#like obviously plagiarism does happen but still the difference exists | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

toast-the-unknowing · 1 month ago

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This post is really making me churn over some thoughts that have been stewing for, well, at least a year. Because a year ago, I found out that someone had plagiarized several of my fics.

At the time, I struggled to articulate exactly why it upset me as much as it did. In a way, it didn't matter, because I didn't need to articulate it: People were supportive. People told me, yes, girl, you get to be upset! And there were big, obvious reasons that it was upsetting, reasons that I could identify. But I felt like there was something else. I kept asking myself, "Well, why DOES it matter, really. Nothing was TAKEN AWAY FROM YOU. Your fic is still up there with all the comments it ever had." It had more comments than before, even. People who read the plagiarized versions came and said nice things to me. These were people who never read the canon, people who therefore never would have read my fic and never would have commented on it. So in purely transactional terms, in the question of the absolute number of comments I got, I actually came out ahead. In a way. So why was I upset?

Reading this post today, this bit really stood out to me:

Attention obviously wasn't why the writer was writing--they were writing to participate, and they didn't get to. At all.

I think that's the piece that I was struggling to put my finger on. I think it matters that the plagiarism happened in a period of my life when I felt even less than usual like I had a community to belong to. I reckon a lot of people are feeling that way, in this era we're calling post-covid. So it hits those people, it hit me, even harder than it might have otherwise, to feel shut out of participating in a fandom community. For some people that's maybe the last place they really felt they had any community left.

I imagine, for the folks in the secret discord rec servers, that the secret discord rec server IS their community, but that's not much help the folks outside of it. The answer obviously isn't "you shouldn't HAVE secret discord rec servers!" because the horse is out of the barn on that one, my friends, and besides, I don't want to be out here saying you have to let everyone into all of your spaces. This isn't elementary school, you don't have to bring enough for the whole class. And the idea of "well, if you HAVE to have a secret discord rec server, then you have to go leave a pro forma compliment on the fic itself"…idk, man, that's not it either. Increasing the comments that just say "I liked this!" is going to make a lot of writers smile and have a spring in their step for a bit, sure, but it's not going to do much to restore a sense of community. Saying "hi, how are you" when you bump into your neighbor is great, but if that's the only interaction you ever have with anyone in your zip code, that's not much of a neighborhood.

It's one of those twisty situations where I hate the picture as a whole and yet I don't find any individual action objectionable. Sometimes people don't leave comments, even on a fic they really loved. I'm not going to shame or berate anyone for that. Sometimes people tell their friends about things they loved. Sometimes those conversations happen in spaces that aren't visible to others, because people like to hang out with their friends in their own spaces that are free of people they don't know or don't like.

None of that is in and of itself malicious. (I bet some of the shit that gets said on some of those secret discord servers gets pretty nasty, but hey: all the more reason to be saying it somewhere I don't have to see it.) And yet when OP said they have been systematically excluded by the very people they thought were part of the community they thought they could participate in, it resonated with me, specifically about the time someone stole my fanfic and reposted it in a fandom that I didn't know existed.

What do you do about a situation where the intentions are totally different, the causes are totally different, but the end result feels so similar?

I've been thinking about communal vs individual story telling a lot lately, because I'm getting back into improv, and when you do improv people tend to ask you do you do stand-up, will you do stand-up, when will you do stand-up. I usually tell people that I don't do stand-up because it's so much fucking work. But I'm also realizing more and more that I love improv for the communal aspect, and I find the solitary nature of stand-up demotivating.

I've written screenplays and I've written novels and I've mostly written exclusively fanfic, and I think a lot of the reason for that is fanfic has that communal aspect. That's part of the fun, and that's part of the motivation. You write fanfic because "this is a gift for a friend and I know she'll love it, this is an exchange fic for someone I don't know so I went and read their whole blog and I HOPE they'll love it, this is a trope I loved when I saw someone else do it, this is a trope I fucking hated when I saw someone else do it so I'm going to do it right, this is an idea that was circulating tumblr as a three sentence plot bunny that caught my imagination and won't let it go, this is an opinion I have about this ship and I have GOT to know if anyone else sees it the same way, this is a thing I love and please won't someone love it with me…"

The communal aspect can also be part of the motivation in the sense of "fanfic is a faster and easier way of getting external validation than going through the slow and grueling process of publishing and marketing a book with no built-in audience." That's fine. If folks are hoping to get some compliments for their fanfic, they're allowed to hope for that, and telling them "you SHOULDN'T care about that, and therefore it doesn't matter if you get it or not" is unlikely to change hearts and minds, except in regard to those hearts' and minds' opinion of you specifically. It's also missing the point. If you say, "Toast, you ONLY do improv because you don't have the attention span for stand-up," you're skipping over and discrediting all the special beautiful moments that can only happen in improv. You're missing the point.

The communal nature of fanfic is a huge part of the joy of fanfic. And the fact that it is a communal act means that, as the community is drains away, it becomes harder and less fun.

I don't know what we do about the alienation that so many fans are feeling. Sometimes it sounds like all of that it's so hard to make friends as an adult discourse, where the more that you hear people say it, the worse of a problem you know it is, and yet it almost feels like the omnipresence of the complaint should itself be the solution somehow -- all of you are lonely? Go be each other's friends! Everyone in fandom feels disconnected? Go talk to someone, boom, now you have a connection!

That's obviously not how life works, and to the extent that there's structural forces at play dismantling our communities, they can't be solved by individual acts of leaving a comment, or sending an ask, or @-ing an author when you post a rec. A lot of the comments I've received on fic have been self-contained niceties, which I loved getting, but which didn't go beyond that.

But some of the comments have led me to go create more art. Some of the comments have made me feel a sense of belonging. One comment straight up gave me insight into my own psyche that I did not consciously possess before that. And some comments have led to friendships, and one of those friendship meant that this weekend, I had a silly little conversation about a silly non-fannish thing, and the 'aha, there's a fic idea in here' part of my brain lit up and I wrote four thousand words of a brand new fanfic for the first time in a year and a goddamn half.

I don't know that I have a point. Fandom has been a lot harder and less fun for me lately, because of enshittification and capitalism and social media and my mental health and the hours that I work these days and the rise in streaming and the general underwhelmingness of a sequel which failed to revitalize a fandom I had really been enjoying writing for; maybe I just needed to talk my way through all this to remember that harder and less fun is not impossible and joyless. But it is still harder and less fun, and I wanted to remember that, too. I like the grace that this post has with both readers and writers. I think that's a good place to start.

feedback and fic in fandom (3 f's of our own)

This conversation about feedback on fic says everything I’ve been wanting to say better than I could say it. But I’ll go ahead and try anyway.

Over the last five years or so there have been some great discussions around the rise of commodification of fanworks and decline of fandom community. This commodification looks a bit like enshittification of the internet: a cool site exists; its popularity makes someone realize they can get money from it; it has more and more ads; the site adds features to drive engagement, including The Algorithm; the things that made the site cool start to fall away. The site exists now as a vehicle purely to get clicks, and the people on it are on it solely to get clicks—to make money, to be successful, for some kind of social cachet.

AO3 doesn’t have advertisements. It’s not making money. But what is happening to fandom is proof of concept that enshittification changes the way we as humans engage. A cool website in 2004 was often a community space where you could meet people, have conversations, find cool things, and make cool things. A cool website in 2024 is either a content farm that will continually feed you enough content to hold your attention, or a social media site where your participation will come with stats to show you whether you are holding the attention of others.

AO3 wasn’t built to be a community space. It doesn’t have great functions for meeting people and having conversations. The idea was that, because fandom community spaces already existed, AO3 would serve the part of that community where you can find the cool things and store the cool things you made. It was meant to be a library in a city, not the whole city itself.

But it was also never meant to be a website in 2024, a content farm constantly generating content solely for your clicks and eyeballs and ad revenue, or a social media site where the content creators themselves vie for your clicks and eyeballs.

The most common talking point when people discuss the enshittification of fandom is the folks out there who are treating AO3 as that first kind of enshittified website: the content farm. This discussion is about how people treat fanfic as a product for consumption.

The post that kicked off the discussion on @sitp-recs’s blog was about someone who wasn’t getting very many kudos or comments on their fic, and was feeling pretty demoralized about it, then joined a discord server and found an entire channel dedicated to people loving their fic. But those on that server had never come to share that love with the author, which the author found really discouraging.

There are more and more stories like this. Someone on tiktok pulls a quote from a fic on AO3 and makes a 10-second video with them staring at a wall, the quote pasted at the bottom, music playing over it. It has 100,000 hearts, and 100 comments with people gushing over the fic, which has 80 kudos on AO3. Overall, people notice more and more hits on their fics, but fewer and fewer comments or even kudos. Fewer and fewer people seem to feel the need to interact with the author, instead treating the fic like a product to be used and discarded—which the enshittified internet (a stunning feature of late-stage capitalism!) encourages. The fandom community is dying, these stories conclude.

I agree. 100%. Both of the stories above have happened to me—viral tiktoks about my fic, secret discord channels to follow and discuss my fic—and let me tell you, it fucking sucks.

But from these observations about fandom enshittification, the discussion continues in a very odd direction. The solution to the death of fandom community is our favorite enshittification buzzword: engagement. We should engage the authors. They’re producing these products for free. We consume them at no cost. We must demonstrate our gratitude by paying them back.

It’s as though the capitalist consumption that the enshittified web encourages is so ingrained within us that we must think in terms of payment, in terms of exchange, transaction. Or as though, by forgoing payment, authors are some kind of martyrs defying capitalism, and the only way to honor their great sacrifice is comments and kudos.

Indeed, the discourse around this sometimes does veer away from capitalist rhetoric into something that smells almost religious in desperation. Authors are gods who bestow us mere mortals with the fruits of their labor benevolently, through love; the least we can do is worship them. Meanwhile the authors adopt the groveling sentiment of starving artists: I produce great art; I only humbly ask that you feed me in return.

These kinds of entreaties make my skin crawl for a number of reasons. I’m not a god. I’m not writing because I love you. I don’t expect your worship or even your praise.

I think the thing that disturbs me the most about it is that it suggests that authors (or, if the OP is feeling generous fan work creators) are the most important people in fandom. I’ve even seen posts stating that without creators, fandom wouldn’t exist—as though readers aren’t just as important. As though conversations where people discuss characterizations and plot points and randomly spin out interpretations and ideas and thoughts related to canon are meaningless. I’ve even seen people scramble to include folks having these discussions as “creators,” as though realizing that these people are necessary and integral to fandom communities but unable to drop the idea that the producers are the ones who are important. As though that person who just lurks can never count.

Is this what community is? When you join the queer community, are you expected to produce a product of your queerness? If not, must you actively participate and give back to the queer community in order to be considered a part of it? Or is it enough that you are queer, that you exist as a queer person and want to be around others who are queer, you want to be a part of something? What is community, anyway?

The problem with people raising the authors above everyone else in the community and demanding that tribute be paid is that they are decrying the “content farm” style of 2024 website out of one side of their mouth, but out of the other side are instead demanding that AO3 become a 2024-style social media website. Authors are influencers. “Engagement” and clicks are the things that really matter. They are in fact suggesting that the way to solve the commodification of fanfic is by “paying authors back” with stats.

Before anyone comes at me with the idea that comments aren’t just “stats,” I will clarify what I mean. There are literally hundreds of posts on tumblr alone claiming that any comment “helps” the author. Someone replies that they are shy to comment. Someone else replies that incoherent keyboard smashes, a single emoji, or the comment “kudos” are all that is required to satisfy the author, all that is required as tribute—all that is required as payment to keep this economy healthy.

I’m not condemning the comments that are keyboard smashes or emojis or a single kind word. I receive them. They make me happy. If anyone wants to leave such a comment on my fics, I’m really grateful for it. But this is not community-building. This is a transaction. In @yiiiiiiiikes25’s excellent response in the post linked at the beginning, they point out that “you have a cool hat” is something that is “perfectly nice” to hear from someone—and it is! We all want to be told we have a cool hat! But as they go on to say, what builds community is interactions that are deep and specific, interactions that are rich in quality, not in quantity. A kudos or a comment that says only ❤️are lovely things to receive, but they don’t build community.

My reaction, when I see people begging for kudos and comments as the only means by which to keep fandom community alive, is very close to @eleadore's. I want to say, “No. Readers do not need to comment or kudos. Believe not these hucksters who claim to know the appropriate method of fandom participation. Participate as you feel able, or not at all; nothing is required of you.”

I’ve been told before (several times) that I’m not qualified to participate in such discussions because I am an established author who has some fics with very high stats. It doesn’t matter that I have also been a new writer with almost no one reading my fics. It doesn’t matter that I still write in new fandoms where no one in that fandom knows me. It doesn’t matter that I, like any human being, still care about receiving recognition and attention and praise.

And maybe that’s correct. I personally don’t think that billionaires have a place in deciding the direction of the economy, and--if we're really going to consider fandom an economy--in fandom terms, if I’m not a billionaire, or even a millionaire, I’m definitely in the infamous “one percent.” So, just as no one wants to hear Elon Musk say “money isn’t everything,” maybe it’s not my place to say “kudos isn’t required, actually.”

That said, I’m not the only one who has a problem with the stats-based discourse around fandom community. However, the main counter-response to this discussion I see goes something like this: you shouldn’t be writing fic for validation. If you’re writing for attention, you’re doing it for the wrong reason. Authors should write fic because they love it without any expectation of return.

This is, in my opinion, missing the point of what is meant by fandom community.

I wrote fanfic before I knew that fanfic, as a concept, existed. I read books; I wanted them to be different; I wrote little stories for myself with new endings, with self-inserts, with cross-overs, with alternate universes. I did it for myself in the 90s. It never occurred to me that anyone else would do this, much less that people would share.

As @faiell points out—creating and sharing are two different things. I created fics for myself, but I decided to share them in the early 2000s because other people might like them, too. And of course, I wanted to hear whether other people liked them. How could I not? I might decorate my home just for me and not for anyone else’s preferences, but when people come over and say my house is nice, how can I not enjoy that? And if a lot of people think my house is nice, which encourages me to post pictures of it online, isn’t it understandable I might do so with the hope that more people will say my house is nice? And, honestly, if no one is appreciating my pictures, I probably won’t continue to go through the trouble of taking them and posting them. I’ll just enjoy my house that I decorated without sharing, the end.

