?” you laughed as you booped his nose with your finger.

“It smells nice”

“It’s the strawberry body wash you got me for secret santa last year” you said as you watched him play with your fingers and even giving you a hand massage.

“Do you really have a boyfriend now?” he asked out of nowhere.

“No” you firmly said, annoyed once again for what your mom said. Jungkook whined as he put a hand on his side of the head where you unconsciously tugged his hair a bit too strong. Laughing as you apologized for taking your annoyance out at him.

“Who was she referring to?”

“It’s Jimin” you said, “You know how we always go home together.”

“You’ve never told me that” Jungkook turned his head to look up at you, “Besides, isn’t Jimin the guy who you had spent time that one Tuesday night right? The one when you stood me up”

Jungkook was being petty once again, he had brought this topic too many times for it to be annoying by now but you can’t blame him though since you’re the one at fault in the first place.

Tuesday and Thursday nights are meant for study dates with Jungkook in a café but you had spent one Tuesday night with Jimin in the library because you had to do a paper with him that is due for submission that night at 11:59 p.m.

But you were so busy that you forgot to message Jungkook that you wouldn’t be able to study with him. You only realized it when you checked your phone in bed, ready to sleep. Your lock screen is filled with missed calls and messages from Jungkook.

“Hey, I at least rushed to the café to still meet you” you said, pushing his head to the side.

Jungkook was thankfully still in the café by the time you got there. You sat in front of him as you try to explain and apologize but he just blatantly ignored you until you stole his pen from him to write ‘I’m sorry :(‘ in his notebook.

“I could drop you off at home you know” he said, eyes focusing on the television.

“I live farther from you, Jungkook” you reminded him, fingers making it’s way back from his hair again as you massage his scalp. The action made Jungkook close his eyes, humming at how relaxing it is.

“If it’s you, I don’t mind” he whispered. You stared at him because he doesn’t know he could make your heart race just by saying that, he doesn’t know that you have developed feelings for him and you know It deep inside that it’s a case of unrequited love.

You reminded yourself that he’s being like this because he’s older than you which could mean that’s he’s only just being protective but times like this you’d think that Jungkook might possibly have feelings for you.

“Do you have the list with you?”

“Yeah, I got it” you said as you enter the car, situating yourself in a comfortable position while you buckle your seatbelt. You forgot the grocery list in the kitchen so you made a run for it while Jungkook stood by in the car.

Switching the gear to reverse, Jungkook looked back with his hand steering the wheel while his arm is placed behind your seat as he fully backed the car from the garage to the driveway. Oddly enough, the view of Jungkook reversing the car with that arm position is inexplicably attractive.

“It’s weird, we’re now assigned to do the grocery run” you said in kind of a rush to cover yourself after Jungkook noticed you’ve been staring at him, causing him to shoot you a playful smirk.

“Isnt that fun? We get to be the older ones now” he said albeit enthusiastically.

The grocery runs were usually done by your older sister and Jungkook’s older brother every sunday but they’re both absent for this year’s summer considering your sister is on a vacation with his husband while Jungkook’s brother is in America for an internship.

You propped your elbow on the window, placing your chin in the palm of your hand. “Yeah but you know the older we get, the lesser we are in the house”, you frowned in disappointment.

“Taehyung’s not even here”

“He will be here tomorrow though”

“But you know I think I just get attached to the idea that I spend every summer with you guys then for it to be gone one day”

“We still do exist in autumn, winter, and spring you know” he said trying to cheer you up as he pets your hair, “plus you almost see me everyday now that we’re in the same university.”

“Yeah, right” you chuckled. Ever since you started college, it’s been kind of a routine to spend at least once or twice a week with Jungkook in a café nearby your dorms to study and possibly hang out.

You’ve basically camouflaged yourselves to be one of those college students dressed unapologetically in their hoodies and pajamas with their textbooks, highlighters, and laptops sprawled out on the table while you’re both focused in your own worlds.

Jungkook would casually get your post it notes to draw something random like a dog or a flower but he would mostly draw your eyes, even captivating every single detail of it. He’d stick it to your book, laptop screen, or wherever your attention is. In fact, you had collected every single drawing of his as the sentimental person you are.

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted when the car engine was turned off, looking around, you didn’t notice that you were already in the parking lot of the supermarket. You opened the door as you walk to the entrance.

Grabbing your arm, Jungkook stopped you as he waved at the camera placed at the entrance of the supermarket encouraging you to do the same thing. Laughing as you watch yourselves being childishly silly.

“You know, sometimes I think you’re actually younger than me” you said as you grabbed a push cart and head to the dairy section.

“Hmm you wish” Jungkook hastily put his arm around your shoulders, ruffling your hair. He maintained his arm around yours like that, telling yourself to pay no mind to it and that it’s a casual thing to do.

To calm yourself a bit, you brought out the list and handed it to Jungkook, instructing him that he’s in charge of getting the items while you’ll be pushing the cart around. You let out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding when he detached himself from you.

“Do you want to play for a while?” you pointed out to the arcade as you exit the supermarket.

Jungkook turned to look where you’re pointing at, “Sure, it’s been a while” he smiled, grabbing the cart from you, telling you he’ll follow soon after he unload the groceries in the car.

As soon as you entered the arcade, you were hit with a sense of nostalgia as you remember when you would always tail with your sister and Jungkook’s brother for their grocery run so you, Taehyung, and Jungkook could play in the arcade while you wait for them to finish.

You brought out the old arcade card you unnoticeably still had in your wallet as you gave it to the staff to load it.

“You still have that?” Jungkook’s sudden appearance made you jump a little as he laughed at you when you placed a hand on your heart. “Disappointingly, I misplaced mine it was even a limited edition Pokemon design”, he said frowning.

You laughed at his bummed state, nudging him what would he like to play first. He looked around, eyes widening at his sudden idea, “How about we make a deal? Loser gets to do whatever the winner says.”

You squinted at him as you contemplate if it’s a good idea to take the deal because there’s a high probability that Jungkook would win anyway. “Okay, deal” you laughed, shaking his extended hand.

For the first game, you chose to play the car racing game where you surprisingly defeated Jungkook thus making him more competitive as he is. He chose to play a round of basketball for the second game wherein he won by five points ahead of you. It is now up to the last game to determine the winner.

“We should pick something we have never played before so it’ll be fair” Jungkook said, his eyes landing to a group of kids cheering for their friend whose holding onto two metal handles in front of the hands of a gorilla. It’s called Raging Ape as he read the sign above.

Jungkook tugged you towards the game after the kids left, “Have you played this before?” you shook your head to say no. After observing the kids, he informed you that the game is all about hand hold strength basically you just have to hold onto it as long as you can while the vibrating frequency increases.

There are three buttons; low power, med power, and high power. Jungkook volunteered to be the first one to try it as he swiped the card through the slot, pressing the high power button.

“Does it shock you?” you said, noticing the lightning drawing patterns.

“I don’t know, let’s see” he grabbed the metal handles as he waits for it to start. The machine emitted a low whirring sound signaling that the game has started, sound and vibrations increasing by the second. Jungkook turned his head to your side as he scrunched his nose when it got to the highest intensity.

“I can’t feel my hands” he laughed as he successfully held into it the whole time, shaking his hand to get rid of the numbness. Jungkook swiped the card right away, not even giving you time to get ready.

You hesitantly put your hands on the handle, nerves quite going up. “Does it hurt?” you peered at Jungkook for some assurance, “A bit but you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, no pressure” he teased but you can also be competitive just like him so you ignored his comment as you went with it.

It made your hands feel ticklish and tingly at first but then as the intensity escalated it became more unbearable. You yelped making you loosen your grip around it as you felt a shock coursed right through your hands.

You rub your hands together, looking at Jungkook as he excitedly points at himself proclaiming that he’s the winner. “No, let me do it again”, you protested.

Jungkook crossed his arm while he put his fingers in his forehead, eyes closed as if he’s deep in thought whether he should give you another chance but of course he wouldn’t – not when he’s already the winner.

“No, let’s go” he said making you sigh as you thought so. He grabbed you by the wrist as you exit the arcade, his hands momentarily sliding down to your hand, fully taking a hold of it. You stared at your enclosed hands, a different wave of shock surging in – a much stronger one than the game.

You situated yourself on the lounge chair beside the pool, eyelids drooping from the late afternoon breeze. You placed your phone you’ve been scrolling through out the afternoon in your stomach as you closed your eyes, lulling your head to the side.

“I’ve made you a mango juice” you opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s mom propping herself on the chair as well placing the shake on the table between you two. She apologized when she noticed she must’ve woken you up but you dismissed her saying that you’re hungry anyway.

“How’s the first year of college for you dear?”

“It was great, I’m glad Jungkook’s there for me” you smiled at her.

“I told him that he should always look out for you” she said while she sips from her juice, “Does he always check on you?”

“Don’t worry, we make sure to see each other every week” you informed her, “Ah I forgot to thank you for the Chicken Pesto Pasta.”

She looked at you as if she’s confused, “It was during my birthday, Jungkook told me you made it for me”, you reminded her.

Sleep. That was how you plan to spend your birthday after your class ended for the day, you have no energy in you anymore to bother going out for your birthday not after taking an all-nighter the day before for a presentation.

Not until Jungkook invited you at his dorm the night of your birthday, telling you that his mom had sent you a meal. He begged you to come by telling you he would go to your dorm if it isn’t an all girls’ dormitory. So you spent your birthday at Jungkook’s dorm, eating the pasta in a microwavable container in his bed as you watch About Time in his laptop.

“Did I?” Jungkook’s mom questioned as she tried to remember but nothing came to mind however she did recall when Jungkook called to facetime her, asking her to stay in the line while he cooks the pasta and listens to her instructions.

“Oh yes, did you enjoy it?” you nodded eagerly, “I think it was the best one you’ve ever made yet.”

She chose not to mention that it was Jungkook who made that for you, already taking the hint why his son hid the fact that it was him who prepared that.

“Dinner’s ready, let’s eat” you turned around to see your mom’s head peeking out the sliding door. You stood up, taking the two empty glasses in your hand as you made your way inside.

“Y/N can you call the kids upstairs?” your mom said, taking the glasses from you.

You went up as you quickly knock on the doors of Daecho, Seoyun, and Jungkook, shouting that dinner’s ready. Skipping down the stairs, you sat on your seat after calling them too lazy to check if they’ve heard you but you munched on your food right away as soon as you saw Daecho and Seoyun going down.

“Y/N, did you call Jungkook?” your mom asked while you looked at her with your mouth full, nodding to say yes, “Can you call him again?”, putting the chopsticks down, you stood up, grumbling quietly as you made your way up.

“Jungkook, dinner’s ready” you knocked on his door ready to go downstairs again but then you didn’t hear any answer from him. Growing impatient, you twisted the door knob as you entered his room.

“Jungkook, wake up dinner’s ready” you stood at the end of his bed, annoyed at the fact that he probably wouldn’t wake up just yet as the deep sleeper he is. You grabbed the blanket and tossed it on the floor, revealing his weird sleeping position – crossed legs and arms.

“Please, I’m really hungry, just wake up” you pleaded as you threw a pillow on his chest. Jungkook groaned as he hugged the pillow closer, you tried to pry it away from his but his grip around it is too strong.

“Jungkook!” you dragged his name in a deep voice deciding to seat at the side of his bed.

He finally opened his eyes, laughing at how you look so annoyed. He rubbed his eyes as he gently grabbed your arm that is placed on his bed, sitting up in a position where his elbows supported his upper body weight.