When I found out there were whole fannish communities where people discussed canon and tossed ideas around about it, made theories and prompts and insights into the characters, fics they had written and recs for other fics and analyses of fics and art based on fics and fics based on art—I wanted to be a part of that, too. Now, sometimes, I write fic not out of an internal need to do so but out of a desire to participate in that community.

The idea that we write fic only for the love of it, then post it only because we possess it, is a process entirely centered on the self. It’s fandom in a vacuum. The idea that we share this thing, that we feel pleasure if someone likes it but feel nothing at all if no one says anything about it, that it’s completely okay to be ignored and unseen—that’s not what a community is either. That’s some weird sort of self-aggrandizement through self-effacement—because yes, there is often a weird kind of virtue-signaling in this kind of discourse.

I say this as someone who has virtue-signaled in that way: “some people write for stats, but I write for myself.” It’s bullshit. Sure, I write for myself, but why post it on the internet? Honestly, said virtue has a whiff of the capitalist machine, which would like you to produce for the sake of production, work for the sake of work. The noblest among us expect no recompense for that which they give!

The reason that I’m bringing this back around to capitalism is that capitalism actively works to dismantle community. The reason that folks are out here pleading for “engagement” in order to “pay back” authors for the products they give us “for free” is because people no longer even have the language to discuss how to participate in meaningful community. And frankly, how to build back fandom community, in the face of enshittification, is getting harder and harder to see.

But I do think that if we value fanfic and the fanfic community, it’s really, really not constructive to judge whether someone’s reasons for writing fanfic are valid. It’s also weird to me that it would be considered wrong that someone’s reason for sharing fanfic is because they would like to receive some recognition for it, when in fact that seems to be the most natural reason in the world for sharing something so private and vulnerable with the world.

Let’s go back to that idea of how hurtful it is to find out your fanfic is trending on tiktok without anyone from tiktok saying anything to you about your fic, or how it can be painful to find out there’s a secret discord channel dedicated to your fic. The people who respond to that with, “Ah, but you shouldn’t be writing to get attention!” are missing the point. The fic did get attention. It got lots. Attention obviously wasn't why the writer was writing--they were writing to participate, and they didn't get to. At all.

However, if your conclusion is that the author was upset because these particular stats were not accruing under this author’s profile, thereby preventing them from achieving the vaunted status of BNF and influencer—I don’t know, maybe you’re right. But I don’t think that’s why I, personally, have been hurt by these things, and I doubt it’s what hurt the people in these posts either. They’re hurt because they want to participate, and they have been systematically excluded by the very people they thought were part of the community they thought they could participate in.

Sure, if those folks from tiktok and the discord server all came and showered the author with kudos and comments that said “kudos,” the author might have felt satisfied enough with the quantity of this recognition that they would continue writing. But in the end, this still does nothing to address the problem of fandom community, in which the deep, meaningful recognition, interactions, and relationships in fandom are getting harder and harder to have and to build, as a result of how people now expect to engage in online spaces.

So, how to address the problem of fandom community? You probably read this long, long post hoping that I had an answer, and for that I must apologize. I don’t have solutions. My intent was to be descriptive, rather than prescriptive. I wished to outline the problems that I’m seeing in what was hopefully a slightly new or at least thought-provoking way, rather than offer solutions.

But, now that I’m talking about being prescriptive, maybe I can offer one suggestion, which is—maybe the solution to this isn’t about prescribing behavior. I do understand the irony in writing a prescription saying we shouldn’t prescribe people, but I’m going to write it anyway:

Maybe we shouldn’t be telling anyone the appropriate reasons for writing fanfic or for sharing it. Maybe we shouldn’t be telling readers they need to kudos or need to comment. If we’re going to go pointing fingers, we should be pointing at the institutions of capitalism that have made the internet what it is today—but I don’t think that’s going to solve the problem either.

But I do think that describing this problem, understanding what it actually is, not blaming readers for it and not blaming authors for it—I do think that helps. The discussion I linked at the beginning of this post is what I think of as the fandom I miss, the fandom that's now harder and harder to access, the fandom that is dying. That fandom was a social space where people had opinions and disagreed and went back and forth and gazed at their navels and then talked about Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

In the words of @yiiiiiiiikes25, it was a fuckin’ discussion about hats. And we’re hungry for it.

#fandom #writing #long post

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akajustmerry · 3 years ago

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something I've observed of late, particularly on tiktok, is people's inability to differentiate between plagiarism, influence, reference and homage. for instance I saw a tiktok with a LOT of views where the user was calling out new pop-punk artists like mm@t, machine gun kelly and olivia rodrigo for using similar chord progressions/riffs to all time low, paramore, blink 182 as if a) the aforementioned artists haven't directly cited these bands as influences or b) directly collaborated with these artists to create new work. another example, a criticism I saw repeatedly of Black Widow (2021) was that the opening sequence "failed to replicate The Americans" as if The Americans is the only other piece of media dealing with the drama of Russian sleeper agents in the US and so any media dealing with that must be judged against it. I even saw a tweet accusing Mr Robot as a series of plagiarising Fight Club as if Sam Esmail didn't say over and over again it was a huge influence on his writing. referencing is a technique writers use, homage is a technique writers use, and nine times out of 10 creative ppl acknowledge the influence of works that impacted and inspired them. just because you recognise the influence/reference and don't like seeing it in a new work that doesn't automatically mean it's plagiarism. stop trying to moralise your dislike of new media where there's no moral snafu to be found. just own that shit with ur whole chest.

#like obviously plagiarism does happen but still the difference exists #okay to reblog

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corpsentry · 4 years ago

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january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

#my stuff

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sendmyresignation · 4 years ago

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In Defense of Teenagers:

Ok so. There seems to be a general consensus that Teenagers doesn’t fit on the black parade or that it ruins the trajectory of the album or that the song order of bp needs to be changed to fit the b-sides and drop Teenagers, or it should have just been a single- basically any option other than its inclusion between Sleep and Disenchanted would have been better. now, i’m not here to tell anyone that they’re wrong- i just want to offer an alternative perspective because i truly believe Teenagers is right where it belongs and that its inclusion on that album is, in my opinion, completely necessary to the album’s narrative arc. I want to focus on the way Teenagers builds into the foundation of the Concept Record, the way it bridges the gap between Sleep and Disenchanted so as not to delegitimize Disenchanted’s impact, and the fact that no other available material fits into the struggle the Patient endures at the end of the narrative (sorry this got LONG here’s a read more)

So, before we get into the meat of Teenager’s narrative significance, i wanted to briefly mention the way it makes Black Parade a more cohesive whole in relation to the material it is mimicking. Like Black Parade as an album is structured very differently from Pink Floyd’s The Wall- but it takes a lot of the same beats and recontextualizes them for a new purpose. Both records use war and relationship troubles and school and drugs to create an atmosphere that leads to disillusionment. In The Wall, this is quite literally the protagonist, Pink, building up “bricks in the wall” that isolates him from the rest of society and lead to a downward spiral into cynicism and hate. But Black Parade uses the same tools that The Wall does to say something different- things, specifically the actions you've made or the trauma you've endured, haunts you and makes your life seem insignificant in the face of what happens to you and those regrets are what causes the Patient to fall into a cycle of damnation and cynicism. This is representative of the Patient's descent through the afterlife- each new "layer" of the Patient's exploration is equivalent to a brick in The Wall's metaphor. Additionally, in this new context, this song in particular takes The Wall’s discussions of adolescence and the vice-grip control older generations attempt to force on teens and the disillusionment with the future and retells it from a new perspective- both literally in the fact the song is now more reflective of the 2000s post-9/11 and post-columbine culture, but its also literally from the perspective of the Patient as an adult. Teenagers, as a result, becomes a necessary piece of that puzzle- it is the refraction of Another Brick in the Wall repurposed to mean something new entirely- it’s no longer about kids being forced into complacency by a cruel education system from their own perspective (the children’s choir allows them to speak for themselves) but about the ways in which adults see those kids and why they decide to enact actions similar to those within The Wall. I mean even the imagery used in the song’s music video is purposely almost plagiarizing The Wall- it feeds into a separate analysis of the video and song outside the narrative as well- which i don’t have time right now to get into, its just very interesting that the band is bodily removed from their instruments at the end of the video and the teenagers in the audience have rendered them incapacitated (“they’re looking for a rockstar to kill” anyone?) it's the metaphorical tearing down of the wall from a completely different perspective. Anyway, the work Teenagers does for the narrative is it fits the album into the Concept Record Cinematic Universe- it is a piece that evokes the material it is influenced by to build off of the old to create the new- without it, the connections to The Wall would still be there, sure, but it wouldn’t be as complete- you cannot recontextualize the album without the foundation of Teenagers.

Teenagers is also, at its core, a subtle subversion of genre- using the blueprint of a specific kind of song to center the song within the timeline/narrative. In this case, the same way I Don’t Love You mimics and exaggerates the emotive and plaintive 80s rock ballad, Teenagers twists the classic rock of a bygone era to specifically call back on the stadium rock anthem. Black Parade, on the whole, does this quite frequently- most of its songs take pre-existing genre cues and subverts them in ways that play off of the expected tapestry of a concept record to create individual sounding songs that seamlessly transition into one another yet remain entirely separate. It maintains their presence as scenes in a larger tapestry- specifically the fabric of the Black Parade being a morality play. This serves two purposes, it allows for this exaggeration of genre to become a motif within the work (see mama, cancer, house of wolves, i don’t love you, wttbp -> they all play with a different, varied song type/structure that is distinct from each other) and it plays off of existing genre-stereotypes in ways that contribute to the songs overall function. I Don’t Love You, for example, undermines the fundamental purposes of sappy power ballads- to express one of the two dualities of love songs: the cheesy unconditional “i will love you forever” types or the plaintive, melancholic end-of-relationship song by instead focusing on the complexity of a not-quite-finished relationship. The ballad then shifts from an expression of love to one of human loss- and the loss is less about the individual speaking, but moreso about what the other character has become - it’s a mourning not for the relationship, but for the person themselves, who they used to be in a way. It shifts from the one-dimensional view of what a ballad can achieve and instead infuses the anger, the resignation, the drama, the transformation- it humanizes a very stock genre full of platitudes and uses our expectations to create something more interesting. Similarly, Teenagers takes a tired genre and utilizes the working mechanisms of its typical song structure to subvert and repurpose those into commentary- its literally a stadium rock song that devolves into a chant. Looking at the loud drumbeat that resonates in your chest, the all together now as a command that lures the listener into singing along, the addition of more chorus vocals at the end like a crowd is shouting along, the screaming and the solo on after another like the song is falling apart a little bit, all of these elements build into a song literally meant to be infectious and replicated by the audience. Herein lies one of the songs many interpretations- humans can be easily influenced by the media they consume, the perspectives they are fed. What happens when the view that we have of adolescence is cloaked in mistrust and violence? This aspect of the song is less about the band reconciling teenagers being moved to committing acts of violence and more in analyzing how an audience can be persuaded into believing the erroneous view of teens as fundamentally destructive- are you not repeating the chorus? do teenagers not “scare the shit out of you”? Obviously the band doesn’t want you to believe this but it does what you to think about why this perspective is so common. It's a cultural subliminal message that is present in songs and tv and books that we simply do not question- it is a chant we cannot help but join in on. Teenagers is a replication of that process, but is clearly just subversive enough (both as a piece of genre and just as a song in general terms) that the listener knows its commentary and not itself propagating that viewpoint. Every song on Black Parade does this kind of “genre-bending” to make a point in some way or another, so it's a significant reason Teenagers fits into the albums cohesion.

But,Teenagers isn’t just important to the album in its sound- it lyrically parallels Disenchanted in a way that effectively moves on from Sleep without losing the album’s emotional momentum. Sleep, conceptually and lyrically, is a very heavy track- its influence from the Dune soundtrack’s Final Dream turn a cinematic, swelling piece of instrumentation into an oppressive blanket of noise that bears down on the listener and the lyrics are referential to the patient believing themselves to be irredeemable and monstrous. It's also inspired directly from Gerard’s vivid and violent night terrors during his stay at the paramour- including a recording of Gerard’s recollection of those dreams, that mentions being choked, seeing loved ones die, burning alive, etc. To transition directly from such a dark, personal subject into a reflective acoustic number about the narrator’s adolescence would be tonally inappropriate and almost laughable- it would stop the progression in its tracks, while also doing a disservice to Disenchanted. Having a break is necessary! And it's even more appropriate for that break to be a song about teenagers considering Disenchanted is so nostalgic. Additionally, Teenagers brings up a really interesting narrative thread about the Patient becoming disenchanted with the youth that then directly transitions into a song about him losing faith in his values and sense of self- they are directly correlated conceptually. Looking deeper, Disenchanted is a punk song. sort of. more specifically, it is the foundation of a punk song that becomes a ballad through narrative framing- it takes punk cliches (running from the cops, the crowds, the imagery of guillotining traitorous rich celebrities) and turns them wistful and sad because the Patient is looking back at something they no longer understand or identify with, it allows the narrative to illustrate how the Patient feels like their life was worthless and didn’t amount to much and they’re just another stupid punk kid who grew up and didn’t achieve anything. and you can’t get to this point from Sleep because it would weaken Disenchanted’s impact, make it seem insignificant and petulant in the face of Sleep’s heavy and grand sorrow. Lyrically, you need Teenagers to bridge the gap between the war metaphors and the visualizations of hell and the all-encompassing nature of cancer in order to redirect the focus to the Patient and limit the scope of the narrative at the end of the album. Teenagers, within the story, then functions as the Patient reflecting on the nature of youth and, in the wake of Mama’s “we all go to hell” rhetoric, comes to the conclusion that teenagers are wholly violent, easily manipulated, and unsympathetic. It's another step in the Patient removing his own agency and viewing his life as predestined at the same time it allows the “plot” to focus back on the more nostalgic and mundane aspects of the patient’s life. Doing so makes Famous Last Words so much more significant because it forces the Patient to reconcile with his past before he can move forward (whether that's living or dying its still applicable). so, Teenagers is very important to the overall “plot” of Black Parade- it is fundamentally necessary for the pieces to fit together.