You’re once glaring eyes then turned into wide ones at how close his face is to yours – it’s not that actually close but it’s enough to make your heart race. Also, it isn’t helping how his half closed eyes and long fluffy hair made him look cuddlier but you wont let him know that.

You’re just friends, that’s it. You repeated to yourself but his intense stare – you’d like to believe – says other wise. You wanted to break away from his gaze or say something but you found yourself to be stuck in a trance until you heard your mom calling for you and Jungkook to go down.

“Let’s go” you stood up, maybe a bit too fast as you exit his room while Jungkook laid down again, smiling that maybe his plan is coming to fruition.

All those all nighter in college changed your body clock. It’s 2:30 a.m. and you’ve done everything like reading a book and listening to your sleep playlist in order for you to sleep but you still found yourself wide awake.

Staring at the ceiling, you thought that maybe if you do something tiring then it’ll be easier to sleep. With that thought, you stood up as you made your way to your drawer, taking out your one-piece swimsuit you used to wear during your varsity swimmer days in high school.

You made your way down as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake anyone up at this hour. Sliding the door, you made your way outside as you lay down the towel in the chair and slipped your flip flops off.

Being in the water feels like a second nature to you, you’ve been swimming since you were seven. Swimming was fun but then it’s more of like a hobby rather than a dream, that’s why you decided not to partake in the university’s swimming team so you could focus on your studies.

With your hands on the gutter, you pushed your feet against the wall of the pool as you do a freestyle. You tried to follow one part of your old training routine which is doing 15 laps of freestyle.

After completing the set, you evened out your breath by bubbling five times underwater. The freestyle was supposed to be followed with laps of 15 backstrokes, 15 breaststrokes, and 15 butterfly strokes but you think it’d be impossible to do more at this point.

“I’m not good anymore” you mumbled to yourself, eyes closed as you rest it on your arm that’s placed on the gutter, feeling exhausted but also disappointed because you’re clearly out of practice.

“Your Olympic tumble turns are great though” you were surprised to say the least once you heard Jungkook’s voice. He’s sitting on the lounge chair as he laughed when you splashed him bits of water for scaring you.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing” he raised his eyebrows, cunningly smiling at you.

“I couldn’t sleep” you said, retreating back your head to position it once again on your arm.

“Well then, that makes the two of us” you looked at him then your eyes flickered at his hands, you come closer to the side of the pool just to make sure if you’re eyes are deceiving you.

“Is that a cigarette?” you looked at him but he’s looking at the ground as he hid the cigarette from you, avoiding your stare.

“Can I try?” you managed to say after he chosed to ignore you, his bewildered eyes immediately looking at you.

“No, it’s not safe Y/N” he said in a hushed stern voice. You were just messing with him, of course you wouldn’t even try but it’s the only way to catch him off guard.

“When did you start smoking?”

“Just this year” he looked at you but you were giving him a look as if you want him to explain further, “My friend asked me if I want a hit so I tried until I asked him for one”, he said as if he’s disappointed in himself, you did remember when he said he doesn’t like it when his dad smokes.

“Don’t worry I just smoke occassionaly though, I’m trying to stop before it gets worse” he assured you, putting the cigarette out even though it’s not yet close to being finished. You nodded, relieved that he’s at least trying.

An idea must’ve been popped into his mind as he stood up to get the kickboard, “Let’s do the kickboard stand.” You rolled your eyes as he tried to change the subject but you let him have his way.

You, Jungkook, and Taehyung invented this game wherein you all stand on the kickboard as you push yourselves further to the deepest part of the pool. It’s all just about withstanding the kickboard from surfacing until you lose balance.

Suddenly, Jungkook took off his shirt and threw it on the chair. You can’t help but stare at his defined body, you’ve seen him shirtless a lot of times but this is the first time you became flustered about it.

He threw the kickboard in before he dipped himself in the pool. As instructed, you sat yourself on the ledge while you placed both of your feet on the kickboard, standing slowly while Jungkook pushed it down with his feet.

The distance between you two is close to being non-existent given that the kickboard is small. You tried to balance on it while Jungkook pushes the board into the deeper part of the pool.

As it almost reached the end, you felt the board move a bit. The movement made you hold on to Jungkook’s shoulder so you could steady yourself, you both chuckled as he reached down to your elbow to keep you in place.

You looked up at him see the moonlight reflecting on his face, making him more ethereal. He’s looking down as he tries to focus keeping the board from emerging. It’s one of those times where you unnoticeably get lost just by looking at him.

Unable to resist, you swept his hair that made it’s way down to cover his eyes. The action made Jungkook quite surprised as you both silently stare at each other like what just happened back in his room.

You were about to break the silence not until you saw Jungkook glancing at your lips which made you do the same. He gently tugged your elbow towards him as he slowly lean towards your face only for it to be ruined as you both lose your balance on the board.

The kickboard aggressively rocketed on your face before you toppled and submerged. As soon as you surfaced, you saw Jungkook laughing his heart out, embarrassed you splashed him a water as you made your way to the ledge of the pool to sit.

You tasted something metallic in your mouth, putting a finger on it you saw blood. “I busted my lip” you frowned.

Jungkook tried to contain his laughter as he came closer to you, inspecting your lower lip with his fingers on it. Your heart’s beating erratically with how he’s touching your lip and him being in between your legs.

“Wait” he said as he got out of the pool, muscles flexing when he pushed himself up through the gutter.

Stop thirsting over Jungkook, you reminded yourself.

He hurriedly came back with a chocolate milk in his hand and got in the pool. He was about to place the box of milk in your mouth until you stopped him.

“Jungkook, why would you put that in my mouth?” you ask him confused as to why he thought of this as a remedy for your busted lip.

He chuckled, putting it to your mouth anyway, “It’s the only thing that is frozen, there are no ice cubes unless you want me to put a frozen chicken in your mouth.” He figured that you must be thinking why it’s frozen so he explained that he plans to eat it as an ice cream.

“Are you okay?” he said, stifling a laugh as he remembered the look on your face.

You shoved his shoulder, glaring at him, “This was your idea.”

“I know, I’m sorry”

Your mind is going crazy again as you noticed your back in the same position before he got out of the pool – you sitting on the ledge and him in between your legs. Also, you remember when he started leaning in towards you before the incident.

“I like you” you mumbled but quickly covered your mouth after you realized you voiced out your thoughts.

Jungkook looked at you with wide eyes but was quickly replaced with a smirk, “I know” he said as he placed back the box of milk to your mouth.

“What? What do you mean you know?” you’re curious if you were really that obvious.

“I liked you first before you even like me” his confession was a surprise to you though it’s somewhat not the answer to your question.

“Okay? Congrats?” you’re confused as to what he meant.

“I learned Pavlov’s Theory of Classical Conditioning in class and decided to test if it works” now you’re even more confused whilst he chuckled before continuing, “To explain it, he theorized that a dog salivates whenever he sees food. The salivation being the unconditioned response and the food as the unconditioned stimulus. So he-“

“Jungkook, why are you telling me this?” you said, cutting him off.

“Let me finish, you’ll know later”, he chuckled as he squeezed your knee, “So he introduced the bell, he rings it just before he gives the food. After a while, the dog now associates the bell with the food thus making the item a conditioned stimulus. In conclusion, the dog salivates whenever he hears the bell because he associated it with the food.”

You blinked slowly at him, “That’s nice to know but what?”

“This is your favorite right?” he referred to the chocolate milk, you nodded your head to say yes, “And what do you feel whenever you see one?”

“Uh happy?” he clicked his tongue, winking at you. “Right, so I kind of conditioned you to feel happy whenever you see me because you associated me – the conditioned stimulus – to this milk.”

It finally made sense now, Jungkook does always give you chocolate milk whenever you do your weekly study dates. The gesture made you feel happy but then you remembered that one time he didn’t gave you one, it made you feel very confused why you’re all happy to see him; you called it a happy crush after all.

Smartass.

“What am I? A science experiment?” you shoved him albeit playfully.

“The theory worked anyway” he shrugged as you rolled your eyes at him. “As the winner of the game, I could do what I want right?” you nodded.

He removed the box on your mouth, his hands had made its way to your cheek as he takes in your beauty before he gently grabbed your chin to lean you towards him.

“May I?” you smiled as you nod your head. Jungkook finally pressed his lips with yours, can’t believe you’ve been waiting for this moment just as him. You reeled him further into you by placing both of your hands around his neck whilst his hands travelled down to your waist.

“Ow it hurts” you hissed, pulling back as you placed your fingers on your lips, “I don’t think I can kiss you right now” you mumbled as you try to hide your smile, shy at what just happened.

He smiled as he gently lifted your chin, kissing the corner of your mouth then moving to your cheek and jaw until he rested his head on your shoulders, placing you both in a hugging position.

You stayed like that for a while as he traced different shapes on your back with his fingers, his head moving further in to the crook of your neck. Giggling as you felt his breath tickling you a little when he kissed your neck.

Smiling, you rested your head against his as you stroke his wet long hair along your fingers. Thinking how you never expected your sleepless night to go like this but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: Here’s a Jungkook one shot for you to read while we’re all in a quarantine or lockdown lol. Hope you liked it! Stay safe and be healthy!

897 notes · View notes

nobody-knose--archive · 4 years ago

Text

finally got around to listening to sketches 3d today and man! man! oh boy! liveblog under the cut!

-piano. exactly what i was expecting

-vibrato huh

-ayyy that's some. funky percussion

-this is like the fullerenes or something. a song about an Interesting Lady

-and there's that one grainy string synth/sample that andrew uses a lot & also appears in hawaii part ii

-more percussion. this is so cool

-i wasn't expecting this to be quite so minor key

-man if that was courtney on the flute there i think that'd be sick

-sing it andrew!

-i'm already having a more cheery time than i did with nat

-zubin???

-i will absolutely have to review that voice

-wait what the fuck is happening to her

-darling you good?

-anyway. classic andrew horowitz funky out-of-tune synths

-rattle rattle

-more out of tune piano. what song is this

-oh shit!!! this is the song my friends like

-tambourine <3

-you & me? sides of a coin? good & evil?

-so weird hearing all these lyrics i've seen in the song channel sung aloud for real

-andrew is doing some good singing here. he's good at carrying the melody on his own even though i've not heard much of that from him in the past save fate of the stars maybe

-he's always been good at that percussion

-all different types of percussion. tinny little gong like it's the whole world & you acoustic

-tambourine <3 <3

-so incredibly weird knowing what the lyrics are going to be without knowing what the song sounds like. i know how these words go in order but don't know how the melody carries them

-interesting thing about sketches so far. it's very strong & powerful but it doesn't block out the world like other new songs will. i'm not being taken somewhere else it's more like the whole rest of the world is being highlighted

-alright what's next?

-7/4 hummingbird????? or is this 6/4???

-no no no it's 5/4 and doing funky things with the onbeat i love this

-asking questions to a little creature is the best kind of pasttime and i mean that

-man andrew mixed this really well he's just. incredible at that

-he's making each song distnict while also giving sketches a clear theme

-a minor turn. i like that

-now what could this be?

-not lemons & pears yet?