Another larger aspect of Teenagers' importance is that it introduces the fate versus free will internal debate central to the ending fourth of the record. The song lays the foundation for this thematic idea by being about the fated violence of the youth and how they cannot help but to respond to their world with anger and cruelty. This realization about adolescence by the Patient leads to him perceiving his own youth as destructive and worthless and in following the themes of guilt/regret and damnation it's this violence that began his path to hell or his current state of suffering. In that vein, Teenagers leads into the idea that your life is predetermined or that there is a destiny that we all have (in the Patient’s case its the absence of a future, or “a lifelong wait for a hospital stay”) and no matter what, you cannot fight that. While Mama gives a blanket statement about how "we all go to hell", Disenchanted centers the Patient's specific destiny by saying his whole life has led up to his illness and, looking further, there is the implication that life before that was retrospectively pointless. So, as previously mentioned, Disenchanted begins, structurally and lyrically, as a punk song- this sort of expression of youthful existence that, in any other song or under another faster instrumentation, would fit on some basement demo from 1986. But it doesn't stay that way, instead it actively subverts the genre it's cliches are lifted from- thinking specifically about “we ran from the cops” and the “roar of the crowd” that is juxtaposed with the change in structure or theme. Namely, punk songs (speaking generally here) aren’t wistful because there isn't really a sense of legacy in punk music. There's history yes, but most songs are about the immediacy of emotion, not existential questioning. The retrospective nature and the shift into a ballad structure are elements reflective of a change in the main character brought on by the disillusionment present in teenagers from a punk kid to a dying young man looking back on the banality of youth and the hypocrisy, the trauma and the lack of agency. It's so much easier to think that nothing matters and the perspective makes it so much easier to give up.

This build from Teenagers into Disenchanted regarding the Patient's fate allows Famous Last Words to become an even stronger end because it's in direct opposition to that perspective. Famous Last Words is a song that screams fuck fate and fuck the past- the only thing that matters is moving forward. The image of the Patient keeping on whether he’s walking into the afterlife or continuing to stay alive as long as possible becomes something difficult, something he had to fight to achieve - he had to struggle to find a new understanding. That he can't be "afraid to keep living" or "going home" and that these are concrete actions, a use of free will. And that free will is very specifically defiant. Regardless of how you view the Patient's end, he makes the conscious decision to accept the present and move forward. We are not fated to die alone, nor is life worthless. Black Parade proves that the opposite is true, that we must grow to accept the value of life, and it's so much stronger having the Patient actively reject nihilism and apathy. Ultimately, Teenagers introduces the main thread of the final songs and without it, those songs would be narrative incomplete.

So, Teenagers has a valued place on the album sonically and within the narrative whole, that much is clear. But another reason that the album order of Sleep, Teenagers and Disenchanted is important is that none of the other material written for the album comes close to filling its place. In this case, I am going to be specifically talking about the b-sides since the demos are incomplete and we have no idea what the final version would have sounded like (but I would contend they don’t fit either). Beginning with the easiest song to discard from the narrative- My Way Home Is Through You has its moments in the lyrics but it's completely out of place musically- plus the tone is a little too hopeful for this point in the album which does not gel with Disenchanted’s hopelessness. It's also incongruent with the album since Disenchanted is effective as the only “punk” song on a record that plays with and explores genre and having this come before it would ruin the previously mentioned motif of each of the songs being individual and unique in form. Also, it really adds nothing to the fate vs free will theme- meaning its placement would weaken the disenchanted/flw combo ending. Moving forward, Kill All Your Friends seems to fit, considering its cynicism and nostalgia, but the bridge (“you’ll never get me alive, you’ll never take me alive, do what it takes to survive and I'm still here") doesn’t fit the Patient’s slow decent into apathy at all and contradicts Disenchanted’s loss of faith in the idea of living- it's too hopeful and centers survival and resilience in a way that makes it an ineffective substitute for Teenagers as a bridge song. And finally, Heaven Help Us is too religiously centered- it would refocus the fate vs free will discussion in the context of god/angels when that isn’t a theme in the album up to this point (hell is the grounded point of the album- the protagonist has already accepted their fate by Mama- having a reconciliation with a lack of faith or the absence of God seems completely out of left field when its just not an established part of the narrative) Black Parade is actually one of the mcr albums with the least references to god/angels in the heavenly religious sense- more centered around the human struggle against determinism: the usage of damnation is Catholic inspired but divorced from the division of hell vs heaven and is instead about guilt and worthiness and agency. The presence of angels or god or any divinity would simply weaken the narrative by expanding the album's focus outside its own limitations. Also, the Patient isn't ever a martyred figure, if anything he is purposely pathetic. Including any comparison of the Patient to Christ ("give you all the nails you need") or a saint unravels the key feature of the Patient's character: that he is insignificant. His insignificance and his struggles with his past actions make him a character who must find the strength to live through the guilt and pain to prove that everyone is worthy of life. The overarching purpose of Black Parade is emphasizing that no matter what we've done and how dirty we feel, we can move forward and either accept our afterlife or we can find value in being alive. Because of this contradiction, Heaven Help Us destroys the central theme of the entire album if it is included. With all of this in mind, it seems to me that the b-sides are their own nebulous thing- they don’t tonally fit on Black Parade (though I do think they fit together and are interconnected thematically) but any of them would break the flow since they seem angrier and gritter in a way that is noticeably absent and would be at odds with from a lot of Parade’s resignation. They also just do not complete the narrative, they are simple not as good as Teenagers at bringing all the pieces together.

If I still haven’t convinced you, a bonus reason Teenagers is a valuable memeber of the Black Parade tracklist, Ray was the only one who believed in the song- he called it genius (x) so listen to mr chemical romance himself telling you the song is Good and Important :)

anyway now you should, at the very least respect teenagers based on a couple thematic ideas expressed here, if not also understand why it’s imperative to black parade as an album, as well as the narrative itself. <3

#here she is. my teenagers manifesto. months in the making :')#this is the equivalent of getting on my biggest soapbox and screaming for hours please enjoy <33 #my posts #mcr assigned reading #my chemical romance #mcr #black parade

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bao3bei4 · 4 years ago

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kpop music videos that gave their fans sexual brainworms

OR accidental fetish pop and its fringe fanbase: meditations on gendered desire

large warning here: i am someone who has been into kpop for the past 10 years. however, i have always been an extremely casual fan. i do write fic, but not rpf. if any of that makes you not want to hear me talk about kpop rpf (or you don’t want to hear about it in general), please keep moving.

anyway, obviously pop is corporate, soulless, and manufactured. but sometimes some truly bizarre shit gets past the committees and destroys a generation. these are their stories.

the video that started this is all is got7’s just right, released july 10th, 2015.

yes that’s all 7 members of got7 (one is out of frame) shrunken down for your viewing pleasure. they live in your room and tell you you’re just right.

this sheer fetish power of this video is nerfed only by how utterly sexless it is.

they’re styled like and dance like this. it’s a totally unironic sendup of the seminal work that preceded it by four years, “what makes you beautiful” by the white kpop group “one direction.” the chaste energy of the whole thing makes you legitimately wonder if the good people at jyp have just never heard of microphilia. (during a dramatic reading of this piece, here a friend interjected seriously, “i think it’s korean culture not to talk about things like this, fetishes in the workplace.”)

it’s for the best, honestly, though because the actress in the music video is lee ja in, who was 11 when the video was shot. considering that the members themselves ranged in age from 18-23 at the time, i think it’s actually very impressive that we only have to cancel one.

you receive absolutely no prizes for guessing that it’s jackson wang we’re sending to social justice prison. why’d he do this? no one asked.

at any rate, got7 fans, or “gans” (they actually call themselves igot7s which is too twee for me), have much to think about here: all 7 very small members of got7 sneaking into their room, possibly weird age play, and jackson wang eating a very large cake.

let’s see what they actually did.

twitter was actually very tame. the most charged thing i found was (unsurprisingly) from a bts fan (“ban”). i don’t actually know what it means, but i think it means something.

so, of course, i turned to the internet’s last bastion of free speech, where you can say whatever the fuck you want and receive cheers, or as the kids say, “kudos.” that is, i read fanfiction.

for those of you who don’t know your herstory, i started my journey at Asianfanfics.com, where, at the time of writing, there were 12,067 got7 stories. i want to start this by saying that i think feminism won, because someone was paying real human dollars to advertise their irene/wendy fanfiction on a banner ad, which is quite possibly a win for women for everywhere.

anyway, Asianfanfics.com’s search engine sucks ass (i kept on finding stories about different combinations of bts members worrying about their weight and being reassured by another member that were entitled “just right”), so i decided to look through all got7 stories written between july 2015 and december 2015.

but, alas, not a single got7 microphilia fic to be found.

also, some genre commentary while i’m here: i think the stories i respect the most are the “[y/n] is a ordinary girl who’s assigned to be got7’s manager! can she make them into superstars? as sparks begin to fly, can she keep it professional?” like fuck yeah that sounds like a kickass dating sim. it almost definitely already is one. i salute all the teens around the world for buying into the fantasy of dating a boy band member that they themselves sell you.

however, i don’t think i respect the “[member a] and [member b] are mafia/jocks and nerds/college students/high schoolers” concepts. in my opinion, the whole fantasy of boy band member is their personas, their hidden real personalities, their celebrity, and the show business setting. find a different intellectual property if you wanna write about school. i even respect the “yugyeom drank girl juice [not estrogen] and turned into a sexy girl” story more, because at least it knows exactly what it wants, and also because they’re all still boy band members. well, band members. shout out to yugyeom.

so, anyway, i looked elsewhere. at the time of writing, archive of our own only had 11,645 got7 stories, but it does have a better search, so it effectively has more. as an aside, i think it’s so funny, and mildly disorienting at first, that archive of our own separates the “music & bands” section from the “celebrities & real people” section. boy band members aren’t real people.

the first problem i encountered is that only 20 or so stories were written within a year of just right’s release. absolute cringe gans. don’t you care about your boys? there were zero stories tagged “vore” or “microphilia” either. stories containing the word “tiny” that were rated either “explicit” or “mature” were all normal (“normal”) size fetishization rather than, you know, just right.

however, i learned my lesson from twitter. i realized that what had happened was that watching this video had created sleeper agents, just waiting for their activation phrase. that activation phrase? bangtan boys. and yeah, lo and behold, there was one! unfortunately (fortunately?) it had nothing to do with got7, let alone just right, so i’m not going to talk about it.

basically what i learned is that this video may have actually been very normal, and my brain has just been destroyed by being too online at a young age.

however, there are plenty more videos in this genre. i present to you exo wolf, a banger from may 30th, 2013. i say banger, because in a comedic inversion, it’s actually fucking terrible.

this video is pretty self-explanatory in terms of why it might induce certain responses.

let’s get the formalities out of the way. this video, the member who’s getting cancelled is kai. he has braids in this video :/

also skating on thin ice: xiumin and chen. guys what was up with the whole exo-m thing? like, we’re gonna have a cpop subgroup, but it’s going to be part chinese members and part korean members that we’ll give a chinese name? unsurprisingly, the three exo members who have departed from the group are all chinese. they weren’t able to stand the microaggressions probably. but xiumin and chen remain uncancelled as an official chinese apology for five thousand of years of on-and-off invasions of korea. sorry guys that was kinda fucked up. our bad!

anyway, there are basically three avenues for exo fans to take: 1) humans with wolfish characters (usually wolf pack dynamics, which even wolves themselves don’t fucking use so i think all of you should shut up. the real omega here is your brain), 2) werewolves (duh), and 3) wolves with human characteristics (i.e. standard furry fare).

exo themselves let all these possibilities exist at the same time, superimposing them over each other, which is very woke and egalitarian of them. let’s see what the people decided. awoo.

Asianfanfics dot com had many stories in this vein. i feel very validated that this time i was able to correctly predict a fetish. that said, briefly returning to my earlier comment regarding alternate universes: it’s intense psychic whiplash reading about these vampires and werewolves, and going okay okay luhan is a vampire this that whatever, and then seeing the actual real performance photos the author attaches at the bottom of each chapter. bro i forgot these were actual people.... it breaks immersion so bad... i’m sorry, i just can’t believe that any of these dancing boys are having weird vampire sex with wings or whatever.

archive of our own also had many stories in this vein. and i think there are some important difference between the two sites worth talking about.

first of all, i think the higher engagement rate of archive of our own really enables some of the authors to get super bold. it makes Asianfanfics.com seem a little quaint, actually. like the wordcounts are waaay longer, for one. it’s uncommon for a story hosted on Asianfanfics.com to be more than a few thousand words long (most of them could easily be published in the new yorker), whereas some of these archive of our own people have written full length novels about if the members of exo were werewolves. i guess it’s just intensely demoralizing for the aff.com crew to get, like, three comments per story.

the second big difference is that i’m noticing more common themes between the ao3 crew’s writing. like stan intertextuality, or plagiarism, or whatever, but they seem to be implicitly engaging with each other’s characterizations, storylines, and tropes. i think it is because they probably all follow each other on twitter. (i have been active on twitter for three weeks now so i am an expert on fanfiction twitter.)

anyway, like not that i am a particularly big gan (cannot even list all the members), but these people seem to have reached a very specific consensus on how jackson wang, for instance, would react in a variety of situations that really surprises me? if i were to sit down and write a got7 story, i think the fuckboitude, the douchebaggery is a big part of his charm. not to be nationalist or anything, but for god’s sake, he’s from hong kong. but these people have him as very sensitive, lots of protective instincts. not that i understood what anyone on aff.com was doing with his character either, but they did all seem to be doing different things. “kudos” to that, i guess.

but: exo. wolf. i searched the “wolves” tag. this filtered the list down from 33459 stories to 52 stories. and the “wolves” tag was very different from the aff.com “wolf” tag. for the most part, aff.com liked stories where a member was a wolf (usually shapeshifting), feral boy, lots of y/n, lots of y/n dating a feral boy who is secretly a wolf.

ao3 really, really, really likes alpha/beta/omega stories. sorting by the most popular stories, only five on the first page weren’t a/b/o. and one of them was a cis f!baekhyun story, so i think the intended effect was communicated. anyway, let’s talk about some of the themes.

first of all, i’m disappointed. today’s bonus cancellation is of ao3 “wolves” writers. why the fuck are you drawing so heavily from european wolves?? there are wolves in asia!! you don’t need to keep giving their packs and ranks weird latin names. i will kill you. i hate italy. korea literally has a native wolf. i hate all of you!!! if you want to write caucasian wolves go watch that dumbass cw show!!!! my god.

the second theme (the first one was white supremacy) is that no one wants to be a wolf who fucks. i think that we need a sex positivity movement, or something, for omega rights. like, are all of you doing okay? you’re queering misogyny by inventing new genders to oppress. another level to “no one wants to be a wolf...” is the “who fucks” part. there are so many consent issues. and not even in like, a sexy intentional way? in a “i genuinely do not think this author understands how their writing comes off” way. unfortunately i am sensitive to untagged sexual coercion, and there was a lot of that.

at any rate, the aff.com wolves were at peace with being wolves, very self-actualized. the ao3 wolves know that every minute they spend alive on this bitch of an earth is suffering, and also sex.

the third theme is the evolution of y/n. y/n, who, in a startlingly woke move for aff.com, is almost always korean, is a girl main character stumbling into love, boy bands, and wolves (i think it’s because aff.com is oldschool kpop fandom, so therefore heavily asian itself in userbase). but y/n is not the main character in ao3 stories. she is the straight best friend. in what i think is a hilarious move, ao3 authors invert the gay best friend paradigm to give the gay main character a straight girl as best friend. she usually calls him “a gay,” she has lots of thoughts on boys, and she knows his sexuality better than he does and before he does. (sidebar: if all the men are gay, and all the women are straight...)

there’s a really fun twist to this, though, because the main character is always a self-insert in fanfiction. but where older fanfiction like aff.com was at peace with this and literalize it via y/n shenanigans, modern fic writers who haven’t finished distangling their complicated relationship with wanting to be a man who loves other men instead simply imbue their main character with their essence. a little voodoo doll sehun, with a lock of y/n hair.

this creates a deeply ambivalent relationship with gender in these stories. the main character is usually an omega, but one who resents being an omega. their body and its parts is usually described, if at all, as ostensibly intersex (except more offensively), but in practice, these discourses inscribe a trans body. (nb: i think cis writers approach this in a really fucked up fetishizing way, but i hope by this point we know that that goes without saying) it’s incredibly straightforward to read this, and see the underlying desires and fears in a heady cocktail of unfiltered writing that’s deeply confessional. you know when freud had people say whatever the fuck they wanted and figured they’d eventually free associate into releasing their subconscious into reality? yeah.

okay, and while we’re on the topic, let’s talk f(x) nu abo, released on may 4th, 2010.

this is a blitzy, maximalist, amped up dance hit that even has its own applause and cheers built in. it’s so fucking annoying, and i love it.

this song is on here because the second most popular kpop a/b/o story on ao3 is called “nu abo” except it’s about bts. that’s offensive enough in its own right. write something about f(x) (702 works). when will women win the right to have their own self-lubricating holes.

anyway, even though f(x) is probably innocent in all of this, i’m still cancelling amber liu.

for queerbaiting. who told her to look like ruby rose but hot? and for what? i’m also cancelling her for racism, but that wasn’t in this video.

moving on to a double feature: vixx voodoo doll and vixx chained up, released november 19, 2013 and november 9, 2015 respectively. this is because while voodoo doll is more formative, i think the fans who write fanfiction today got into kpop more recently, so we are casting a wide net.

anyway, voodoo doll is jam packed with weird pseudo-medical imagery, blood, vivisection, bondage, puppet shit, femdom, sharps, piercings, asphyxiation, dollification, stabbing/penetration metaphors, and a really sick and catchy dance. god that looks like the list of tags on the a/b/o wolf stories.

for this song, we’re cancelling you, for being way too into this song when you were 13.

vixx voodoo doll made me goth i guess! insert that pic of the your music saved me sign, except it saved me from getting into emo or pop punk probably.

chained up, comparatively, is much more tame. the only thing of note about it is that there are around 10 completely different chokers and choker looks the members wear in this music video. also they’re singing about being chained up, but that seemed a bit obvious.

we could argue that voodoo doll is gay while chained up is gay (derogatory); that voodoo doll is queer while chained up is gay; that chained up is a sensitive masterpiece of omega4omega sexuality. but we’re not going to.

we’re going to talk about what voodoo doll fanfiction was and was not. first, Aff.com had plenty of it. however, i was extremely disappointed to see that much of it did not hew to the spirit of vixx voodoo doll. my god, the voodoo doll becoming the one preying upon you disgusts me. the fantasy of the voodoo doll is that of absolute power. the idea that the doll itself has agency? instantly breaks the fantasy. i’m even not into voodoo dolls and i’m offended.

i also don’t think it’s part of the voodoo doll fantasy to release the doll. the only story on there that involved Y/N kidnapping vixx members like in the music video was unavailable because the author deactivated their account. come back qxeen what did you see.

i think this got off track, actually, in that i was mostly wondering why these people imprinted differently onto vixx voodoo doll than i did. like i don’t think you’re supposed to actually like straightforwardly absorb the morals and aesthetics of music videos like it’s propaganda. however, it’s more entertaining if you do. i hope ao3 doesn’t let me down.

out of the then 5932 works in the vixx fandom (the least out of every group so far, excluding f(x) because they’re women), 59 of them included the word “voodoo” somewhere. that’s 1%. i legitimately can’t tell if that’s high or not.

after some more cursory reading through the first page of popular results, my big takeaway is that people watched that video and wanted to be tortured and enslaved? but not, like, in a sexy way where the torturing is the point, the way where the point is to suffer bravely and beautifully, to endure the world’s harms like jesus on the cross, and then to fall into the arms of a beautiful boy who may or may not be the one hurting you in the first place.

there’s a certain predictability to these fantasies. like it’s not even masochism, which would be fun at least, it’s literally just like the desire to be beautiful, even as you suffer. and i do find that a little boring. (but, i mean, you can’t help being a woman!)

sidebar: on chained up. what’s interesting about chained up, is that most of the then 38 “chained up” works (likely because the video has no storyline) are about the members fucking during chained up promotions. no one’s ever actually chained up, but whatever. it’s fine. it’s fine!

anyway, here, more than ever, the nature of desire is stripped bare. i’ve written before [elsewhere in the unreleased tshirt cinematic universe] on how kpop boys are, through fandom, re-formed as white, or more strongly, i guess, blank slates. it’s really interesting to me how so much of this dynamic of projection is enabled by the fact that they’re asian men. they’re infantilized, feminized vessels; they’re seductive, but childlike, oblivious to their own charms, so nonthreatening; they have uncontrollable desires for sex, they’re scared of sex. and above all else, white women submit themselves to them, insert themselves into them. basically kpop fans tend to rework old school yellow peril and emasculation fantasies to reenact their own desires, often white, often cishet on them.

what i am saying is that there’s another thesis about forced feminization and its racialized subtext in here. obviously gender is a racialized construct to begin with, but like it’s fascinating to argue that when white women remake asian men according to their own desires, that is, into themselves, they (hopefully) unintentionally echo these old fears about the sexual order.

it illuminates, it seems, the underlying dynamic in the denigration of asian men, which is of course the fear of miscegenation. now, my breathtaking ability to make everything about me aside, miscegenation is interesting because it presents a racial synthesis, beginning to collapse and trouble the artificial designations of purity. so we make asian men into white women, and end up with an unsettling hybrid. i’m sure this has deep implications for me personally.

but i think we already knew that quite a few of these people had yellow fever, so let’s talk about the gender dialectic at play. basically, the above dynamic, of making men into women (whether literally, in body; or subjectively, in mind; or even relationally, as they are objectified into passive vessels for your desire) coexists with the ostensibly converse dynamic, in which the straight women desires to be a gay man. these aren’t necessarily in conflict: it could easily be that these are different writers writing different stories, that both are ways of expressing discontent with existing in a raced, gendered body, or even that the end product of both is the same.

it’s been a while without a picture. all of you now have the legal right to hunt and kill me for making a d&g joke.

anyway, what i want to talk about is how these two fantasies can coexist. that by making a man into yourself, you can speak on your own desire in a passive way. my normal interest is analyzing forced masc fantasies (albeit in chinese opera lol), and they bear little to no resemblance to this kind of fantasy. this kind offers plausible deniability, of course, because wanting things is embarrassing. but also the fantasy isn’t about wanting to be a man, it’s about having no choice but to be a failed one. the gender pessimism running through these stories is palpable. basically andrea long chu wants what wolf fanfiction writers know: everyone is an omega, and everyone hates it.

at any rate, this racialized dynamic is one that i wasn’t sure how to bring up throughout this piece, mainly because there is no definitive way for me to tell the race of any individual writer, beyond just like the clear and present vibes that i receive. but i think it structures a lot of the fantasies contained in this essay. (i felt more comfortable bringing up the gendered dynamic, because it was fairly trivial to find out the current gender of the person writing each story i was reading.)

obviously we should return to the specter haunting this conversation: the very much alive david eng. i think this sort of argument is familiar to readers of racial castration, especially his chapter on m. butterfly. btw sorry for mentioning that play 2 out of 3 posts on this blog. i have problems.

let’s talk about the parallel imagery between the depiction of gallimard’s final speech and the fanfiction i’ve described above. in it, gallimard makes himself into his own dream woman, dressing in yellowface and robes, the costume of puccini’s original madame butterfly. and he laments his lost love:

there is a vision of the orient that i have. of slender women in chong sams and kimonos who die for the love of unworthy foreign devils. who are born and raised to be the perfect women. who take whatever punishment we give them, and bounce back, strengthened by love, unconditionally.

in that, i see the self insert, and i see the sufferer of vixx voodoo fic. the fantasy that gallimard has about asian women is repeated, this time about asian men and a helpless identification with them. and on some level, gallimard’s women do have something very compelling to identify with: they suggest that there’s a way to endure white male violence without sacrifice, and even more potently, to enjoy it on some level.

but onward to the titular racial castration. eng argues that gallimard’s wilful ignorance of song’s true gender is a psychic castration -- song’s masculinity is diminished so that his own can be enhanced within their relationship. this, eng believes, acts out “richard fung’s contention that in western imaginary ‘asian and anus are conflated.’” this process stabilizes the relationship between the asian man and the white woman: they occupy the same place within the sexual dyad.

this is, i think, why some people are addicted to writing from the bottom’s perspective. again -- not implying that irl bottoms don’t exist or that bottoms are psychically castrated lol -- but rather that you can fantasize about this ideal asian man that you can come to embody. in kpop rpf, rather than it being between a white man and an asian man (unless someone’s started writing chad future fic), it’s between two asian men. so this transformation is performed. whiteness is always intruding and so i think eng is helpful here to making it visible again.

this essay isn’t a callout or actual cancellation or anything like that, i do wanna be clear. i guess i just like talking about fantasies, even the embarrassing ones, and where they come from. i think oftentimes in fandom spaces, we write a lot of stories off as idfic, and i think virtually every single one of the stories i referenced to write this fairly uncontroversially fall into that category. but i think calling something an “id” something or the other naturalizes the satisfaction it gives as purely instinctual and unconscious, when i do think there are deeper narratives at play. while i didn’t ever actually reference the base here (sorry), i do think it’s worth talking about how real world power shapes & maintains the superstructure, and thereby our fantasies.

anyway in conclusion, maybe i was the one with sexual brainworms the whole time.

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mikauzoran · 4 years ago

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Marichat/Adrienette: The Rejects Club: Chapter Twenty-Six: Embrace

The Rejects Club: Chapter Twenty-Six: Embrace

(One day, I need to go back and make sure all of these chapters are on here because they definitely aren’t at present. -.-;)

“Does Plagg have unsupervised access to the internet?” Marinette texts Chat as they sit in homeroom, waiting for classes to start for the day.

Adrien blinks down at his screen. “I let him use the computer while I do homework or practice piano or whatever. This sounds ominous. Why do you ask?”

Marinette replies with a link which he forwards to Adrien’s phone before he can open it.

He is not expecting a Princess Noir comic. He’s not expecting to get sucked into a fictionalized version of his life where Marinette—or “Adrienne”, rather—is in love with him and he loves her and things are so obviously going to work out after a few trials and some tribulations.

He only remembers that Marinette is probably waiting for a response after he’s read the first scene—the balcony scene where Chat Noir saves Adrienne from being akumatized after her boyfriend breaks up with her.

He switches back to Chat’s flip phone where a string of texts from Marinette is waiting for him: “Do you think Plagg would do this?” “It’s pretty obvious that the creator was present to hear our actual dialogue.” “I mean, some things have obviously been changed to protect our privacy,” “but sometimes APlaggOnBothYourHouses lifts direct quotations from our conversations.”

“Yep. This looks like Plagg’s drawing style,” Adrien types back.

No wonder Plagg could doodle that chaise sketch of Marinette so quickly. He had had plenty of practice drawing Princess.

“I’ll have him take it down” After Adrien binge-reads the entire thing and saves the files for personal viewing. “and talk to him about acceptable usage of the internet. I’m so sorry, Princess.”

Marinette deliberates for a minute before she answers, “He doesn’t have to take it down.” “I’ve only read bits and pieces,” “but it doesn’t look like there’s anything too objectionable in it.” “You’ll notice that while Princess is an exact representation, Adrienne doesn’t look much like me.” “I’m sure it’s the same for you and Marin.” “Alya is obsessed with this,” “and I’d think my best friend would be the first to accost me” “if there was anything in there that outted me.” “If you don’t mind this being out there, I’m okay with it.”

Internally, Adrien does his victory dance. He will still be giving give his kwami the scolding of a lifetime, but he’ll let the artist continue. Maybe it will give Adrien some idea of what to do. Maybe he can plagiarize some of Marin’s best lines because, just going by the first scene, there are a lot of them in there that Chat has never actually used.

“Okay. I’ll monitor him. If you’d like, you can review the existing content and let me know if there’s anything you want him to cut out,” he offers judiciously.

“That’s okay.” Marinette knows better than to let herself get caught up in a romcom of her life. “I’ve already lived it.” “I don’t need to read it.” “Some ground rules:” “No explicit sex scenes or sex acts.” “Sex can be implied, but not depicted.”

Adrien nearly drops the phone as his brain plummets into the gutter.

“No nudity.” “Drawing me in a bra or swimsuit is fine,” “but I demand my breasts remain covered and my pants stay on.”

Adrien really wishes she would stop giving him ideas when he’s trapped in a classroom and going to have to focus on school in less than ten minutes.