-daisy fingers hell yes

-another song about a lady

-spoke mostly harmony oh you clever man

-thank you andrew for doing more with time signatures than tally hall ever did. first 5/4 and now 6/8

-the combination of very out of tune & rough percussions and incredibly beep bloopy synths is so cool

-conversations with a lady. this feels like a story of andrew visiting another world and being like "might as well write some songs about the fellows and stories round here"

-the whole album, i mean

-i am inspired by you, andrew

-this whole album is everything i could've hoped for and more

-the interesting thing about it is how few questions i find myself asking. i'm just looking at this stuff i have and being like wow! &, cool! not what i usually do with new albums

-divine inspiration bay be

-that's like. the opposite of an 80s fadeout

-oh that is absolutely the little sfx from the beginning of perfect at the end

-wait speaking of at the end

-no this is have a nice day interludinal

-is this a polyrhythm? there's a 4/4 type thing in the background and the foreground is. not on the onbeat i can say that much

-man i am going to have a nice day

-he's a good musician, able to make so much music out of a single interval

-lemons & pears!!!!

-toy orchestra my beloved that's the fuckin toy piano bay be wooooo

-but man oh boy does this sound absolutely different with only a one single guy singing

-ukulele in the bg? toy orchestra <3

-interesting being able to actually hear like. all of the lyrics for real

-some of the little riffs are gone and there are quite a many more

-hello?

-oh okay

-yeah i heard about the fucking gunshots that doesn't mean i was prepared for them

-the chorus sounds so nice i love this

-guest vocals?????????? whomst????????????

-who is this lady i'm so curious is she from the old toy orchestra? that'd be amazing

-breakdown time and it sounds so similar to the toy orchestra one. man

-at the end is. not the end of the album

-i think the thing that's getting me and not prompting as many questions is the fact that like. i hear these songs and hear tally hall songs. andrew's singing & i could hear this on a tally hall album with ease. it's strange

-i think the hi-hat and other little bits in this song, for example, reminds me of ross

-andrew's always tried hard at rock, and percussion is a massive part of that-wait he's scat singing i can finish that thought later i love this

-his songs are also very easy to sing along to without meaning to. first time hearing them and here i go

-anyway percussion is a massive part of rock, andy's always had an affinity for percussion, i think that's what's making me think of tally hall so much, or at least be. comfortably experiencing this in the same way i would a tally hall album

-i can't say the same of hawaii part ii

-if there's anywhere that lists the credits somewhere i'd like to see if ross worked on this at all but. i'm pretty sure he didn't

-where am i-oh shit a crowd

-nowhere else this is a song i think i know nothing about

-all that shit i was saying about rock percussion and now there's a whole entire drumkit going here

-alrighty

-that is not only andrew singing! again! who are you

-.....casey shea?????

-you sound like casey shea sir??????

-you are either casey shea or someone else who sounds like a beatle (affectionate, instead of derogatory)

-good guitar shit

-is that a third voice or does andrew just sound like that?

-madi diaz???

-i'm probably just guessing her because of the rendezvous but. there's gotta be someone more

-a whole lot of love going on here and i do appreciate it

-is it 80's fadeout time now? hell yeah

-oh yes the rainbow connection! a cover and the final song of the album (not counting the bonus tracks, which i will be listening to)

-i think i may have heard this before? or at least the minor rendition

-stylophone?

-humming. classic move

-theremin??

-music box is also cool. i swear i won't just be commentating on the instrumence alright

-what on earth is this sample in the background. steadily getting louder

-man andrew is a great singer. the consistent double vocals/heavy vibrato suits him well

-i will assume these are samples from like. the muppets movie

-does sketches (3d or otherwise) have a pdf like hwptii & nat? i sure hope so because i will enjoy looking at it

-vocalizing again let's a go

-more gong wahoo

-bonus track time <3

-tomorrow & today is a song i know pretty damn well i hope he's more legible now

-mostly the same as the 2011 version but it certainly is updated i can tell. more echo on these beginning lines

-piano is stronger. there may or may not be some added flairs. not a whole lot blatantly changed but i can say. i'll remove the 2011 version and replace it with this one for charlie

-there's a riff in my right ear that i don't remember and i like it

-this bit right here is more legible in general thank god it was incomprehensible originally

-the stomping percussion is Goin places

-and to end the whole song- you know yesterday fueled by a listen of nat i came up with an abundance of thoughts on writing styles in tally hall and especially how andrew's songs go places and what the journey's like and while that essay really won't fit into this liveblog i really enjoy how tomorrow & today has no destination in mind and it's a gradual trip but you never look back

-such strong g&e vibes

-misfortune bay be! time to replace the other misfortune charlie has with this

-sheet music???? jenny where did you find this? [referring to the image used in the video she uploaded i listened to] also this is still not the whole song i know the original misfortune wasn't but it feels strange to start this far into the song

-chords my beloved i could fucking play this song i'm so hyped about that

-toy orchestra solid soda real <3

-the one and only studio recording toy orchestra did. this is some of the best evidence for steve gallagher's voice we have

-also the audio is higher quality than the yt upload i think

-oh a casio organ not a real organ. okay i can't complain

-i like the sound of the piano at least. also this is horrendously gorey i like it

-andrew horowitz horror writer extraordinaire

-these sound like the sorts of drum synths my electric organ has

-i actually can't tell if that one's a guest vocal or andrew just being a very very good singer

-this sounds like some sort of recording you'd take of your kid's music school performance

-oh it's over

-fuck that was good

#tally hall #shoutout to jenny yesac for uploading the version i listened to #and another shoutout to tallyall dot club for being my one-stop shop for charlie's tally hall mp3s #tis i #loolin liveblogs #i say this every time but if you want to know what the hell i'm talking about in these listen to the album as you read #and try to keep synced up as best as possible k #edu #anyway a few closing thoughts in the tags: andrew sure makes some good lengthy songs huh? less than nat but same in length #damn near all are over 3 minutes which i really appreciate. god why the hell wouldn't anyone listen to this album it's wonderful #i'm not sure if any of my guesses and questions about guest vocals & the like will be answered by anyone #but like. on that note. i have a sneaking suspicion i personally contain sketches knowledge few others have. only attained it very recently #as in like yesterday so good for me but. oh there's something to look forward to in about a month and a half #to the world and back again

14 notes · View notes

talesfromthebandgeekmafia · 4 years ago

Note

I wanna hear abt ur ocs owo 👉👈🥺

AAAA omg bless u you’re a peach <3

I would love to tell you about my OCs I’m like Charlie It’salwayssunny over here I’ve got boxes full of OC stuff I’m just dying to talk about. I’ll put everything under a read more so anyone that’s not interested can just skip past here cause I’m about to get RAMBLY okay let me tell you about my beloveds

Okay so by far my favorite creative project right now is my novel that I’ve been planning on & off since January of 2019, the working title is Villainous, it’s like the most refined and likely to actually go somewhere of all my story ideas and I swear this thing holds my entire soul

The actual story is a play on the classic Career Woman RomCom setup except her name is ~Magnate~ and her big city career that never gives her time for love is ~Supervillain~

unfortunately I don’t have any art of her or any of the other characters yet because good super designs are difficult to nail down, but I’m working on it!

Anyway Magnate is amazing and a bit of an ass and I like her so much <3 She’s a big time supervillain that uses the high tech gadgets she creates for your standard robberies heists kidnapping the mayor the usual. Her parents were shitty white collar criminals that on top of being totally uninvolved in their daughter’s life embezzled from their numerous charity organizations, leading her to be suspicious of anyone that calls themselves a hero + giving her a whopping case of trust issues and a loose grasp on ethics, cuz hey, morality may be a ruse but the power and prestige sure aren’t. She's worked hard and climbed the ladder and made a name for herself as a kickass supervillain, and she plays cool and dramatic but underneath all the bravado she’s just an endearingly awkward nerd who wants a friend, which is where the next character comes in~

So for plot reasons Magnate joins up with another even more infamous supervillain to get a spot as his right hand woman in his plan for world domination, and she’s fine and everything’s business as usual until she’s told that she has to work with another person he’s recruited for her part of the plan to do biochemistry stuff synthesizing the compounds they need while she engineers the tech components, and so enters best boy Dr. Bodhi Bright who crashes into her carefully curated life and ruins everything in the nicest way :)

listen, I LOVE this guy he’s weird he’s a weirdo, just a chill funky lil dude with the most incomprehensible moral compass on Earth. Because of their job he and Magnate have to spend a lot of time together forcing Magnate to actually socialize for once beyond hurling quips at her nemesis, and right of the bat Bodhi completely throws her off her game vis a vis her supervillain image with just his whole deal. He’s this sweet polite guy who’ll talk about a death ray in the same casual tone as the minutiae of city parking, he’s new to the villainy thing and he just thinks Magnate is cool. Bodhi thinks he’s just good at reading people but he actually has minor latent empathic abilities which let him pick up on Magnate’s bravado and so he’s just...not intimidated by her at all. He completely circumvents the whole ‘big evil supervillain’ thing and just talks to her like they’re normal coworkers. And it’s not like they can just find somebody else to replace him so Magnate’s forced to respond and build an actual relationship and rapport with someone for the first time in ever. So they get closer and become actual friends, Bodhi starts calling her ‘Meg’ because Magnate kind of sounds like Margaret, and she lets him. Meg shows him the ropes of villainy, and just sort of learns to be a person again through working & developing this friendship with him, remembering what it’s like to be genuinely happy and excited about her everyday life and care about more than just her job, to open herself up to care about other people at all, and this is a romantic comedy so of course as the story progresses they fall in love and just—GAH I love their relationship so much they're so good for each other I could talk about them forever and I’m literally writing a book about it so like yeah they’re great. my darlings <3.

Here I’ve got some memes to give a better impression of their dynamic

I've only really got one other important character left to talk about aside from Meg & Bodhi's boss (he's literally the worst & the major antagonist for the book that's all that needs going into for now otherwise this thing is just going to reach unwieldingly more rambly and specific heights) and she's the secondary antagonist, superhero extraordinaire and Meg's nemesis AmaZing (get it? like amazing? except it sounds like amazon? cuz she's a lady superhero—) in a shocking turn of events this woman is the best person out of any of the people here and also the most well adjusted, she is also a very interesting character to me and I could probably pull a whole other book out of her character if I wanted to. AmaZing’s real name is Zoe Amison, before she was a hero she was a professional ballerina with a kickboxing hobby that she used to keep in shape, her first night out I think she was just straight up dressed in her costume for Firebird or something. She has superhuman strength and agility, her powers manifest with these bursts of golden sparks and arcs of electricity which she can direct as a close range weapon, basically she’s very good at the big punchy aesthetics. She’s known as one of the best superheroes in terms of like who they are as people, she tries to help rehabilitate the supervillains she fights, including Magnate, even though most of them have none of it, any money she gets from her hero work she donates back to the community so she can contribute more than just punching muggers, and she does a lot of activism and charity events on the side. She makes most of the money she needs to eat and whatnot in the cornerstore she inherited that her family’s owned for generations, and she lives in the apartment above the store with her girlfriend because YES she’s a lesbian YES her girlfriend is trans YES they are disgustingly in love and YES they own a cat named Petal together. (Her girlfriend’s name is Callie (short for Calliope) she’s a nurse and patches Zoe up when she gets hurt on the job)

And there is so much more I could say about this thing but that’s about all I can muster right now in terms of like a basic overview of these characters. Thank you so much for this ask dude this was so fun to do!!

#again tysm Kian this was so fun #hope that was coherent enough lol #it’s getting late here and I’ve been working all day so my brain is kind of fried #sorry it took me a while to respond! the darn thing got eaten in my notifications #once I’m done with some art I’ll post it but in the meantime #if anyone wants to hear more about these guys or their story do not hesitate to ask #I've got anon on and I am delighted to talk about this stuff #Villainous #OCs #my writing #spilling the Tea #idk why but on mobile it’s doing some weird stuff w/ the spacing in between bullets #hopefully that’s fixed when this is posted but idk #just know that I didn’t intend for there to be 20 lines of space there

8 notes · View notes

pitiless-achilles-wept · 4 years ago

Text

2020 Can Take My Hair, But Not My Hope

My hair started falling out on election night.