“Don’t give away my true identity.” “That’s it for now.” “I’ll let you know if I come up with anything else.”

“Okay. I’ll let him know,” Adrien replies simply, trying to get himself to breathe regularly and not think about anything Marinette just typed.

“You okay, Mec?” Nino whispers from beside him. “Your face looks like a cherry.”

Adrien puts his phone away and groans softly. “I’ll be fine once I’m distracted. Secret Girlfriend has been unintentionally yanking my chain this morning.”

Nino’s concerned frown intensifies. “What’d she say?”

Adrien shakes his head, hiding his face in his hands. “She didn’t mean it in a suggestive way, but she was talking about…sex involving the two of us.”

Suddenly a thought occurs to Adrien, and he lowers his hands with a smack against the top of the desk, whipping his head around to give Nino a warning glare. “I’m swearing you to secrecy on this, by the way. Tell Alya that I have a secret girlfriend, and…” He lets the threat hang between them, unfinished. “I don’t want this getting back to Marinette. I will be livid, Nino.”

Nino nods, suitably cowed. “My lips are sealed, but…Adrien…are you sleeping with this girl?”

Adrien nearly chokes on air, and his face lights up red like a Chinese lantern once more. “N-No! I’ve…” He lowers his voice. “…never slept with anyone. She’s just…we’re not even together.”

Nino nods slowly. “So you’re not cheating on her by pursuing Marinette?”

Adrien shakes his head emphatically. “I would never cheat. Especially not on Marinette.”

Nino continues to nod. “Well. I’m seriously confused. Shall we drop this?”

Adrien sighs and agrees. “Probably for the best. It’s too complicated to explain.”

“So long as Marinette doesn’t find out and think you’re playing with her,” Nino warns.

Adrien gulps. He could explain his “secret girlfriend” away simply by showing her the texts, but that’s not the way he wants the reveal to go.

He reaches up to run a hand through his hair, but then he remembers the gel.

Roll call is well underway when an announcement comes over the PA system: “Adrien Agreste. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Please report to the principal’s office.”

Adrien looks up from Scene Two of Plagg’s Princess Noir comic and blinks in owl-eyed surprise.

The message repeats, and he can hear Marinette groan behind him.

“I’ve been here less than an hour, and I haven’t even done anything yet today,” Marinette grumbles as Adrien opens the door for her. “Thank you.”

They step into the hall, beginning their trek, and it abruptly hits her.

“Unless Chloé lodged a complaint about me physically assaulting you in the locker room this morning. Shoot.”

“Chloé wouldn’t do that,” Adrien protests. “She knows how I—uh…”

What? “feel about you”?

“Adrien, I know you two are old buddies, but that is exactly the kind of thing that Chloé would do. Getting other people akumatized, in trouble, and/or blamed for something that’s her fault are her specialties, and she kind of hates my guts,” Marinette patiently explains over her shoulder. “This reeks of Chloé.”

“Then why was I summoned?” Adrien wonders.

“To testify against me,” Marinette answers with a nod of certainty. “So, you do realize this is every man for himself, right? I’m totally throwing you under the bus and saying that you started it. Who would believe that you’re the victim here? You’ve got a full head on me and at least fifteen kilos.”

Her tone is light, and he can’t tell if she’s joking. It doesn’t sound like something Marinette would do, though, even if she were cross with him.

“But I did start it,” Adrien replies, confused as to why there’s any doubt surrounding the chain of events.

Marinette stops and turns to arch an eyebrow at him. “I kicked you in the shin and shoved you.”

He shrugs and keeps walking. “I was sexually harassing you. You acted in self-defence.”

“How was any of that sexual harassment?” Marinette scoffs, hurrying to catch up.

“What? You mean the way I kissed your wrist and your hair? Blatantly flirted with you? Called you pet names even after you told me to stop?” Adrien recounts miserably, revisiting all the ways he has messed up.

“Well, I was harassing you too, then,” Marinette argues, determined to take the blame. “I called you Minou and scratched behind your ear and rang your bell.”

“Princess—Sorry. Marinette,” he corrects. “I liked all those things. It’s different if the person you’re doing things to consents. As it stands, you’re only guilty of bruising my fragile feelings.”

“And your shin,” she adds woefully. “Is it starting to bruise? Does it hurt? I’m really sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking.”

“My shin is fine,” he lies. It’s still painfully throbbing. “You didn’t get me that hard. There’s not a mark on me.”

She comes to a halt in front of him. “Prove it,” she challenges. “Lift up your pant leg.”

He complies, lifting the right leg to reveal a spotless shin. “See?”

“I kicked your left shin. What? You thought I wouldn’t notice?” she inquires wryly.

“No, it was definitely the right one.” He sticks to his guns, hoping he can bluff his way out of this.

“I may be slightly ambidextrous with my hands, but I’m definitely right-footed. I kicked your left shin. If there’s nothing there, it won’t do any harm to show me that one also, right?” She corners him.

He hesitates.

“Don’t make me pull up your pant leg myself. I don’t want to assault you any more than I already have today,” Marinette coaxes.

With a sigh, Adrien lifts the other pant leg and observes with her the beginnings of a bruise.

“…That’s from basketball the other day,” he insists, voice level and impassive.

She shakes her head and whispers, “Sorry” once more for good measure. “Adrien, if someone ever hurts you, don’t hide it. Tell someone, and tell them the truth, okay?”

“I would,” he assures, resuming their walk and picking up the pace. He most likely wouldn’t. “but this kind of thing doesn’t really happen anymore.”

She gives a start. “Anymore? Someone’s hurt you before?”

“No,” he answers firmly. “It’s not like that. I’ve never been abused. I just meant…sometimes my mother had one of her meltdowns and slapped me—not hard,” he hurriedly amends. “Not hard enough to leave a mark, and she was always sorry for it afterwards. I was a complete brat anyway. I pushed her until she went over the edge sometimes; it’s not like it was unprovoked…. That’s all that I meant. No one’s hit me since my mother went missing, so…it’s not an issue. Father would never hit me. I heard from my mother that his father used to hit him, so…so my father would never hit me.”

Marinette doesn’t know what to say. It reminds her of Chat, and she never knows what to say to Chat either. She settles on a comforting sigh of, “Oh, Adrien.”

“It’s not like that,” Adrien reiterates softly. “I’ve been modeling since I was two. Someone would have noticed if I had marks on me often. It wasn’t like that.”

Marinette relents, unable to say for sure what it was or was not like without further evidence. “Okay,” she agrees. “But if someone does ever hurt you, that’s not something you hide and forgive and cover up for them, even if you do love them and want to protect them. You need to say something.”

Adrien stops dead as Marinette’s words strike a chord she hadn’t been aiming for, hadn’t even known existed.

“Adrien?” she calls, expression slowly twisting into a deep frown of concern at his sudden pallor and the horror evident on his face.

“Marinette, what would you do if someone you loved was doing something bad?” he wonders quietly.

“Talk to them about it and see if I could get them to stop,” she replies without thinking too hard. “Do they know they’re doing something bad?”

“I don’t know if they see it as bad. I don’t know if they understand the impact of their actions on others,” he mumbles, starting to walk again. “…I don’t know if I can ask him.”

“…Is your father hurting anyone?” she carefully begins to pry.

Adrien considers for a moment, even though he knows the answer is yes—mentally, if not physically. He knows many a Parisian has been scarred by Papillon mentally, even if Ladybug fixes all the physical damage.

“No,” Adrien lies. “He’s not physically harming anyone, no. Just…honestly, it’s not much different than his usual verbal abuse and emotionally traumatizing people,” he reasons.

A thought occurs to him, causing him to stop and catch her by the wrist. “Marinette, never work for my father, okay? I have contacts at other houses; we can get you an interview anywhere else you want, but don’t apply at Gabriel, okay?”

She nods, obviously taken aback by the intensity of his words.

He nods in return, satisfied, and lets go, moving forward once more. “I’ll…try to talk to him.” There has to be some way to get Gabriel to realize the magnitude of what he’s doing.

“But what do I do if he doesn’t stop?” Adrien wonders, terror-stricken at the thought.

“Is this something the police should know about, or something more benign?” Marinette holds her breath.

“Something he should probably be in jail for,” Adrien whispers, trying again and again failing to wrap his mind around the thoughts, “Your father should be in jail”; “Your father is a criminal”; “Your father hurts people”; “You’re not stopping him”; “You’re just as bad”.

“Is it unforgivable of me to keep quiet about something like this? I feel like…maybe I’m just as guilty as he is for letting this go on,” he adds in a small voice, letting her see a tiny piece of his shame.

He doesn’t know how he’s actually going to tell her. “Will you marry me? By the way, your future father-in-law is Papillon. Hope you don’t mind” does not sound like a wise idea.

Marinette hesitates. It takes her the entire length of his speech plus an additional few seconds to gather courage enough to slip her hand into his and squeeze. She doesn’t allow herself to think about how this is her crush she’s touching. She forces herself to remember, “This is your friend, and he’s in pain right now”.

“Don’t let your father’s wrongs weigh on your conscience, Adrien. If he gets caught, cooperate. Until then, talk to him and do your best to get him to stop and make reparations on his own where possible. I don’t know what your father has done, and I don’t need to know, but you are not your father, and what he’s doing is not your fault.”

Adrien sighs deeply, tightening his grip on her hand as if she’s tethering him to sanity. He realizes that his grip is perhaps a bit too hard and forces his hold to relax a bit. “You know, I’m really relieved that you didn’t yell at me,” he whispers.

“Why would I?” she asks, baffled and wondering where this is coming from. Where any of this is coming from.

“I’m a selfish coward. I’ve been dithering over this for a long time; this isn’t recent,” he laughs darkly.

She increases the pressure of her squeeze. “…I don’t think I’d be able to turn my parents in to the police,” she offers.

He shakes his head. “You would find the strength to do the right thing. You’re like Ladybug. You would sacrifice your comfort and happiness for others. You would do the right thing.”

“It’s not just comfort and happiness.” she remarks. “It’s your family.” She knows how important that is to him. She knows some of the personal injustices that Adrien has forgiven his father for over the years out of love and desperation not to let what little remains of his family fracture further.

“Try not to let it weigh on you,” she urges. “Talk to him the next chance you get. He loves you, Adrien. I’ve seen evidence of how much he loves you. If anyone can convince him to stop, it’s you.”

A fragile smile begins to form on Adrien’s lips as he gives in and lets her reassurances wash over him. He knows her answers would probably be different if he came out and said, “My father is Papillon”, but, for now, he lets himself enjoy the simple pleasure of feeling her skin against his, no leather suit between them.

His thumb traces lazy circles on her palm, and he slows their pace, greedy for more time in this moment.

They’re alone in the hall, holding hands as they walk, and he can almost imagine a future where she knows everything and chooses him anyway.

“I love…your friendship.”

He can feel her give a start through their joined hands.

“You’re really amazing, and I’m glad to have you in my life.” He says what he wants to say without really saying what he means. “Thank you, Marinette.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” she manages to reply. It strikes her how not over him she is. His words make her insides melt. “Anytime,” she adds breathily as every swirl of his thumb over her flesh makes her stomach flutter.

She briefly remembers Chat and feels a twinge of guilt, but it doesn’t last long because Adrien turns and smiles at her vaguely reminiscent of the way Chat looks at Ladybug.

“I mean it,” he stresses. “You’re extraordinary, and I’m a blind fool for not realizing the extent of how magnificent you are before.”

He brings their joined hands up to his lips and sends one of Chat’s smiles her way.

She gulps as he lets go and pushes open the door to the principal’s office.

“Ah, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Monsieur Agreste,” Principal Damocles greets in a too civil tone that indicates storm clouds on the horizon. “Come in.”

“Monsieur Damocles, if this is about what happened in the locker room this morning, I can explain,” Adrien leads in while Marinette is still off balance. “It’s all my fault.”

Principal Damocles arches a bushy eyebrow and inquires, “What happened in the locker room this morning?”

Adrien blinks. “Nothing. Why do you ask?” he questions in a perfect counterfeit of confusion, as if he himself were not the one to introduce the topic in the first place.

Principal Damocles gives Adrien an odd look but clears his throat and then presses forward with the speech he had originally intended to give. “I’ve summoned you both to my office this morning because Madame Mendeleiev has complained to me about you two disrupting class yesterday afternoon.”

Marinette and Adrien wince in tandem.

“Passing notes, having side discussions, texting each other,” Damocles enumerates, ticking the offenses off on his fingers.

Marinette frowns. She knows the identity of her texting partner, but whom was Adrien talking to?

“Running out of class faking a medical emergency to play hooky together,” Damocles continues sternly. “I have to say we are quite disappointed in you two, and we cannot allow this to continue. Miss Dupain-Cheng, you are class representative and should be setting the example for your peers.”

Marinette flinches at the accusation, feeling the words heavily upon her shoulders.

“Monsieur Agreste, we’ve come to expect better from you. I’m sure your father will be disappointed as well.”

Adrien bites the inside of his cheek to control the involuntary grimace threatening to materialize.

“What do you two have to say for yourselves?” the principal intones imperiously.

“I’m really sorry, Sir,” Marinette mumbles, scuffing at the floor with her toe, eyes downcast.

Adrien steps forward in front of Marinette, as if to defend her. “I’m sorry, Monsieur Damocles. This is all a misunderstanding, and it’s entirely my fault. You shouldn’t punish Marinette; she’s the victim in this.”

Marinette’s head snaps up, and she looks at him incredulously. “What?”

Damocles frowns, severe eyebrows folding together. “How so, Monsieur Agreste? Please continue.”

Adrien takes another step towards the principal’s desk wearing a contrite and pained expression of acute embarrassment. “Last week,” he begins. “Monday evening, I told Marinette how I felt about her and asked her to go out with me.”

Marinette’s eyes go wide, and she nearly falls over. She finds herself once again wondering what alternate universe she’s temporarily slipped into.

Principal Damocles leans forward ever so slightly in interest and nods for Adrien to keep going.

Adrien grimaces, averting his eyes and rubbing at the back of his neck. He drops his voice into a disheartened mumble. “Only…she said no because there’s already someone else that she likes.” He doesn’t have to feign the hurt undercurrent to his lines. He knows exactly what it’s like to be passed by for someone else courtesy of Ladybug.

Damocles frowns sympathetically.