I thought at first it might be the anxiety, that I was literally pulling my hair out with worry over numbers I already knew were not going to be definitive before the night wore into morning but which I stayed up until 3:30am watching anyway. I tweeted rapidly, reassuring my jittery timeline that not only had we all known that the night would bring no results but that we had even expected Trump to lead in key states because of the greater number of mail-in ballots from urban areas that would largely count for Biden. We knew. We all knew. But we were all terrified, flashing back to 2016 and already dreading another four years of living life on high alert, in constant survival mode.

I posted a selfie with a tweet that read, "Could be the last presidential election I vote in (blah blah stage 4 cancer blah blah) and I wish it were better and clearer than this but it's a crucial privilege to have voted. Remember, whatever the outcome, the last thing they can take from you is your hope."

To me that last sentence has been a mantra for these years and for my treatment. I have consistently refused, despite overwhelmingly terrible odds, to lose hope. The story of Pandora's Box tells us that the very last thing left inside was Hope--that even once all the demons were out in the world there was that tiny, feathered creature left to hang on to. It hasn't been easy, but I am one of the most stubborn people you will ever meet (and if you doubt this just ask anyone who's ever fought me on anything!) and it has turned out to be a saving grace rather than an irritating personality trait. Feeling like the world was trying to take my hope away made me angry. And when I get angry I will fight back.

I know I'm not alone in feeling like we entered some kind of alternate nightmare timeline on election night 2016. To that point, despite periods of immense personal difficulty, nothing truly terrible had happened to me. Then, in short order, my marriage ended and I was diagnosed with and began being treated for a terminal illness, all against the backdrop of a regime so deliberately hateful that it was truly incomprehensible to me. Then, a global pandemic and national crisis swept away the small consolations I'd found in my new life with cancer. The temptation to feel hopeless was strong and I struggled with it, particularly in the isolation of quarantine. I'm struggling with it now, facing a winter of further lockdowns, social isolation, continued chemo, and the added indignity (and chilliness!) of not having any hair. But somehow the coincidence of my hair loss with election night seemed like a good omen for the future, if a sad thing for the present.

I heard the news that they had called Pennsylvania for Biden at a peaceful Airbnb in the Catskills after stepping out of a shower where lost hair in handfuls. It felt oddly like a sacrifice I had made personally. I joked about this with friends on the text chains that lit up and that (despite my promise to myself and my writing partner that we'd "go off the grid") I responded to immediately. Instant replies, with emojis and GIFs, participated in the fiction: "Thank you for your service!!!"; "We ALL appreciate your sacrifice!"; "Who among us would NOT give up their hair for no more Trump?". The feeling was real for me, though. It was as though the good news demanded some kind of karmic offering. You never get something for nothing, I thought, and really it was a small price to pay.

The rest of the weekend passed too quickly, with absorption in the novel I plan (madly, given that I also work full-time) to work on for "National Novel Writing Month" (NaNoWriMo), walks in the unseasonably warm woods, and nighttime drinks on the back deck under the stars, watching my hair blow off in fine strands and drift through the sodium porch light. My friend and I read tarot and both our layouts contained The Tower, the card for new beginnings from total annihilation, the moment of destruction in which (as the novel's title says) everything is illuminated. "This might sound dumb," he said, "but maybe yours is about your hair." It did not sound dumb.

[shaved heads, the 2020 election, and a couple pics under the cut]

There is probably no more iconic visual shorthand for cancer than hair loss. It happens because chemo agents target fast-proliferating cells, which tend to inhabit things that grow rapidly by nature (hair, fingernails), or that we need to replenish often (cells in the gut), as well as out-of-control cancer cells. But not all cancer treatments, not even all chemotherapies, cause hair loss. In my 20 months of being treated for cancer and my three previous treatments (four, if you count the surgery I had) nothing had yet affected my hair beyond a bit of thinning. This despite the fact that my first-ever treatment (Taxol) was widely known to cause hair loss for "everyone." I had been fortunate with this particular side effect in a narrow way that I have absolutely not been on a broader scale. "Maybe," I had let myself think, "I can have this one thing." The odds were in my favor too; only 38% of people in clinical trials being treated with Saci lost their hair. I liked the odds of being in the 62% who didn't. But--as we all felt deep in our gut while they counted votes in battleground states--odds aren't everything.

I had come to treat the "strength" of my hair as a kind of relative consolation (though as with everything cancer "strength," "weakness," and the rhetoric of battle have nothing to do with outcomes). I treasured still having it, not just out of vanity (though I have always loved my hair whatever length, style, or color it has been) but because it allowed me to pass among regular people as one of them. I had no visible markers of the illness that is killing me, concealed as first the tumor and then the scars were by my clothing. "You look wonderful," people would tell me, even when I suffered from stress fractures from nothing more than running or sneezing; muscle spasms in my shoulder and nerve death in my fingertips; nausea that I swallowed with swigs from my water bottle that just made me look all the more like a hydration-conscious athlete; and profound, constant, and debilitating fatigue. Invisible illness had its own perils but I would take them--take all of them at once if necessary!--if only I could keep my hair and look normal.

It was not to be. A part of me had known this, since a lifetime with metastatic cancer means a lifetime of treatments a solid proportion of which result in hair loss. But I had hoped. And I had liked the odds.

The hardest thing for me is having to give up this particular consolation before knowing whether or not my new treatment is also working on my cancer. Unfortunately, there really isn't a correlation between side effects like hair loss and effectiveness of treatment. If it is working then I will feel that--like the election to which I felt I had karmically contributed--it was all completely worth it. Yet, even in this best case scenario, there's a new reality for me which is that while I am on this treatment I will stay bald. When you are a chronic patient you hope for a treatment that will work well with manageable side effects. And if this treatment works--and if the other side effects are as ok-ish as they are now--then I will remain on it.

It's that future that I am furious about more than anything else. I want to continue to live my life, of course, but I don't want to have to do it bald! In part that is because I don't want to register to people constantly as an archetypal "cancer patient" when I know that I am so much more. It is also in part because I don't want to think of myself as being ill, and living every day having to disguise my absent hair will make that all the tougher. I have already noticed that I feel, physically, as though I am sicker because of my constantly shedding hair. How could I not, in some ways, when every move I make and every glance at myself (including in endless Zoom windows) shows me this highly visible change?

For that reason, I'm shaving my remaining hair tomorrow (Wednesday). It's a way to feel less disempowered--less like hair loss is happening to me--and wrest control of the situation back. I will try to find agreeable things about it: wigs, scarves, cozy caps, bright lipstick, statement earrings, and a general punk/Mad Max vibe that is appropriate to 2020. But I don't want anyone to think for a second that I find this agreeable, or even acceptable, or that I don't mind. I mind a whole hell of a lot. My hair was my consolation prize, my camouflage, my vanity, my folly, and my battle cry.

I dyed it purple when I was first diagnosed because I knew (or thought I knew) that I would be losing it soon. I didn't, and I came to cherish it as a symbol of my boldness in the face of circumstances trying to oppress me, to make me shrink, to tempt me to become invisible. I refused and used it to "shout" all the louder in response. Because of what it came to mean to me, I'm nearly as sad about losing the purple as I am about losing the hair itself. It both symbolized the weight I was carrying and also that I would not let that weight grind me down. It was my act of resistance and my sign resilience all at once.

I sent a text to my friends, explaining this and offering, as an idea, that I could "pass the purple" to them in some way, small or large. It would feel more like handing off a torch or a weight (or the One Ring) than anyone shaving their head in solidarity. (After all, if they did that it would just remind me as I watched theirs grow back that, in fact, our positions were very different.) You're welcome to do it if you'd like too, internet friends, with temporary or permanent dye or a wig or a headband or one of those terrible 90s hairwraps or whatever. But I don't require that anyone do it because I feel support from you all in myriad ways, all the time. (But if you do, please send me pictures!)

It's November 2020. The election is over and Joe Biden has won. I still have cancer and I'll be bald tomorrow. I hope it's a turning point, both personal and global, because it feels like one. We've given up a lot in the last four years and I cannot say that I feel in any way peaceful or accepting about having to give up yet one more thing. But in losing my hair I absolutely refuse to also give up my hope.

(On our walk we did also seem to find a version of The Tower, all that was left of an abandoned house)

#life update #my life as a cancer patient #stage 4 #mbc #metastatic breast cancer #losing my hair #unfair things #election 2020 #I just have a lot of feelings #the tower #us politics

25 notes · View notes

ariparri · 4 years ago

Text

Flowers

Pairing: Diego x Veruca (With a hint of Tulip x Carson)

Written by cursedautumn on Instagram

A/N: This was written from a story for art type of trade we made on IG. English isn’t cursedautumn's first language, so she apologizes if there are any mistakes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 1

It was the fall of 1988. This fall, in contrast to several previous ones, was full of sweet aroma of rotting leaves and the hot honey sun covering playgrounds, classrooms, and the forest near Hogwarts; fresh gold autumn leaf carpet lay on the stone slabs of the courtyard and soft field grass; saturated with moisture, the trees are seriously bent and the crystal was glittering with rain drops, remaining after another warm rain. The sky was clear and blue, with a milky foam of clouds, and it was tempting to run out of the heavy walls of the castle and lie under it, roll on the grass, feel the sweet water drops on your tongue, and run to the lake, which shone like pure crystal, and a couple of students even swam there once — although they had to report to Professor McGonagall and serve detention for quite a long time afterwards.

Veruca McQuaid went into the courtyard and sat by the fountain, near the place where everyone usually play Gobstones. After sitting in the semi-darkness of the Slytherin common room for almost twenty-four hours, she just needed a little bit of fresh air. She had expected to skip lunch and spend the rest of the day here alone with her homework and a bottle of cold pumpkin fizz, but her plans for privacy were not going to come true, because ten minutes after Veruca settled down next to the fountain, a voice came from above her head, "Hello, Veruca."

"Oh, Merlin!" thought Veruca with exasperation, and looking up, she recognized the intruder as Diego Caplan, a fellow Hufflepuff, a well-known ladies' man and a very good duelist. He always had a contented swarthy face, a strange yellow scarf, and beautiful dark eyes. He was holding a small bouquet of red roses and smiling. "Caplan? Veruca asked indifferently. "Well, hello."

"I hope I'm not interrupting you," Diego said with a charming smile. Veruca was tempted to say that he was interrupting, but she just smiled tightly and shook her head. To be honest, she was never hypocritical and enjoyed interacting with people, but right now Caplan chose a very inappropriate moment to talk to her... or whatever he wanted to do. "Did you want something?"

"Yes." Diego peremptorily handed her the aforementioned bouquet of roses and flashed his snow-white teeth. His smile was attractive and confident. "This is for you. I thought that such a beauty just needs a bouquet of flowers."

Veruca accepted the bouquet, but she wasn't sure why Diego had done it in the first place. She had never been insecure, but didn't consider herself strikingly beautiful either: a pretty face framed by dark hair, light green eyes, neat pink lips, and a well-formed figure - that's all, so Diego probably didn't want to grab her attention because of her incredible beauty, even though he said so.

She was also Coby McQuaid's sister, and a lot of guys shunned her just because they were afraid that the "crazy brother" would appear out of nowhere and wring their necks for his little sister. In general, she sceptically smiled at the bouquet, and said:

"Thank you. Now leave me alone, please, I'm a little busy."