Tentatively, Adrien peeks up, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself. “Unfortunately, I’m having a hard time taking no for an answer. You know what spoiled rich brats are like, Monsieur Damocles; you’ve been dealing with Chloé for years now.”

The principal nods, a sour, knowing look making its way to his face at the thought.

“And while I try to do a better job than she does,” Adrien explains, “I still have entitlement issues. I struggle with the concept of not being able to have what I want, so I’m afraid that I’ve been driving Marinette up the wall all week, trying to get her to change her mind.”

Adrien is quiet for a moment before he lets out an enormous sigh. “I’m sorry.” He looks back at Marinette and repeats the words, softer and more like a caress. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want you to like me the way that I like you…but I guess hounding you like a fox isn’t going to accomplish that, is it?”

He turns back to Damocles and resumes his narrative. “Yesterday I was being particularly persistent. The reason she ran out of class was because I upset her so much she physically had to get away from me. Please don’t punish her, Monsieur Damocles. I’m the one in the wrong, and I’m really sorry.”

He looks at Marinette once more, and he doesn’t have to fake the regret in his eyes and on his face. “I’m sorry for Monday.”

Her eyes fly wide.

He knows.

Her lips tremble as she opens them to speak, to tell him, no, she is the one who is sorry for Monday. He didn’t do anything wrong. She’s the one who’s wronged him.

The words don’t come. All she can do is shake her head and start to tear up.

She might not know this boy like she thought she did, but, in moments like this, she knows she was right to love him. He may not be the person she put on a pedestal and worshipped for four years, but he is definitely someone she could well and truly love.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, Marinette, and I’m sorry for all the times I made you cry. You’re really important to me, so I hope we can find some way to repair our friendship.” He gives her a small, nervous smile as if unsure if his next step will find solid ground or thin air.

“Oh, Adrien,” she chokes, nodding emphatically. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been such a jerk to you, and then you go and do something like this, and…I don’t know how I’m ever going to apologize enough.”

He shrugs and gives her a patented Adrien Agreste wink. “It’s okay. We’ll settle later. For now, I’m just grateful that you’re talking to me in full and complete sentences.”

Marinette is tempted to smack herself in the face and hide behind her palms. It doesn’t take much tempting before she gives in and does so. “On Saturday, you implied it was cute when I stuttered,” she grumbles from behind her protective shield.

Adrien snickers, letting a little Chat slip into his voice. “Yeah, but it’s sexy when you look me in the eye, shove me, and verbally tear me to pieces. I like that razor-sharp tongue of yours.”

Marinette makes a high-pitched noise of abject distress and is only kept vertical by how rigid her body has become.

Adrien winces. “Sorry. I’m still coming on too strong, aren’t I?” He turns penitently to Principal Damocles. “I’m sorry. You see what she’s been dealing with all week? You can’t punish her. I’m going to try to get my act together and stop harassing her, but if you feel the need to give me detention or have a parent teacher conference with my father’s secretary, I more than deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” Marinette interjects, finally finding her footing. “Monsieur Damocles, this isn’t Adrien’s fault; it’s mine.”

Adrien turns to Marinette so that his back is to Damocles and the principal can’t see his face. He puts a finger over his lips, silently urging her not to throw away the cover story he has constructed for her.

“Marinette, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but you don’t have to lie to protect me,” he gently informs.

“B-But…” Isn’t that what you’re doing for me? “He doesn’t even know why I ran out of class, does he? And he’s still…”

Later, she will site this as the moment she fell in love with Adrien Agreste the second time.

“All right,” Principal Damocles sighs, having seen enough. “You two may go back to class. Monsieur Agreste, consider this your warning. Don’t let this happen again. Miss Dupain-Cheng, if you continue to experience problems with Monsieur Agreste, I expect to be informed.”

“Yes, Monsieur Damocles,” they reply out of sync.

Adrien opens the door for Marinette, and they slip out into the hallway, Marinette collapsing back against the wall with a pronounced sigh.

“I didn’t mean for you to throw yourself under the bus,” she scolds. “Adrien, I was kidding.”

Adrien shrugs offhandedly. “It was a choice between both of us getting in trouble or just me getting in trouble. The correct answer was obvious. Besides, I’d say things worked out pretty well.”

She frowns, slowly taking him in in his black jeans, lime green t-shirt, and black leather jacket. He looks good in Chat’s colors, and she’s forced to admit that she’s still interested, despite her growing feelings for Chat.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you for doing that. It’s more kindness than I’ve earned.”

He rolls his eyes. “You need to stop beating yourself up. I don’t know what you and Chat were talking about yesterday, but it’s none of Monsieur Damocles’s business. I’m okay with him thinking that I was the one texting you who upset you. I don’t care if he thinks I’m a selfish prick, so long as you know the truth.” He gives her a smile fit to electrocute.

She has to wonder, “Who were you texting yesterday?”

Adrien’s brain freezes for a second. It recovers, and he smiles easily. “Chloé.”

“Oh.” Marinette nods. That’s an acceptable answer. “Well…thank you…Minou,” she tacks on as a reward and smiles when it makes him light up.

She reaches out and gives the bell on the choker around his neck a tentative tap. “You’re awesome, Minou.”

Every nerve in Adrien’s body is singing at the sinful things she’s doing to him. In his head, he chants, “Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her.”

All without breaking eye contact, he takes her hand and gives the side of her index finger a kiss that involves the slightest brush of teeth.

Marinette’s breath hitches. She may have found some of his buttons (touching the bell and calling him “Minou” are obviously turn-ons), but he’s got his fingers on her triggers too.

“You’re very welcome,” he purrs, nuzzling her hand.

Both Chat and Adrien seem to have a thing about her hands.

“I’d fall on the sword for you anytime…Princess,” he whispers the last word, kissing her hand deferentially and dipping into one of Chat’s bows.

Her breath catches in her throat as she sees double.

Twins. They have to be. How else could two people be more alike? But she’s already chased her tail concerning this theory. As much as it must be true, it every bit as much can’t be true.

Adrien straightens up and gives a look of concern at her silence. He lets go of her hand. “Marinette? I-I’m sorry. That was crossing a line, wasn’t it?” he sputters, once again afraid that he’s ruined everything. “I—”

“—N-No,” she quickly assures, shaking her head and scattering the tears that have begun to fall in the process.

One lands on the back of his hand.

“You’re fine. You’re wonderful, Adrien. I just…”

…am feeling confused and overwhelmed and pulled in two directions.

“You’re both so good and sweet and forgiving…” she mumbles.

She shakes her head again. She shouldn’t be around him. He’s pulling her back in. It would be so easy to fall into his arms now that he’s finally interested, but…that would hurt Chat. Again…. Still. It would finally prove to her without a doubt that Marinette is still Ladybug, even without the suit…in the worst way possible. She needs to get away from Adrien and stay away for her own sake as much as for Chat’s.

“Sorry,” she hiccups. “Excuse me. I have to—”

She begins to make a dash for it, but she only gets two or three meters before she remembers the previous morning: the devastated, lonely, hurt look on Adrien’s face when she started to run away. The expression of misery that made her invite him on a picnic with their friends.

She turns back and catches the same pain and disappointment and confusion before he can hide it.

She’s hurting him. He’s done nothing wrong, and she’s torturing him for it. This has to stop. Even if it’s difficult, she has to suck it up and be there for both of her boys.

Marinette takes a deep breath and goes back to leaning up against the wall in front of him, even as her tears continue to fall.

Adrien quirks an eyebrow, looking like he wants to say something but is unsure what the correct thing is.

“I’m tired of running away,” she explains simply. “I’m tired of being a coward and freaking out and causing drama for myself and others. Is this okay? I know I’m probably making you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry about that. I’m trying to stop, but…” She shrugs helplessly. “Is this okay, or would you rather I go?”

“Stay,” he entreats. “I mean…Does it make you uncomfortable to have me looking at you while you’re crying?”

She shrugs again, wiping at her face with both hands. “I don’t care. I’m beyond caring right now. I’m sure it’s not very attractive, but I’m kind of over it.”

Adrien squashes the kneejerk reaction to tell her she’s always attractive. Somehow, he doesn’t think it will help. Chat is tempted to tell her how beautiful she looked in the moonlight last Monday with her hair blowing free and the tear tracks still fresh on her face.

“Not appropriate, Agreste.”

“I mean,” Marinette chuckles darkly, “you might as well get to see a glimpse of my ugly side.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” he assures. “I’m an ugly crier myself.”

She blinks in surprise. “You cry?”

“…All the time?” he laughs ironically, half-heartedly trying to play it off as a joke. “But don’t tell my father; I’m not allowed to have emotions.”

Her clear blue eyes pierce through him. “Oh, Adrien.”

“That…was supposed to sound more like I was joking,” he insists before she can get the wrong idea. “I’m allowed to have emotions.” So long as they’re ones Gabriel approves of. For everything else, there’s the privacy of his bedroom.

“Adrien,” she whispers, giving the bell another tap.

He’s made her feel sorry for him. Again. And the tears are still marching down her cheeks unchecked.

“I don’t suppose you would laugh if I told you how pretty your hair is, would you?” he tries. “Does that only work with Chat?”

She smiles sadly and nods.

“How about if you try imagining Chat naked? Wasn’t that one of the other things?” He’s getting desperate.

Surprisingly, Marinette’s cheeks flush a vibrant floral color. She looks down at her feet and starts spluttering. “T-T-That! That doesn’t work—um…” She gulps, getting her freak out under control. “That doesn’t work the way it used to. It’s not a funny image anymore.”

“Oh,” he sighs in disappointment and almost asks why not before it hits him. “Oh!” he yelps, his own cheeks lighting up. “S-Sorry. Right. That… Forget I brought it up.”

She smiles in embarrassment, fiddling with the lace bracelet on her wrist as she keeps her eyes trained anywhere but on him.

Adrien curses mildly under his breath.

Marinette looks up, startled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.”

He shrugs. “I typically don’t, but this kind of feels like an appropriate situation. I suck at this. I’m bad at cheering people up, and I feel like it’s my fault that you’re crying, so I want to do something to make it better, but I’ve been failing miserably all week, so…Yeah. I feel like cursing is called for in this moment.”

There’s pity in her gaze as the tears keep falling. “Oh, Minou,” she coos. “You’re not failing.”

He wants to argue with her and recount all the times he’s actually made her cry this week while attempting to show his support and cheer her up. More than that, though, he wants to hug her. He loves her for fibbing like that in an attempt to make him feel better. It’s working for her.

An idea strikes, sparked by a memory of her kitchen last Monday night. He has one last card to play: “Would you like a hug?” he offers. “Would a hug help? Hugs do make people feel better when they’re upset, right?”

Marinette bites her lip, appearing unsure.

Mentally, Adrien curses again, looking down at his feet and feeling lousy.

She registers his expression for what it is and relents.

Perhaps she has no business hugging Adrien Agreste; perhaps she really does need to get the heck away from him for her own sanity, but she recognizes that her boy needs her right now.

“Would you like a hug, Adrien?” her smile is pure affection as she opens her arms to him.

“God, yes,” he whispers, hesitantly stepping forward.

It’s so automatic for Chat and Marinette to embrace, but Adrien and Marinette is an awkward dance of timidity.

He wants to grab her and pull her in, but he doesn’t want to seem desperate or make her uncomfortable.

She is busy trying to squelch an internal freak out about finally hugging her crush while simultaneously wondering where she should put her hands.

Somehow, they meet in the middle, and once their arms are actually around each other, both parties relax, surprised at how easily their body conforms to the other’s. Marinette naturally places her head on his chest, snuggling into the crook of his neck, and he gently rests his cheek on top, careful not to mess up her hair.

Instantly, the world feels like a more hopeful place because Marinette is in Adrien’s arms without the gloves and protective suit getting in the way. It’s so much easier to feel her through regular clothing, even though he is still wearing a leather jacket. She’s warm and soft, and she smells fantastic. The scent isn’t as acute to his normal human nose, but with said nose in her hair, it’s fairly pronounced, and Adrien is sure he could drown in it happily.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pieces of her hair sticking to his lips.

He can feel cold tears on his neck, but they seem to be falling more slowly now.

“Thank you,” she returns. “For trying so hard to make me feel better. Not just now, but all week. I know I burst into tears pretty much every single time, but I did appreciate your kindness.”

“I am never going to get over this boy. I’m going to break Chat’s heart all over again. I’m going to end up like one of those two-timing witches in the dramas.”

“It’s okay,” Adrien mumbles, giving her hair a reassuring nuzzle. “I have to admit, I feel better now that I know why, though.”

Marinette tenses. “Chat told you?”

Adrien mentally kicks himself. “Stop getting drunk on her scent and pay attention, Idiot. You’re two separate people to her, so keep what each one knows straight already.”

“Not everything,” he hedges. “Apparently I look like your crush…and then there’s the Monday thing.”

Marinette shifts uneasily.

“I’m sorry. If I had realized that what I said would get back to you, I—”

“—Stop,” Marinette’s words are almost inaudible, but he can feel her lips moving against his throat. Her left hand tightens, grasping the fabric of his mother’s jacket’s collar. “Don’t apologize for Monday ever again, okay? You were set up. I should be apologizing to you.”

“But…” He wants to argue even though he knows how pointless it is. “I feel bad for making a day that already sucked even worse for you.”

She shakes her head to the best of her ability. “I’ve made the intervening week between then and now hell for you.”

And heaven, he mentally adds.

“Not that I’m narcissistic enough to think I have the power to ruin your entire week, but—”

“—You do,” he confesses.

A silent “Oh” hangs in the air.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t be.”

What he doesn’t say is, “I like it. I have a thing about women with the power to ruin me with a word.”

“Adrien, I’m kind of involved with Chat Noir.” She tries to break the news gently, but there’s no other way she can think to say it.

“He told me. You two are just going to be friends for now, but in a month or two, once you’re over your previous crush, you’re going to decide what kind of relationship you two want to have.”

“He tells you a lot of things,” Marinette observes, her heart beating in her throat.

“Do you think I could get a similar deal?”

“W-What?!” she squeaks, pulling back to stare dumbstruck up at him.

His arms keep her more or less in place so that their faces are still less than a foot apart, and he smiles softly, anxiety plainly on display in his eyes.

“We don’t really know each other well, do we?” he observes.

She shakes her head distractedly. His eyes are so pretty close up.

“But we could fix that,” he suggests, tone hopeful.

She makes herself look away and pay attention to what he’s saying. It’s hard when her body feels like pins and needles at every point where it touches his.

“Adrien, I’d like to, but I’m not really at my best right now. I’m sure Chat has told you how messed up I am at the moment. I don’t know if I can… This isn’t fair to-to either of us, and—I really shouldn’t…I shouldn’t be…Chat is such a great guy, and I can’t…” She bites her lip as she trails off. She meets his gaze with a lost look.

How is she supposed to tell him she needs to stop being in love with him? How does she explain the need to separate the real him from the one she’s constructed in her head before she can even flirt with the idea of dating him? How does she tell Chat about her feelings for Adrien? How does she tell Adrien no because it’s Chat’s turn to be loved and adored like he deserves now?

“You deserve better than this, than me,” Marinette whispers.

He opens his mouth to protest, but she covers his lips with her fingers.

“You both do. I’m sorry,” she chuckles ironically. “What a mess.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he mumbles against her fingers and gives them a little kiss. “Chat told me you’re not dating anyone right now. I’m not asking you out, Marinette. Not yet. But…will you be my friend for a month or two and then make that decision? I mean…I’d like to date you, but only if you want. If you decide you just want to be friends, fine. I’ll find some way to be okay with that. Just…be my friend and think about it? I’m not trying to pressure you or anything; I’m just putting my name in the hat. Okay?”

She bites her lip, knowing it’s in her best interest to say no but, at the same time, seeing how badly he wants this. It’s hard to deny him, long-term object of her affections.

“Please?” he urges, beginning to fidget. “I really like you, and I know you’re not indifferent to me.”

“Did Chat tell you that?” Marinette grumbles through gritted teeth. She makes a mental note never to tell the chatterbox anything she doesn’t want Adrien to know ever again.

“You showed me that,” he corrects. “Saturday, when you were flirting with me. You wouldn’t have done that just to get information on Chat out of me. A part of you must be attracted to me on some level…at least…that’s what I’m banking on.”

She returns his sheepish smile with one of her own. “Guilty,” she whispers, her eyes tracking his tongue as it moistens his lips. “I’m not indifferent to you, Adrien Agreste, but I have to wonder when exactly you changed your mind about me. Didn’t you say last Monday that you had never thought about me romantically before? And I don’t think I’ve done much to improve your opinion of me between now and then.”

Adrien winces, averting his eyes and readjusting his arms around her. “Chat has told you about how messed up his life is, right?”

She makes a soft sound of agreement.

“Mine is too,” he mumbles. “It makes you really, really good at compartmentalizing. An example: ‘my father does bad things’ and ‘I love my father’ go in separate drawers, one of which I keep shoved in the very back of my mental closet behind all the Hanon I’ve ever had to play.”

His eyes meet hers once more, and he reaches up to wipe away the last of the tears. “‘Marinette is just a friend’ and ‘Marinette has eyes I could fall into and gladly drown in’ go in separate drawers. Just because I’ve never allowed myself to think about you like that doesn’t mean that I don’t have a mental drawer full of how bright your smile is, how musical your laughter, how amazing you look in your Princess dress, how kind and just and brave you are…”

He smiles bashfully, encouraged by the look of awe on her face but still embarrassed without the mask to hide behind. “This isn’t really as sudden as it seems. I’ve noticed you this whole time…I was just in love with someone else already, so I didn’t allow myself to think about the things I’d noticed. I’m serious when I fall in love. It’s all-consuming, so I only have room for one girl in my heart at a time. I’m sorry it wasn’t you first.”

She internally melts. If she weren’t already in his arms, she’d be falling in now. Mentally, she slaps herself. This is a trap. He’s sucking you in, making you forget about Chat.

“So…you’re finally giving up on Ladybug?” she inquires in a small voice.

His smile turns pained. “Yeah. I mean, if Chat can’t win her over, what hope do I realistically have? I was kidding myself this whole time. It’s not like a superhero and a civilian can have a successful relationship.”

Marinette goes rigid once more, and he’s surprised to find her glaring at him.

“W-What?”

“Maybe not you and Ladybug, but Chat and I can,” she snorts. “After all, Chat and I have actually spent more than five minutes together when he wasn’t just rescuing me. We have an actual foundation for a relationship.”

Adrien winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… I wasn’t talking about you and Chat. You and Chat will be fine, provided you don’t dump him the second you find out his identity.”

“I’m going to love him no matter who he turns out to be,” she growls defensively.

“Even if it’s me?” Adrien wonders.

She stares at him intently for a minute, a jumbled ball of emotions rolling across her face: anger, confusion, frustration, pity…

He’s expecting her to slap him or at least pull out of his arms and away from him, so he’s taken aback and stunned speechless when she leans in and places a solid kiss to his cheek.

“Even if it’s you, you idiot,” she snaps. “Now shut the hell up before I kick your other shin. Oh—!”

He knocks the wind out of her when he pulls her back in for a crushing hug. “It wasn’t just a celebrity crush, you know,” he whispers against the shell of her ear. “I’m not just being ridiculous. I need you to know that my feelings are worth something. The Ladybug I fell in love with isn’t the one on TV always saving the day. Not the perfect image she projects for the public. I know what it’s like to be loved like that; that’s how people love me, and I would never do that to her. The Ladybug I loved was Chat’s Ladybug: the clumsy, cocky, insecure, just-trying-her-best Ladybug whom I got to know through Chat. Ladybug and Adrien Agreste might not have spent much time together, but that doesn’t mean what I felt for her was invalid. I really did love her this whole time. Even though I’m letting go of that love, it was still real,” he insists with an intensity and desperation that get across what Ladybug meant to him…and how important it is to him for Marinette to understand that.

Marinette lets her eyes slip closed as she gives Adrien a butterfly kiss on the neck. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I’ve been really unfair to you.”

He rests his head on top of hers. “I don’t think I’ve been any better.”

“Meh,” she replies noncommittally. “Let’s start over with a clean slate. Let’s be friends.”

“I’d really like that,” he sighs, breathing in the scent of her hair once more.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up for a romantic relationship, though,” she quickly adds. “I’ll keep it in mind, but I’m falling in love with Chat, and if we decide to pursue a relationship, you and I can only be friends. He’s too wonderful a guy to have a cheating girlfriend. If I’m his, I’m his entirely. I don’t want to hurt you, Adrien, but I can’t hurt Chat. Okay?”

“Okay,” Adrien whispers, and it takes all of his acting skills and self-control not to let his excitement show. He wants to pick her up and swing her around and pepper her face with kisses…but that would be entirely inappropriate behavior for Adrien Agreste in this moment.

“Okay,” she sighs, relaxing once more into his embrace. “Good.”

They’re still for a moment, coming down from the emotional discussion and just breathing.

“You smell like Chat,” Marinette murmurs, her lips on his neck feeling like a series of pleasant shocks.

Adrien’s brain shuts down. “Uh…sorry? Is that…a bad thing?”

She knows what he smells like? He thought noting other people’s scents was a Black Cat Miraculous side effect.

“No. Chat smells wonderful,” she hums, somehow not noticing how she’s affecting him. “It’s a delicious smell. Chat’s smell is calming.”

“How do you know what Chat smells like?” he has to ask.

Does Chat smell that strongly? That distinctly? Could it be a clue to his identity that someone other than Marinette could pick up on? Should he be worried about this when a beautiful girl is in his arms telling him he smells good? That is what she’s implying, right? Chat smells good. Adrien smells like Chat. Therefore, the transitive property would say that Adrien smells good.

C (Chat smell) = B (good). C (Chat smell) = A (Adrien smell). Therefore, A (Adrien smell) = B (good). Right?

“Are you really doing this while a pretty girl is hugging you?”

“Of course I know what Chat smells like. I mean, I’ve fallen asleep on top of him twice in the past five days, and—”

She lets out a screech and pulls back, meeting his inquisitive gaze with a look of panic. “—Not like that! We’re not—! It isn’t like that. We haven’t—”

“—Marinette,” he calls, taking her by the arms. “It’s okay. I know. I know it’s not like that.”

She blinks, stunned. “…Well, are you sleeping with him then, since you two are so close that you share that kind of information? It sounds like he tells you everything, including whether or not he’s sleeping with me.”

Adrien grimaces. “Neither of us has ever been in a physical relationship with the other or anyone else, for that matter. Just putting that out there.”

“Well, it’s good to know I have nothing to be jealous of,” Marinette snorts. “…Sorry. I’m a little weirded out by the idea of you and Chat Noir discussing my and Chat Noir’s sex life.”

Adrien’s face glows Santa-suit-red, and he really wishes he could tell her that he and Chat are the same person and have her believe him this time. He’d try explaining it to her again, but he’s pretty sure he’d only get kicked in the other shin for his trouble. She’s not in any condition to listen.

With an enormous sigh, Adrien constructs a passable half-truth. “It’s not just you, Marinette. It’s everything. We talk about everything.”

She pulls a little farther back and studies his face inquisitively.

“We’re both socially inept,” he laments to the floor. “We spent our childhood mostly kept away from people our own age, so now it’s painfully difficult trying to fit in and not say or do anything too weird. We don’t know what we’re doing, and we’re always second-guessing ourselves, so we talk about everything. At the end of the day, we go back over and pick it all apart—everything we said and did, the way people reacted, the things other people said, anything we noticed other people doing that didn’t make sense… We study and analyze and try to figure out what to do going forward. Yesterday we agonized over whether it was a good idea for Chat to talk to you about Félix and what things were like growing up. Today it will probably be an ‘Oh crap!’-fest concerning whether and how to tell the girl you like that your father is a criminal.”

He forces himself to meet her eyes as he apologizes, “We’re sorry. We never meant to betray your trust. It wasn’t intentional, but…there’s just no barrier between the two of us. If there’s something you don’t want one of us to know, you shouldn’t tell the other. Marinette, it’s probably best for everyone if you just start trying to treat us like two halves of the same person…. Okay? Sorry.” He begins to backpedal. “I know lately with Chat and me there’s been a lot to process. We know we’re wearing you out, and we’re sorry. We—”

“—Shh.” Marinette smiles reassuringly as she gently places her fingers over his lips.

She’s never seen Adrien looking so frantic and vulnerable. It’s easy to see how much he wants to make sure she understands. It takes him even farther away from the cool and mature mental image of him that Marinette has been carrying around. It makes him look more like Chat: sensitive, innocently hopeful, and accosted on all sides.

Codependent twins.

She mentally updates her theory.

Marinette gingerly pulls him back into her arms and rests her head on his chest. “It’s okay, Minou.”

One hand reaches up to lightly tap the bell on his choker.

He goes still and relaxes, nuzzling her hair to comfort himself.

“Everything is fine. Chat is fine. You’re fine. I’m fine. We’re all going to figure this out together….” She hums thoughtfully. “This is what Chat meant when he said you two were a package deal, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he mutters into her hair. “Buy one, get more than you bargained for.”

She bites her lip, trying to decide how to reply. She can’t say anything to raise his hopes, but, at the same time, she wants to build him up as a friend. “…More isn’t always a bad thing…but let’s just be friends for now, the three of us. This is all too much too fast.”

He makes a lazy noise of agreement, getting comfortable in her embrace.

“…You really needed a hug, didn’t you?” she notes gently, careful so that he knows she’s not judging.

“Do you mind?” he wonders. “You said all Chat had to do was ask, but what about Adrien?”

Marinette’s mind screams that this is a bad idea. She was all set to give up on him, but now he’s drawing her back in.

“Feel free to ask, but know that there are times when I’ll say no,” she cautions.

“That’s fair,” he agrees, accepting the boundaries she chooses to set.

They hold each other loosely in silence for a minute or so before Marinette sighs, “God. What is that that makes you two smell so fantastic? Is that shampoo? Aftershave? This is going to drive me nuts.”

Adrien bites his cheek trying not to crack up. She’s like a frustrated hunting dog who has lost her quarry. “What does it smell like?”

“Something sweet—not baked goods, though. More like chocolate, but then it’s kind of herbal and minty with a touch of floral,” she reports, taking experimental sniffs of his hair, his neck, his chest.

“Oh.” He blushes, trying not to react. “That would be Bvlgari Blv. I have the shampoo and the shower gel.”

She nods slowly. “I’ve heard of Bulgari before. Didn’t you do an add for…watches, I wanna say?”

He blinks. “Uuumm…Oh! Yes. It was a couple years ago.” His brow creases. “You have a really good memory.”

She shrugs, pointedly looking away. “You forget I’m a fangirl,” she mutters wryly and then attempts to steer the conversation away. “Is the shower gel and the shampoo expensive?”

He shrugs. “Not really.”

Marinette overexaggerates an eyeroll. “Would it be expensive for me?” she clarifies. “Does it cost more than…say…fifteen euros for a bottle?”

He winces. “Yes?”

She gives a wistful sigh.

“Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking of picking up a bottle just to keep around the house and sniff from time to time like a stalker,” she confesses, throwing all shame out the window.

Chat knows she’s a weirdo, and he still seems to like her. If Adrien is going to decide that he likes her now, he might was well know the person he’s thinking about pursing.

“You can go ahead and tell him that,” she volunteers. “He’ll probably get a kick out of knowing I like the way he smells.”

She grins, and it makes his stomach flutter.

He suddenly feels less weird for wanting to buy a bottle of her shampoo to keep around the house.

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” Adrien chuckles, amused indeed. “Bvlgari Blv does seem to be a popular scent, though. You probably won’t be pleased to hear this, but Chloé likes it too.”

“Does she?” Marinette sniffs indignantly. “Well, at least she has good opinions about at least one thing.”

Adrien shrugs. “She says it’s…” He stops dead as he considers the appropriateness of Chloé’s opinion for the current time and place.

“Orgasmic,” Chloé herself completes as she approaches.

Adrien and Marinette spring apart, flushing furiously.

Chloé raises an eyebrow.

“Hey, Chlo,” Adrien greets with a watery smile.

Chloé shakes her head. “Adri-chou, I thought you only wanted to be friends with her so that you didn’t screw everything up.”

Adrien wilts.

Marinette looks back and forth between the two in curiosity.

“Chloé, Marinette and I were just talking about how we just wanted to be friends,” he informs through gritted teeth, hoping his oldest friend will let it drop.