Diego left after blowing her a final kiss, and Veruca gave the bouquet to Penny the same day — she simply couldn't believe that Caplan could really be interested in her. Most likely, he wanted new sensations, that's all. But if he thinks he's found a goal for one day, he's very, very wrong, Veruca thought with a grin as she watched Penny lovingly arrange a bouquet of roses in front of the statue of the headless knight.

Day 2

It rained that day, and the flying lesson with madam Hooch was canceled. Veruca, who had not slept well last night, was not too upset: she had no desire to cut through the thick, glass-like walls of rain on a broomstick. She spent the entire first half of the day running between classes, listening to Snape's unflattering comments about her personality, her brother, and so on, sitting in madam Rakepick's perfume-and-wood-scented classroom, and spending time with Penny and Chiara. Penny once said, "By the way, you shouldn't have refused the roses, they were so beautiful!"

"Yeah," Veruca grinned and looked at the Ravenclaw girls as they passed. One of them, a girl with dark eyes and fluffy brown hair, mentioned Diego Caplan in the conversation, and several of her friends immediately began to whisper and giggle with curiosity. It seemed that only Veruca disliked him, for even Merula spoke quite favorably of him, and if Merula approved of a person, then it was a waste of time — everyone adored him without exception, and there was nothing to be done about it.

On this day, Veruca couldn't shake the eerie yet strangely pleasant feeling that someone was watching her. Someone's already familiar dark eyes, clear and sly. It seemed to her that someone was staring at her back in class, studying her face at lunch, spying on her during recess... This, however, did not inspire her with any fear, firstly, because Veruca had managed to get used to being watched during her five years at Hogwarts, and secondly, it was a kind of harmless surveillance - as if she was an interesting performance, and she was being watched by a curious spectator. And for some reason, it never occurred to her that it might be HIM...

"Ahem-ahem."

Veruca shivered and looked up from her potions homework. In the faint greenish light of the Slytherin drawing room Merula Snyde's pale face looked like a cloud of smoky mist with two purple lightning-like eyes. She was holding a small bouquet of purple orchids wrapped in shimmering translucent pale yellow paper.

It exuded a sweet fragrance that overlaid the smell of underground dampness and pine needles (there were scented candles in the living room), and it looked lovely. A cream-colored paper was perched between the purple blossoms.

"What is it?" Veruca was taken aback. She had seen a lot in her life, but... for Merula to give her flowers?.. However, fortunately, the rival muttered, "Somebody asked me to give this to you," she plopped the bouquet on the table, the soles of her gaudy leather boots clattering indignantly, then went into their shared bedroom and slammed the door.

Veruca had no idea, freaked out if a classmate saw because it was torn away from the important contemplation of their own greatness or because Merula handed the bouquet to her and no one thought to do that; but understand she did not and pulled out a fragrant bouquet of cream paper box, which was briefly written:

"It is not good to give the gifts away, Veruca. But I'll try again, since you didn't take me seriously. -D.C.".

It wasn't hard to guess that D.C. was Diego Caplan. Well, then, he really wanted to get her attention for a while. At first Veruca felt flattered by the attention, then offended, because she didn't like intrusive people, and then she just decided to let the boy indulge. After all, she couldn't possibly forbid Diego from sending her flowers, so Veruca just got up, went to the trash can, and threw the unfortunate bouquet in there. The sweet scent gave her a headache. Let Caplan send her his stupid flowers as much as he wants. Let him... It's just a little cruel joke, isn't it?

Day 3

Sunflowers. Bright yellow, like Hufflepuff robes, as if woven from sunlight, they caught Veruca's eye as soon as she opened them. At first she didn't understand why the dark green Slytherin dorm room seemed to have a window that let in a flood of thick sun, but then she looked up and saw the pretty heads of flowers perched on her nightstand. The sunflowers didn't fit in with the luxurious and dark atmosphere of the room, and as she passed by, Ismelda grumbled that she should have gotten them, and immediately would throw them away.

Veruca, oddly enough, felt more alive and somehow light when she saw these flowers. They were so simple, of the usual yellow color, not scarlet roses or purple orchids, but she liked them very much, until she found it in the pile of golden flowers the same small creamy square, on which was written the same handwriting as yesterday:

"Attempt number three. I hope you like it and don't throw them away or give them to someone else. -D. C.".

Veruca furiously crumpled the paper and threw it away. Caplan could be as nice and generous as he liked, but his impudence and desire to use her for his own incomprehensible purposes irritated her terribly, so she hastily changed her clothes and washed up, took the sunflowers and went straight out of the living room with them, catching the surprised and mocking looks of her classmates and others. 'I'll kill you, Caplan,' Veruca thought as she left the common room.

To be honest, she liked the flowers very much, but Diego Caplan was known as a fan of ending relationships as quickly as starting them, and she wanted something more serious than being the one-night stand of a cheeky Hufflepuff.

She found Diego right after breakfast, playing Gobstones with some other Hufflepuff whose name Veruca didn't know and didn't want to know. When Caplan saw her, he broke into a satisfied smile, as if not noticing the girl's grim expression, "Sorry, Reg, there's a lady here who wants to talk to me."

"Hmmm," Reg muttered, absorbed in the game. He glanced at Veruca, who was holding a golden bouquet of sunflowers, and continued to hunch over the game. Diego got to his feet, very pleased, and sauntered over to Veruca. For some reason, she was uncomfortable with the way his gaze slid over the top button of her shirt, and she muttered, "I see you're not going to leave me alone." Diego flashed his white teeth. "Actually, it's unpleasant when your gifts are thrown away or misused."

"You'll get over it," Veruca said. Anger mixed with guilt (?!), and she just watched Diego's dark hair flutter in the light autumn wind. He was beautiful. Very handsome, no matter what... "Caplan, I'm not interested in a one-night stand. And I'm not one of those people who will throw themselves at you. So keep your flowers and give them to someone else."

"Should I keep them or give them to you?" Diego grinned. Veruca gave an exasperated sigh. "Calm down, baby. Maybe I just want to go out with you. And spend more than just one night."

Veruca gasped with indignation. Who does he think he is? "First of all," she hissed, " I'm not a baby, I'm a McQuaid, or at least just Veruca. And secondly, you want to spend not only one night, but also one day? No, thanks. I'd rather be alone than lie under someone else and then get muddied, okay?"

Diego smiled. In a strange, affectionate way, there was something mysterious and hungry in his dark brown eyes, as if she was a piece of candy that he couldn't wait to unwrap.

"I see," he said softly. "See you later, Veruca."

In the evening, after she slapped Caplan, left him and complained about him to Chiara, before going to bed, Veruca remembered that she had never returned the sunflowers, and they were shining in the dark Slytherin bedroom. Well, that's fine. They are beautiful...

Day 4

On this day, the sky suddenly frowned, clouded with a silver haze; a cold wind blew, carrying with it a pile of dead leaves, no longer burning with gold. A bloodless pallor settled over Hogwarts like a semi-transparent mist, as if someone invisible had suddenly drained the last of autumn's juices and warmth, and Veruca, wrapped in her robes, came to Herbology class. Professor Sprout, warm and plump, was as friendly as ever and talked about how to turn the most common weeds into the most common tulips, Tulip immediately noticed that she liked it, and frowned at Carson — they had a fight a couple of days ago. Rowan walked calmly past Ben, who she'd almost gotten into a fight with the day before, and Veruca noted grimly that she wasn't the only one with boy problems.

"So, get ready!" professor Sprout clapped her hands. "Today's spell does not apply to magic plants, but it helps a lot if you want to give your friend or partner a bouquet of beautiful tulips!"

"Carson only needs one beautiful Tulip," Rowan said, and she and Veruca giggled. Tulip pursed her lips grimly, "Well, yes. That's why he said yesterday that he was sick of my eternal thirst for adventure." Veruca knew perfectly well that this was said in a much milder form than the one Tulip had given her, but it was useless to argue: Carson and Tulip will make up tomorrow or the day after, which means it doesn't make sense to take their conflict seriously.

So she decided to take up the lesson and diligently wrote down everything that Professor Sprout said, and by the end of the lesson she had mastered the spell perfectly. As they were about to leave, a familiar voice called out to Veruca. A voice that stretches like hot chocolate. For some reason, she was a little pleased to hear him, although at one time she was irritated.

"How are you?" Diego sauntered over to her and touched his hand to his silky dark hair. "Did you learn your lesson with the-tulip weeds?" Veruca smiled dryly, ignoring the surprised looks from Penny and Rowan. All they probably wanted to do was tell everyone about their little affair with Diego. "And you?"

"I'm glad you asked," Caplan smiled charmingly (if Veruca had been any other student, she would have been nothing but a pink puddle) and, waving his wand as if he was going to show everyone his beautiful hands with flexible fingers, pointed to the weeds — and the unsightly, flabby plants instantly transformed into a wonderful bouquet of yellow and pink tulips with elastic buds and a pleasant aroma. Fortunately, no one was paying attention to them except Rowan and Penny, who were standing behind her, but that was enough: Veruca could feel their eyes boring into her back. Diego took the tulips and handed them to her. "Here. A bunch of tulips will add to your dark dungeons, won't they?"

She stood looking at him for a few seconds, wanting to laugh. How stupid, persistent, and sweet he is, this Diego Caplan! What a fool! Is she supposed to be flattered by such intrusive attention? Veruca didn't like it when someone invaded her personal space, and when she looked into Diego's dark chocolate eyes, she smiled, took the bouquet and said sweetly, "Thank you." She turned and shouted: "Hey, Tulip!"

"What are you doing?" Diego's smile faded instantly. Tulip watched Carson leave, then slowly walked over to Veruca and asked sadly, "What is it?"

"It's from Carson," Veruca said, and passed the flowers to Tulip. She was stunned, looking at the fresh bouquet as if it were the eighth wonder of the world, and so was Diego, and Veruca, smiling triumphantly, took her bag and left the greenhouse, feeling that she had put Diego Caplan in his place. But for some reason, the sweet feeling of victory was mixed with something bitter, like... regret?

Day 5

Veruca didn't know what was happening to her. Honestly, she just didn't understand. Diego Caplan had stopped annoying her. When she woke up in the morning, she felt a gnawing sense of guilt for giving his flowers to Tulip, for ignoring his attentions so actively, which were actually not so bad — it was better than if he was spreading his hands or making obscene compliments.

Diego was cute. He gave her flowers. And she just took it and, without even trying to be polite, rejected it. So Veruca thought the next day as she tossed and turned in the pearly gray, rattling light of morning; the bedroom was dark and quiet, except for Liz, who was snoring peacefully in her bed; Veruca suffered from the urge to go and apologize to Diego. Sunflowers added the melancholy, spreading a bunch of pure gold to the gloom of the Slytherin bedroom — Caplan's gift. Diego Caplan.

So in the morning, slipping out of the soft embrace of the bed, Veruca dressed quickly and went to breakfast before anyone else, hoping to see Diego on the threshold of the Great hall and apologize. Yes, her pride will howl...

Fortunately, Diego showed up at his table, and as soon as he finished and went to the door, Veruca left the half-eaten sausages and ran after him. Diego walked with his usual slightly swaying gait, so unhurried and confident that Veruca began to feel less confident, but she ran up and touched him on the shoulder. He turned around. He looked perfectly normal, not at all sad, and Veruca wondered if Diego wasn't upset at all. It's kind of a shame. "Veruca McQuaid," he smiled a little. "Hello."

"Hi," she stammered. Diego chuckled. "Look, I want to apologize for giving your flowers to Tulip yesterday." she found herself painfully short of words. "But Carson and Tulip made up."

Diego laughed. He had a beautiful laugh, low and clear. "How kind you are," he said. "Well, I will forgive you on one condition: you'll accept the next bouquet of flowers from me."

Veruca looked at him blankly. Does he have metal nerves or what? "Um," she said. "If you accept, I'll forgive you," Diego said, running a hand through his silky chocolate hair. Veruca noticed that they were beautifully, cleanly shining. "Do you agree?"

Veruca sighed. It's not so bad to get flowers. But she was supposed to be apologizing to him, making up for her "sins" in some way, not getting a gift, right? But Diego seemed serious, and she decided that if this was a way to let him know that she, Veruca McQuaid, was apologizing to him, let it be so: awkward, but not humiliating. It would have been far worse if he had asked her to leave him alone, or simply ignored her...

"All right," she said. "Okay, I agree." she looked into Diego's dark, shiny, soft eyes, framed by black lashes. And, for some reason, her heart fluttered with joy.

That evening, a first-year student wearing large round glasses approached Veruca. The girl was sitting on the couch reading a book when a first-year, Elora Dunn, came up to her and told her that she had received a gift. The gift was a bouquet of Calla lilies — white and pale pink, neat, velvety and delicate to the touch. Veruca took the bouquet from Elora and just stared at it for a few seconds, not noticing that the first-year had gone to her dorm and it didn't really matter.

The bouquet of Calla lilies had a delicate and soft aroma, like some ice cream. Veruca lifted the bouquet to her face, and the fragile petals brushed her cheeks. I guess sometimes you need to be able to apologize. The thought made her smile, and when she went to bed, Veruca felt extremely happy, as if a star had been lit somewhere inside her that would never go out...

Day 6

Veruca expected this farce of flowers to end after she accepted a bouquet of Calla lilies from Diego. Now, perhaps, he is tired, and he will no longer approach her with another bouquet of flowers, beautiful, bright, sweet-smelling... It would seem that Veruca should have been relieved — at last he was behind, she should be happy!

But when Diego didn't speak to her the next day, didn't even look back or come up with a bunch of flowers, she felt abandoned and sad, even though, of course, Diego didn't owe her anything. After a few days of pampering, that's enough. But why did Veruca feel that she really wanted to talk to Diego, to hear his voice again, to look into his dark, hot chocolate eyes again...

"Stop it!"

Veruca snapped, brushing her hair in front of the mirror this morning. Today, she had let her thick brown hair down, and it fell in a dark wave over her shoulders and framed her pale pink face beautifully. A bouquet of calla lilies, delicate and pleasing to the eye, stood on her bedside table and gave off a delicate fragrance.

Merula, passing by, grumbled that "McQuaid has already got everyone going mad with her flowers," but Veruca ignored this, preoccupied with her own thoughts, and put an emerald pendant around her neck to set off her eyes. Perhaps Diego might have been interested in her because of her looks, even though she hoped he liked her for more than just her pretty face...

"Stop it now. It's probably over. He's tired of you, and you're tired of him. And it is over."

But now she didn't want it to end so much. It was Saturday, and Veruca had decided to stop by the Hospital wing to help madam Pomfrey — sometimes on weekends she tended to patients and helped the elderly matron with some medical matters. Madam Pomfrey was not in the wing today, so Veruca began sorting through the used bottles of medicinal potions, selecting those that needed to be washed and those that needed to be treated first with a special antiseptic — the potions in them had to be poured into an exceptionally clean container.

Working here was very boring and time-consuming, but Veruca felt that sorting out bottles, bandaging wounds, and so on would help her miraculously put her confused thoughts in order. There was something right and clear about it. Suddenly the doors opened and Veruca turned to greet madam Pomfrey, but when she saw who it was, she froze, startled.

Diego Caplan stood in the doorway of the Hospital wing with a bouquet of pink flowers with crimson cores and yellow petals — Alstroemeria. He was smiling, and it seemed to warm Veruca. She just stared at Diego for a few seconds, unable to say anything, and he stepped up to her, "I didn't specify how many bouquets you should accept in order for me to forgive you."

Veruca opened her mouth awkwardly, "Oh... I... thank you," was all she said. Diego gave her a deep, mesmerizing smile.She picked up the flowers and then felt her nose itch and sneezed. "Bless you."

"Thank you... ah!" Veruca sneezed again. Her nose itched, her throat seemed to narrow slightly, and it was harder to breathe. Diego looked at her blankly. Veruca wiped her nose and looked at Alstroemeria. Then she slapped her forehead and started laughing.

"What is it?" Diego looked startled. "Hey, Veruca? What happened?" he took her by the shoulder. Veruca sneezed again, already trying to hide her slight pleasance at the touch of someone else's warm fingers, and said, "I'm allergic to these flowers..."

Diego looked so dumbfounded that she was sneezing and laughing for a long time, and then stopped sneezing and continued to laugh until dinner. But there were still tulips and sunflowers in her room, and the alstroemeria had to be given to Chiara, who was happy to put them in her dorm, so there were enough flowers for everyone, there was no doubt about that...

Day 7

Veruca slept well that night. She dreamed of Diego, smiling, wearing a light gray frock coat and holding a bouquet of roses. They seemed to be dancing under a vast starry sky, and from somewhere an unfamiliar melody was flowing, light and pleasant; it ran like a stream between stones, harmonious, subtle; then Diego suddenly literally disappeared, the melody stopped, everything was plunged into darkness for a few seconds, and Veruca woke up.

There was a strange, happy peace in her soul, and at the same time an anticipation of something very, very good; outside the window, the morning haze turned the ground and horizon ruby and tangerine, and the dim bedroom was bathed in warm light. Her roommates were snoring peacefully in their beds, behind the drawn curtains, and Veruca was left to her own thoughts and beautiful dream...

Everything went fine in the morning: the weather was fine again, and Veruca liked her own reflection in the mirror very much today — her hair were shining, her eyes were shining, her face was fresh and rested; it was a warm Sunday outside the window, and she wasn't even annoyed by the ever-dissatisfied Merula and the untidy Ismelda. Veruca cleaned her room peacefully, had a breakfast of scrambled eggs, played a game of gobstones with Tulip and Carson, who made up and looked at each other with loving eyes again, and passed her Charms homework.

But the best part, what she had been subconsciously waiting for all this time, happened after lunch. She and Diego ran into each other near the forest. It was empty: the students were gathered closer to the castle. The first thing Veruca saw was a familiar blue denim jacket, and then a bunch of blood — red carnations and familiar soft dark brown eyes. At first, she couldn't believe her eyes: another bouquet?

Diego stopped when he saw her. Grinned. "This is the last one," he said, turning over a bunch of carnations wrapped in milky white shimmering paper. "I hope you're not allergic to carnations."

"No," Veruca said, and then automatically repeated to herself, "the last one." Just a few days ago, she wanted it so much, and now...

"Along with this bouquet," Diego announced softly, smiling, "I want to ask you out, Veruca McQuaid. What do you say?"

Veruca froze. Ask her out? On a date? Diego Caplan? Her?

"I will understand if you refuse," Diego was calm. "But accept the bouquet. This is the last one."

And he handed her the flowers. Veruca picked up the delicate scarlet flowers wrapped in paper and stared at them for a few seconds. They were so beautiful. Fragrant. And from him...

The sun shone even brighter. The foliage is flushed with pure gold. Hogwarts castle suddenly became not clumsy and heavy, but majestic and beautiful. Veruca looked at Diego, feeling her heart flutter sweetly, happily, and sing, and Diego seemed to her the most beautiful young man on earth, and a bouquet of carnations was the most beautiful gift, the most elegant and appropriate...

"Well, so what?" Diego held out his hand. "How about a walk in the woods, an evening at Hogsmeade, Madame Puddifoot's cafe, and the company of a handsome man like me, hmm?"

Veruca couldn't help but laugh. "I agree, handsome man," she said softly, and put her hand in his. They walked towards the forest, through the golden trees, looking at each other and assessing each other anew...

And that was just the beginning of their story.

And the reason for everything...

Were flowers.

#ariparri #Veruca McQuaid #Diego Caplan #DieRuca #Diego x Mc #hogwarts mystery #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #fanart #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery mc #hphm fanart #hphm fic #hphm fanfiction #hogwarts mystery fanfic #HPHM Diego

27 notes · View notes

ieatmypizzawithaforkandknife · 4 years ago

Text

MAG 018 - The Man Upstairs

Summary: Jonathan reads the statement of Christof Rudenko, regarding “his interactions with a first-floor resident of Welbeck House, Wandsworth.”

Obligatory confession of American confusion: This episode is about 23 minutes long, and it took me until somewhere around the 20-minute mark before I had my light-bulb moment about Toby Carlisle being a “first-floor resident”. By “first floor” he means “SECOND floor” in American speak. Yes, that’s right - I spent almost the entire episode confused about which floor this guy really lived on. (For anyone not in the know, in the U.S. the “first floor” is the floor that you walk into a building on, that you don’t use any steps or stairs to access. It is also called the ground floor - they are the same thing. If you go up one flight of stairs, you are now on the second floor, not the first.)

The first-floor-second-floor thing was pretty much the only mystery I solved this episode though. I definitely enjoyed the episode (despite feeling like throwing up myself at some of the descriptions), but as with most of the episodes, I’m left with far more questions and tantalizing clues than actual answers.

Christof describes the odd, unpleasant odor around Toby Carlisle as “halfway between the smell of the pavement after a rain on a hot day and chicken that’s starting to turn”. The second part of that makes sense, given the state of Toby’s apartment when Christof enters it at the end, but I’m having trouble placing what exactly that first part is supposed to smell like. More interesting to me though is the fact that the smell was already there when Christof moved in, even though the banging from Toby’s apartment didn’t start until almost two years later. It seems reasonable to assume the banging was Toby nailing the various meats to the walls, floor, ceiling, etc., but if that’s the case, then where was that smell coming from for the years prior to that? Did it originate with Toby himself, or did his excess meat problem cause the smell long before he actually started nailing them to the walls?

When Christof returned the incorrectly delivered package to Toby’s apartment, we get possibly the most detailed description of any part of Toby in the entire episode: “The hand was thin and pale, with long, filthy yellow fingernails. On the back, I saw a single dark red mark that might have been a cut or a lesion, but it was gone before I had a chance to see it in more detail.” The “single dark red mark” is likely the beginning of the “puckered, septic lesions and holes” Christof sees in Toby’s dead face at the end of the episode (some part of me wants to say it reminds me of Jared Key’s eye tattoos from episode 12...but I’m trying to ignore that possibility), but the fingernails are what really piqued my interest. Christof tells himself for most of the episode that Toby just has a severe hygiene issue, but if it was straight-up uncleanliness, his fingernails would be primarily brown or black, caked with dirt or grime, that sort of thing. Instead, they are yellow more than anything else. This is the first of five mentions of the color yellow in this episode - the second is the color of the growing stain on Christof’s dining room ceiling, the third is the color of the liquid that oozes out of the hole in the ceiling after it collapses, the fourth is the color of the rotting meat covering Toby’s apartment, and the fifth is the color of the “fluid” that “oozed” from the creepy af pile of meat in Toby’s kitchen. The similarity in the colors indicates a direct connection between Toby himself (that is, his body) and the rotten meat. But the pieces of meat that lined his apartment were, in Christof’s estimation, pieces of various non-human animals - so if we take him at his word, the rotten meat wasn’t literally from Toby, so something external caused both Toby and the meat to excrete that sickly yellow rot.

So what made it target or infect Toby? No clue, since we don’t have any background on him, but I sure hope it wasn’t done by touch alone: Christof got some of that yellow slime on his jacket sleeve when Toby snatched the package from him. He said he couldn’t get rid of the smell and eventually threw the jacket out - but then he accidentally touched the stuff while fumbling for the light switch in Toby’s apartment at the end. When they followed up with him, he said “he had had no further experiences he believed to be linked to these events” and I don’t have any specific reason to disbelieve that - except that that means Toby wasn’t infected by just touching the wrong thing (or person). This isn’t a Jane Prentiss-type infection. So what’s Toby’s story?

And just what was in that package? “The envelope was thick and soft - it must have been mainly full of bubble wrap or other packing material.” So...it wasn’t meat? Because that would have been two puzzle pieces fitting together quite nicely, canceling each other out, and I’m more than a little irked that that wasn’t the case. It’s like Jonathan said at the end: “Where was he getting the meat?” At first, the sheer quantity of meat reminded me, vaguely, of the bag of teeth from episode 5. Both were a multitude of body parts. But those teeth were human and the meat is (apparently) from animals, and all the teeth were identical, whereas these meats are all different cuts from different animals. Notably, they’re all animals that are typically eaten by humans - Christof mentions steaks, chicken, and lamb among them. This seems to be more of that theme of rotten food, although in this case I think the “rotten” is more important than the “food”.

Despite all these questions I have, none of these things are directly harmful. Sure, Christof’s ceiling caves in, but no one besides Toby dies or gets hurt (that we know of). But that pile at the end...I got some Seriously Bad Vibes from that. To recap, Christof found in Toby’s kitchen “a pile of discarded meat and bone stacked almost as high as a person. It seemed almost less decayed than the rest of it, though that foul yellow fluid oozed from it, and…when I looked at that heaped pile of meat…it moved. I don’t know how - I don’t know quite how to explain it, other than it opened its eyes. It opened all its eyes. The next thing I remember is the police’s arrival” - and then suddenly the pile of meat was gone. There are two things here - inherently connected, I’m sure - that I’d like to point out.

First is the eyes. Creepy or out-of-place eyes have been mentioned every few episodes so far in the series: in the painting on Mary Key’s wall in episode 4, in Wilfred Owen’s death in episode 7, in the eye pendants in episode 9, in Jared Key’s eye tattoos in episode 12 (as well as the eye in the security camera in that same episode). And with each new appearance (particularly the one in this episode) I’m starting to get more and more worried about whatever being or creature or presence the eyes belong to.

Which brings me to the second thing. One of the recurring themes in these stories has been what I’ve taken to calling “altered reality” - when things appear one way but, we find out later, were actually quite different. When Graham is confused by Amy mentioning his nonexistent window box in episode 3. When Laura tries to reverse out of the squeeze in the cave in episode 15 and her foot hits solid rock. When the pile of meat straight-up disappears in this very episode. I want to be clear - those examples of “altered reality” are not what I’m talking about when I discuss a new (to me) theme: the incomprehensible. This pile of...whatever...in Toby’s kitchen is literally incomprehensible to Christof. He can’t even put into words what he saw. It’s like either the words don’t exist to describe what he saw or his brain can’t comprehend it - or possibly both. He says, “when I looked at that heaped pile of meat…it moved. I don’t know how - I don’t know quite how to explain it, other than it opened its eyes. It opened all its eyes.” Being unable to trust your senses due to some “altered reality” is terrifying, but to experience something that is literally incomprehensible and indescribable is just another level of terrifying. And the one thing most clearly intertwined with this incomprehensibility Christof experiences? The eyes. Specifically, the eyes opening.

We’ve seen this incomprehensibility before, albeit in slightly less terrifying (IMO) situations. In episode 3, Amy describes the creature entering Graham’s window: “When I say it moved, that’s not quite right - it shifted. Like when you stare at one of those old magic eye paintings and you change from seeing one picture into seeing another.” But much more blatantly and recently, in episode 17 Sebastian describes reading an excerpt from The Boneturner’s Tale: the Boneturner “crept up to the Miller while he slept. It described him silently reaching inside him and…it’s a bit hazy. All I remember clearly is the line ‘and from his rib a flute to play that merry tune of marrow took’. And as for the rest, I don’t recall in detail.” The second example concerns me much more than the first. I feel bad for Graham, of course, and I really want to know what that creature was...but The Boneturner’s Tale was a Leitner and seemed to have the power to deform anyone who touched it.

By themselves, it doesn’t appear that the eyes are doing anything. They’re just eyes, after all. No limbs, no body. But I don’t know if they really are just watching, or if their form and actions are so incomprehensible to humans that the people in these stories essentially can’t perceive it. And if they are just watching...what are they watching for, and what’s going to happen when they see it?

This post is part of a series where I write my thoughts about each episode and obsessively connect dots in an effort to figure out The Big Mysteries of the series. All posts in this series are tagged “is this liveblogging?” Comments and messages are welcome but I have only listened to season 1, so I ask that you not spoil me for anything beyond episode 40. In the words of Jonny Sims…thanks for listening!

#personal #liveblogging #is this liveblogging?#The Magnus Archives #this is some serious Eldritch horror crap starting guys and I Do Not Like #(I mean I actually do but it freaks me right the fuck out for sure)

7 notes · View notes

flowers-creativity · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober day 3: Forced to kneel/held at gunpoint

Fandom: The Musketeers

Characters: Aramis, Porthos, Athos (Comte de la Fere)

Warnings: Blood, canon-typical violence

Notes: Giving up on summaries, sorry, everyone...

Living on the wild side writing in real-time and posting with barely any editing *yeet* ... If you find any mistakes, you're free to keep them.

AO3 link

“Kneel.”

Aramis raised his head and straightened his shoulders, ignoring the muzzle of the pistol digging into his back. “Excuse me?” he asked mildly as if he hadn't understood what he was asked to do.

The man, a minor noble with delusions of grandeur, scowled and repeated more forcefully: “Kneel. That's what you do before your king every day, don't you? Scraping and slobbering for his attention like the dogs that you are.” A sneer twisted his features. “Though you're a pretty one, so you're more of a lapdog, I guess, not one of his attack dogs.”

Aramis tried to smile pleasantly though he could feel tension seeping into it. It was one thing to deal with a disgruntled and rebellious man but this one was clearly approaching madman territory. “You should give him more credit,” he said, “he's quite content with bowing, most of the time.” He raised an eyebrow. “I could indulge you with one of those, maybe?” he offered. It was risky, of course, but if he twisted just right … After all, there was only the man at his back, the others of the noble's small force still out there looking for his brothers. He needed to get free before they returned, with or without the other Musketeers. Preferably without them, though that could also mean two very different things.

In any case, he would show this man that he was anything but a lapdog.

The muzzle dug deeper into his back, and the noble snapped: “On your knees! I won't ask again.” At the same time, the heavy hand resting on Aramis' shoulder began exerting pressure, and even though he tried to resist, his legs bowed involuntarily until his knees hit the dirt.

He held his head high and stared at the man with all the scorn he could muster, which was quite a bit. “Happy now?” he asked.

The noble pursed his lips and stared hard at the kneeling man. “It'll do,” he finally said. “Stay there and don't move – I will think about what to do with you once your friends have joined you.” He got up from the box he had used as a makeshift chair and moved away, leaving Aramis' field of vision and leaving him in the company of his silent sentinel, the hard edge of the muzzle pressing against his neck now as a constant reminder not to move.

It did not take long until his knees and back began to hurt from the uncomfortable position he had been left in, but Aramis refused to show any outward signs of his discomfort. Instead, he finally broke the silence and said to his warden cheerfully: “The weather is nice these days, isn't it? Almost summer. And in a region like this, it's surely quite enjoyable!”

The man grunted and shoved his head forward with the pistol. “No talking!” he barked.

“Don't be like that. I'm just trying to pass the time until your friends come back,” Aramis said. “They seem to take their sweet time with it, don't you think? And here you are, stuck back in camp watching me kneel. Very rewarding, I assume.” Sharp pain at his temple interrupted his stream of words, and he gasped, swaying slightly. But the pistol at the back of his head had disappeared.

“I said no talking!” The guard stepped to the side, and Aramis took his chance. He threw himself to the other side, his leg shooting out and hooking behind the man's knee, and he half pulled, half kicked him. A short outcry escaped the man as he was wrenched to the side and overbalanced, following his prisoner down to the ground. Aramis breathed in sharply when he landed on the rough ground but did not waste time. He pushed himself up and turned around, launching himself at the other man. His bound hands grappled for purchase, and for a moment, he could take hold of the man's belt and one flailing arm. Then another hit clipped his temple, he was shoved to the side and rolled over, and the guard loomed above him, face dark with fury. “You insolent worm!” he spat as he grabbed Aramis' upper arms.

Aramis didn't bother replying. At least the man had lost the pistol, and while his hands were bound, he could still fight this way. He brought his hands up between them, interlocked in a double fist, and rammed them into the man's face. Something gave way under his hands, and blood began rushing out of his opponent's nose down on him. The Musketeer gave him a feral grin that would have made Porthos proud, then pulled up his knee and shoved it into the man's lower body. A grunt was his reward, and he pushed again, feeling the hold on his arms loosening. Slowly, the guard toppled off him to the side, and he wasted no time to shove him away and scrabble upright, then shuffle forward until he was directly above him. “You deserve a nap,” he told him as the man blinked up at him in a daze. Again folding both hands together in a fist, Aramis brought them down on the man's head, and with a small sound escaping the guard, his eyes rolled back in his head.

Aramis let himself slump to the side, breathing hard. He knew he needed to move, to find a knife to free himself and then his weapons, but for a moment, all he could do was blink his eyes and convince his body that no, having a rest was not in the cards for him.

He straightened up – and froze at the sound of footsteps approaching. He had hoped the noble was not close enough to hear the scuffle but today was not his day, it seemed.

“Aramis?” a voice came floating from behind him, sounding almost uncertain – and oh, he would know this deep, rolling bass everywhere. Tension seeped out of his shoulders like water, and he turned his head and grinned over his shoulder at his brother. “Porthos! So nice of you to join us!”

Porthos' worried frown only deepened, and he hastily took the remaining few steps to Aramis' side. “You alright?” he asked even as he already drew his main gauche and set to work cutting Aramis' bonds. “You're hurt?” His gaze lingered on Aramis' face, and it took the marksman a moment to understand before he remembered the guard's nose breaking and the amount of blood that had rained down on him.

“Ah, not much.” Aramis shrugged and drew back his hands when Porthos released them, now free of the rope around his wrists. He rubbed them with a wince and added: “The blood's not mine. I got a hit to the head but I can see straight – so I possibly escaped a concussion, this time.”

Porthos grunted, the worry lines in his face smoothing out slightly. “Your lucky day.”

Aramis grinned, nodding. Then he looked around and frowned. “Where's Athos? d'Artagnan?”

“Athos is--” Porthos started, then stopped. “Athos is coming – and look, he's made a friend!”

Aramis looked in the direction Porthos was pointing in and had to laugh. There his friend was, striding towards them with long steps, and behind him, he was dragging the noble who was ineffectually sputtering at him in sentence fragments like “you have no right!” and “--hanged for this!” Their leader came to a stop before them and looked Aramis up and down. “Are you alright?” he asked in a clipped tone that was barely covering the worry underneath – at least for someone who had known him as long as Aramis had.

“I'm fine,” the marksman said. “You have great timing.”

Porthos snorted. “Not really,” he said. To Athos, he added: “He already took out that one before I got here.” He nodded at the guard lying insensate on the ground. The noble devolved in another bout of incomprehensible outrage.

Aramis smiled and got up laboriously, gratefully accepting Porthos' hand in support. “Still great to have you here now.” He looked around again and frowned, repeating his earlier question: “d'Artagnan?”

“I sent him off to send a message to Treville – informing the Captain of treason took precedence over a rescue mission, I'm afraid,” Athos explained. “As much as it seems the latter was not all that needed.” He nodded at Porthos. “Tie that one to his master,” he ordered, with a gesture to the unconscious guard, ignoring the protests from the noble with a great deal of experience.

Aramis shook his head, the last bit of tension evaporating and leaving him feeling wrung-out and beaten. “I bet he loved that,” he murmured and got a bark of laughter from Porthos and a half-smile from Athos in return.

“He did not,” the swordsman allowed. “But alas, duty called, and we are the King's men.”

“That we are.” Aramis nodded and then grinned at the captive noble. He playfully snapped his teeth at him and gave a short bark. “But not his lapdogs.”

#whumptober2020 #no.3 #forced to kneel #held at gunpoint #the musketeers #fanfic #blood #flower writes #aramis #porthos #athos

13 notes · View notes

badass-women-league · 4 years ago

Text

TIVALI

PART 26 - Annoyingly charming

Ziva walked out of the building and to the table to join the rest of the team. Ellie waved at her as she saw her coming closer. She was sitting on the picnic table. Ziva waved back at her and noticed Tony and Nick, sat at another table. They were facing each other. McGee was standing next to them with his watch in hand. Ziva sat next to Ellie and gave her the food she had ordered. Ellie thanked Ziva. Ziva asked: ⠀

-“what are they doing ?”⠀

-“brain freezing…”⠀

-“oh my god…again ? ⠀

-”Yes.. again. Nick claimed that the last time Tony’s drink was not as cold as his and the results were skewed”⠀

-”When are they going to stop their stupid contest ?”⠀

-“when one of them will be designated as the best of all Gibbs’ agents” ⠀

-“How is this even relevant ?” Ziva sighed “who is winning ?” ⠀

-“Tony won the ‘paper ball basketball’ and the ‘pizza speed eating’ and Nick won the ‘paper plane challenge’. McGee is trying to determine who has the most resistant brain”⠀

Ziva rolled her eyes and bitterly said: ⠀

-“They have no brain!”. ⠀

Ellie asked: ⠀

-“how did you manage to work with two men for so many years ?”⠀

-“men ? I was working with two teenagers. One with raging hormones and the other one was playing ‘elf lord’ online” ⠀

-“did I ever tell you that I really admire you” ⠀

-“several times yes” ⠀

They both laughed while Tony and Nick were moaning and holding their heads to soothe the pain of their frozen brains. ⠀

Tony was awakened by the sound of someone searching through the drawers in the kitchen. He grumbled and grabbed his pillow to cover his ears. This was supposed to be his sleep-in morning. This thought made him realize that the house was supposed to be empty. Ziva was gone with the kids for a couple of hours. If Ziva was gone with the kids.. then who was turning his kitchen upside down ? He jumped from the bed and walked to the window to check the cars. Ziva’s car was gone and his was still there. He slowly walked to the wardrobe and grabbed an iron box. He unlocked it and grabbed his old gun. He loaded it as he walked down the stairs with only his boxers to cover his body. He made sure to be as quiet as possible. He stopped behind the wall and peaked inside the room. He couldn't see anything as the intruder was kneeling behind the countertop. Tony rushed inside and raised his gun in the intruder’s direction: ⠀

-“FREEZE ! HANDS IN THE AIR ! NO SUDDEN MOVES” ⠀

Tony’s jaw dropped as he saw a woman, probably in her sixties, stood up in front of him. She frowned at him and started to shout in a language that Tony didn’t understand. He did not understand it yes.. but he knew it. She was shouting in Hebrew and she was obviously very upset. She threw a pan lid at him, then a spatula. Tony lowered his gun and apologized: ⠀

-“wait… stop…” ⠀

She kept shouting incomprehensible things.⠀

Tony dodged a ladle and said: ⠀

-“please we can work this out ok. I am Ziva’s husband, this is my house”⠀

As he dodged another kitchen utensil, he heard the front door unlock. He thought ‘Thank god Ziva is back’. ⠀

As Ziva walked in with the kids and her arms full of grocery bags, she froze when she saw the scene in the kitchen. Her eyes stopped on Tony’s gun. She dropped her bags on the floor and rushed to the still shocked woman: ⠀

-“Oh my god Tony what did you do !”⠀

-“nothing ! I woke up and someone I didn’t know was in my kitchen” ⠀

Ziva hugged the woman and after saying a few words in hebrew she turned back to Tony:⠀

-“I left you a message on your phone”⠀

-“I thought someone was trying to rob us, I didn’t check my phone” ⠀

-“This is Nettie.. my aunt, Tony !”⠀

-“Yes ! Thank you ! I figured it out when she started throwing things at me while she was insulting me in hebrew...I thought she was supposed to arrive this weekend” ⠀

Ziva sighed:⠀

-“Nettie surprised us this morning by arriving early to have more time with the kids. You know what.. I am sorry. This is my fault, I should have told you before leaving. I didn’t want to wake you up.” ⠀

She turned to her aunt and explained the big misunderstanding. The two women talked for a minute and laughed. Tony who was still standing in the middle of the kitchen in his boxer said: ⠀

-“you’re mocking me right ? I can understand that you know” ⠀

Ziva walked to him and landed a sweet kiss on his lips: ⠀

-“actually no, my love. Nettie was telling me that she thinks you are a pretty handsome man and that even though this is a pretty weird first encounter she thinks you are a very brave man” ⠀

Tony said:⠀

-“I love her already..” ⠀

Nettie winked at Tony. He awkwardly smiled and suddenly felt like running upstairs to put on some more appropriate clothes. ⠀

It was good to be reunited with her aunt. The last member of her former life. Ziva, Nettie and Tali had spent the entire afternoon cooking food from Ziva’s native land. For Tony’s greatest happiness. His stomach was full. Nettie looked at Ziva and said something in Hebrew that made her laugh. As she saw Tony’s confused face, she explained:

-”She said: ‘The way to a man's heart is through his stomach’, this is something my grandmother used to say”

He stood up to gather some dirty plates from the table and said:

-”your grandmother was a wise woman”

-”we all are..” and she smirked at him.

Nettie had brought some gifts for the kids and some old pictures in her luggage for Ziva. Ziva was looking at some when Tony passed behind her and as he looked at the picture he said:

-”Is that you ?”

He pointed at a toddler in a woman’s arms. Ziva said with a proud smile:

-”yes, it’s me and my mother..”

-”wow she was a beauty”

Ziva chuckled:

-”Flattery would not have gotten you anywhere with her. She was the real mama bear. She raised 2 kids in a conflicted country and an absent husband and never once complained about it. She was a real force of nature. I’ve never seen her cry or show any sign of weakness and she would have had thousands of reasons to lose it”

Tony sat back and said:

-”I wish I could have met her”

-”she would have loved you”

-”you think ?”

-”yes.. Well, maybe not at first. My mother was always very distrustful at first, even more when it came to her children. You had to earn her trust and it was nothing like shooting fish in a tank”

-”reminds me of someone.. ”

Ziva smiled. Tony added:

-“it’s a barrel by the way..”

She looked confused:

-”What ?”

Tony smiled at her wife stubbornness to use american idioms and said:

-”nevermind”

Ziva continued:

-”but then she would have seen you with the kids and she would have loved you like her own child”

A particular picture drew her attention. She picked it from the pile and said:

-”oh my god. I did not remember I gave this to Nettie”

Ziva looked at the picture and said to Tony: ⠀

-”I thought those pictures were all gone in the fire”⠀

She gave the picture to Tony. He took it and recognize instantly what was on this picture. Tony asked: ⠀

-”How far along were you ?”⠀

-”3 months I think” ⠀

Tony could not get his eyes off the picture. A little smile appeared on his lips. A pride smile mixed with some regrets. He said:⠀

-”Tali come here”⠀

The little girl ran to her father and sat on his lap. Tony said:⠀

-”I’m gonna show you something. You remember when we showed you that picture of Adam, when he was still in Ima’s belly ? Well this, my dear, is the first picture of you” ⠀

He showed the picture to Tali and the little girl chuckled: ⠀

-”no it’s not” ⠀

She first thought that her father was messing with her. Tony continue:⠀

-”yes it is. You were still in Ima’s belly and you were not bigger than this.” He used his fingers to show her how little she was at that time. “Look you are here” ⠀

He pointed at the fetus on the ultrasound. Tali grabbed the picture and looked at it with rapt attention. She was holding it very close to her eyes. She asked:⠀

-“this is me ?”⠀

-“yes! My little girl, not bigger than a peach and now look at you. My baby is in 3rd grade” ⠀

Tony tickled Tali’s side. She laughed and said:⠀

-”Yes ! I’m a big girl now” ⠀

Tony chuckled:⠀

-”Hold on Wendy ! You are not in Neverland yet. Until I say so, you are still be my little girl who needs her dad to push her on the swing, who still gets mad when she has to wear a band-aids, who…”⠀

Tali shushed her dad by putting her hands on his mouth to stop him. Tony laughed and kissed his child on her forehead. He will always have this particular relationship with her. A relationship acquired through the difficult times of being a single father. She had showed him the right way. She made him feel complete even though one half of him was gone for an indefinite period. He discovered through her, what it felt like to be someone’s everything. It had been scary but such a cathartic experience. ⠀

Ziva was in the kitchen. She was preparing dinner. Adam, who was now 18 months old was running around. Ziva was keeping an eye on him while she was cooking. He was seeking Ziva’s attention, sitting in the middle of his mother’s path, touching forbidden stuff and climbing furniture. She said: ⠀

-”Adam sweetheart, Ima is busy here. Go see Aba. I am sure he is doing something fun with your sister.”⠀

Adam shook his head and said:⠀

-”nah!” ⠀

He was still in his ‘Ima only phase’ and unfortunately he was as stubborn as his mother. Adam was looking for every way that could get his mother’s attention until he grabbed the table runner on the dining room table. Ziva saw him and said: ⠀

-”Adam don’t”⠀

He pulled it. ⠀

-”Adam. Don’t make me come over !” ⠀

He pulled it once more and Ziva saw the vase on it swaying. Ziva sighed and walked to him. She frowned and said: ⠀

-”Adam Jethro DiNozzo !” ⠀

In the living room, Tony and Tali were watching a movie when Tony heard his wife calling his son. He looked at Tali and asked:⠀

-”Did she just called him by his full name ?”⠀

Tali nodded. Tony winced and said: ⠀

-”He must be in a lot of trouble then” ⠀

He stood up and walked to the kitchen. As he entered he saw his son, sitting on the floor looking at his mother with the most charming smile on his face. Ziva said:⠀

-”Don’t ! Stop using your father’s smile against me ! It’s not working anymore” ⠀

Tony chuckled, grabbed his son and said: ⠀

-”She is lying. It’s working. Admit it Sweetcheeks, there is nothing you can do about it” ⠀

Ziva was in a terrible position. She was facing her husband and son, both smiling in the most charming way. She was disarmed. She gave her husband a gentle slap on his buttocks and said: ⠀

-”get out of my kitchen, both of you, before I decide to ground you both !” ⠀

Tony smirked and, before leaving the room, said to his son:⠀

-”come on buddy, let’s go somewhere else where people appreciate The DiNozzo charm to their true value”⠀

#ncis #tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #tali david dinozzo #cotedepablo #michaelweatherly #tivali #fanfiction #ncis fanfiction

20 notes · View notes