“I think you’re both confused,” Chloé snorts, but then she sees the pained expression on Adrien’s face and relents. “I’m sure that’s none of my business, though, if you decide you want to seduce her with your shower gel. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go explain to Monsieur Damocles how my Daddy will not look kindly upon the school for unjustly punishing me for a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, Chlo,” Adrien groans, resting his face in his hand. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Chloé gasps, shocked that Adrien would even suggest such a thing. “It was simply a misunderstanding. The misunderstanding wasn’t even my fault…but if you two want to stand out here and make goo-goo eyes at each other, that’s probably not a bad use of time. If you go back to class, you might find Ivan has gotten himself akumatized. It certainly has nothing to do with me, though.”

“Oh, Bee,” Adrien reiterates. “We’ve talked about this.”

Chloé shrugs. “It was a misunderstanding!”

He looks at her with sad eyes, and she caves. “I’ll apologize later,” she mutters.

“Thank you, Chlo.” Adrien gives her a smile and pats her on the back as she passes.

Marinette feels oddly jealous. She’s aware that Chloé is no longer claiming Adrien as her betrothed, but there’s still a strange camaraderie between Adrien and Chloé that bothers Marinette.

Chloé smiles at Adrien and then pauses when her gaze locks with Marinette’s. Chloé cringes slightly at first before she’s able to school her expression into casual distaste. “If my Adri-chou has his heart set on you now, I suppose I’ll have to learn to tolerate you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. After all, I’m going to be your children’s favourite aunt, so we had better start getting along, I guess.”

With a “hmph” of disdain, Chloé flips her ponytail over her shoulder and turns on her heel to complete her march to the principal’s office.

Once she’s gone, Marinette shudders. “I’m pretty sure Alya is going to be my children’s favourite aunt.”

“I’m sure it will be quite the knock-down, drag-out battle,” Adrien sighs, trying not to picture it.

Still shaking her head, Marinette points herself in the direction of class. “I’m heading back.”

“What about the possible akuma?” Adrien worries, not wanting Marinette back in danger.

Marinette smirks. “At least then I’ll be able to see Chat, right?”

“You could just text him,” he sighs, following obediently behind her.

#Marichat #Adrinette #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Denial #Identity Shenanigans #Flirting #Friendship #Friends to Lovers #Relationship Repair #Misunderstandings #Fluff #Mikau's Writings #The Rejects Club

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babe-for-broadway · 8 years ago

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A Lovely Night

Title: A Lovely Night

Fandom: Les Miserables

Character: Enjolras

Pairing: Enjolras & (F) Reader

Words: 1464

Description: Enjolras walks you home because you said he wasn’t a gentleman. Then he offends you and you get salty. [Very closely based off of ‘A Lovely Night’ from La La Land.]

Author’s Note: If you see something like this posted on Wattpad with the author saltydalty07, that’s just me, not some plagiarizer-person. I hope you enjoy it, this is my first (and probably only one for a while) Les Miserables one shot!

It was a wonderful and productive Wednesday night. As usual, the meetings on Wednesdays ended earlier than usual due to the fact that some of the revolutionaries had 7 AM classes the day after. And by some of the revolutionaries, that mostly included their leader. Although his country comes first before everything, he needed to be well educated before he can even begin to save the people of France.

Everyone had left leaving you and Enjolras. He was still getting his papers together while you were already cleaning up the empty chairs and empty tables.

Grantaire had left only a few minutes prior. Of course, you forced him to go before he had too much to drink because like hell are you going to take care of his drunken ass while you clean up.

“Hey, can you pass me that last cup over there?” you ask. He took the glass and passed it over to you, his eyes still scanning his pieces of paper before stuffing them into his bag.

You smiled. “You know,” you start, keeping your eyes on the table you’re wiping. “Sometimes I forget how much of a gentleman you really are.

Most of the people that’re left here when I clean up don’t even have the courtesy or respect to avoid spilling their drinks on the floor. Of course, most of them are drunk but still. I won’t lie, sometimes I find you annoying because you seem to put all these revolution plans above everything, but it’s tiny moments like these that–” You looked up from your table and realized he’d left. You felt insulted. You were complimenting him, he could have at least stayed to hear it all!

You opened the door and looked down the street, seeing him walking. “Hey!” you yell. He turns around, a look of slight annoyance on his face.

“You were rambling,” was all he managed to say as if it were a good enough excuse for his rudeness.

“Can’t you be a gentleman for once and–!” You stopped, your face melting into a half-smile that read ‘I should’ve seen that coming.’ This was so typical of him. You were also a bit ashamed with yourself. He does one nice thing but that doesn’t mean he’s a gentleman. He’d probably be the type to pull a chair out for a girl and forget to push it back in for her. You groaned. What were you expecting from Mister 'my country is my mistress?’ “Never mind.”

Annoyed and curious all the same, he stopped and turned around to prove your unfinished statement wrong. “Finish up quickly. You’re lucky your apartment is in the same direction.” He’d be lying if he meant that the direction of your apartment was the only reason he was offering to walk you at all.

You rolled your eyes and threw your apron on the rack before locking up the doors and running to catch up to him.

As you two walked, there was an awkward silence. Although you were glad he was walking you, it didn’t stop you from being petty and salty as fuck.

Enjolras looked at the sky. It was filled with different shades of blue and purple. Like you two had just missed a sunset but were just in time to see its beauty fade away slowly.

“The sky seems quite exquisite today, doesn’t it?” He asked, staring at the canvas above him.

In your mind, you saw two options: (1) You could agree with him and start a healthy conversation or (2) continue being petty as fuck and say nothing. Obviously, you chose the latter.

He chuckled. “What’s so funny?” you ask, a bit annoyed and self-cautious.

“Nothing, really. It’s just that this sunset reminds me of the sunsets you only ever get to read about. The types that don’t even seem real.”

You stared at him skeptically, waiting for him to explain. “You know the ones. Where you miss the sun almost completely, except for that small glimpse you catch just before it disappears entirely. Then it becomes dark enough to see the silhouettes of the buildings in the far distance, but not dark enough for the street lights to turn on. Or maybe even the small yet distinct line of silver that stretches all the way to the sea.” His eyes were glued to the colors in the sky as it slowly yet gracefully faded from golden yellow, to raging red, to a softer and calmer purple before finally settling on the cool and breezy dark blue it was.

You had to admit that he was rightーthe view was amazing. “I don’t see your point.”

“It’s almost as if the sky had been tailor made just for two people to stumble upon ー much like you and I had. Of course, if that were the case, then it’d just be a shame.”

You raised a brow. “And why is that?” you asked, stretching the first word a little slowly.

“Because,” he started. “Indisputably, had any other pair stumbled across this same very sky we stand under, they would have loved it. Romanced under it, maybe even.” He sighed. “Yet, out of the thousands of people and the millions of combinations that exist, regrettably the universe chose us.”

“And what exactly is wrong with 'us?’”

He turned to look at you, an amused half-smile on his face. “Because we, (Your Name), have no shot at anything together. None at all.”

You stopped, scoffing with a half amused and half insulted smirk. “Really now?”

“Oh don’t be so surprised, you’re not even my type.” He said, keeping his eyes on the road he was walking. “There’s no spark and that’s that.”

You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight. “Well, then I guess it is a waste. The beautiful sky, I mean.” You two continued walking in a somewhat comfortable silence but the same uncomfortable feeling kept echoing in the recesses of your mind—He ended that conversation. Who does he think he is? It’s not like you want to be his type anyway.

After the silence, you couldn’t help it. Maybe you didn’t want to leave something unsaid, maybe you were just petty, but next thing you knew you were saying, “Well, just to, you know, clear things up, it’s not like I would have wanted to be your type anyway.”

He seemed to have been a bit offended by your statement based on his facial expression. “What? I’m just saying. You’re going on and on about how nothing can happen between us anyway, I just want to make it clear that I wouldn’t like someone like you either.”

He stopped to scoff and look at you like you were a rare gorilla in a zoo— amused yet unamused at the same time. You realized how that sounded. “I mean, I’m not saying you’re not attractive— you do look quite dashing in your little golden xylophone getup,”

“It’s a coat,” he corrected.

“I’m just saying that I wouldn’t be interested in someone as… passionate? As you?” You said, as if asking if passionate was the right word and hoping he wouldn’t get too offended (Of course, a pettier side of you still hoped he would to some degree.)

“But yeah, you’re right, we’d never work anyway. I’d never fall for you at all.” You grin mischievously as you walk away.

“Maybe your whole blond-with-blue-eyes look can charm most of the other girls–particularly other girls who don’t work at bars–but not me. In fact, I’m frankly feeling nothing,” He smiled and caught up to you.

“Is that so?” he asked, a bit insulted yet even more intrigued with the conversation.

“Actually, now that you point it out,” you said, putting on a fake look of contemplation. “It might be less than nothing.” You joke.

He chuckled a little. “Well, I’m glad you agree. What a waste.” He smirked at her.

“That’s right. What. A. Waste.” You say, smiling back at him.

The rest of the walk had been quiet— but a comfortable quiet. You walked closer to him, enjoying the view. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you looked at him surprised, (you weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but you could have sworn his cheeks seemed pinker) but he continued to keep watching the road. You didn’t mind.

After maybe a handful of minutes, you both arrived at the bottom of your apartment. You thanked him for walking you and before you entered the building, he stopped you to ask. “(Your Name), a little question before I leave,”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Am I really that unlovable?”

You smiled. “Oh, absolutely. And what about me?”

He smiled back. “I’m afraid so.”

#les mis #les miserables #enjolras #les mis enjolras #les miserables enjolras #barricade boys #the xylophone #enjolras imagines #enjolras one shots #one shots #les mis imagines #les miserables imagines #les mis one shots #les miserables one shots #enjolras x reader #les mis x reader #les miserables x reader #la la land #a lovely night

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punkscowardschampions · 6 years ago

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Junior & Nancy

Gay nerds

Junior: Nance, how on earth are you tackling this art project? To say I'm discombobulated is an understatement that isn't getting me an A any time soon! Nancy: 😕 sums it up in a way. Obviously I can fall back on the twin thing but is that too safe? 😩 But we couldn't be more different Junior: 😖 Like, I love how vague and open to our own interpretation it is...but also I fucking hate how vague and open to our own interpretation it is! 😢😂 No one would blame you; least of all me, 'cos I was tempted- being the sore thumb I am when counting our ten- and I've not even got the twin angle everyone is so about in all areas of art tbh Junior: If nothing else, Buster is a willing participant in a photo op always? Junior: Ooh, you could get something matchy match from your childhood photos (I know they exist) and splice it with portraits of you now...Think that elevates it Nancy: You've put your finger on it. Nancy: But I don't think you're so right about the lack of blame 🤔 even with the boy/girl straight/gay redhead/brunette angle it still feels ??? Nancy: Basic 😒 Junior: I get you Junior: Meant to become the next Magritte in just 4 weeks, like !!! Junior: Well, I've heard at least 4 girls from class saying they're going to do a heavily made-up portrait next to a #nofilter #naturalbeauty one so Junior: We'll do better than that by default but I'd like to come up with something vaguely original still Junior: Miss' sanity relies on us lowkey, no pressure 😷😜 Nancy: I had that passing thought let it go though 😜 Nancy: You could text her Nancy: 😕 yes pressure Nancy: What to do? Junior: I like to keep it in professional hours Junior: for her sake, she gets a bit amorous when she's had a glass o vino after work Nancy: 😮 she does? Nancy: can I bribe my way to top of the class by raiding the cellar Junior: That was my second suggestion 😏 Junior: Take one for the team please 🙏 Nancy: but she's straight STRAIGHT Nancy: couldn't be enough Nancy: back to the mindmap Junior: Damn straights 😒 Junior: if all else fails, we can put this grade next to our last Junior: break the fourth wall, v meta Nancy: our school gets the one bohemian who is Nancy: put her next to the sterotypical art teacher Junior: did you mean my mother? 🤔 Junior: her, the engineer, hilarious 😂 Junior: Mum'd be up for it, you may borrow her Nancy: I might yet Nancy: when's this due again? Junior: we've still got 3 weeks, don't worry Junior: just trying to get it over and done with here Nancy: I should Nancy: The Tempest essay is due soon Junior: Don't remind me, even the gayness can't make it enjoyable, like many a teen show 🤷 Junior: Could combine? Somehow? Umm Junior: The supernatural characters and the humans...why yes, I am clutching at straws Junior: This term is killing me Nancy: If I'd get away with handing in some shots instead of an essay I would Nancy: not happening Nancy: 😩 Nancy: What ideas have you had? For the juxtaposition...forget the tempest Nancy: burn that Junior: If only, 1000 words=1 photograph, no contest really Junior: again, if only Will had 💀 Junior: The idea I can't get out of my head, even though it has been done to death so is BEYOND basic, is mashing up a classical art piece with something modern and pop culture...to say something about me (eww!) Junior: Tbf, they usually use Renaissance or very very famous art pieces so I could win points by using some relevant surrealism/ going beyond calling Mona Lisa #flawless Junior: Its all I've got Nancy: I think it's good Nancy: Let's both run with overused concepts and make them not basic in our way Nancy: act like we planned it Nancy: nobody has to know we had no other ideas Junior: Absolutely 😎 Junior: Total confidence is key, comes so natural to the both of us, like Junior: I think worrying about being 'original' is the true hack thing to do here anyway 💅 Nancy joined the chat 13 hours ago Nancy: 😖 yes Nancy: stealing that all Nancy: now if you could keep it going and give me some thoughts on shakespeare to plagiarize 😜 Junior: If I could, I would but even SparkNotes isn't helping me Junior: shall we peruse the best film/stage adaptations? maybe tomorrow night if you're free Nancy: I've seen the 2010 version a few times for obvious reasons Nancy: but yeah the others not so much Nancy: we need to do something that isn't me asking my mum for help Junior: Oh, babe 😂 that's the real tragedy here, you doing that to yourself Junior: maybe I'll borrow her and she can do mine for me Junior: still down for a movie night obviously Nancy: 🙉 Nancy: Lead female character Nancy: Shakespeare should've Nancy: Please do take her Nancy: mum swap 😂 Junior: As much as Bill LOVED any excuse for a drag show darling... stick with the evil queens and witches 😘 Junior: Let's do this, full family swap! Let them drive you insane for a bit whilst I live the life 😬 Nancy: Switch that around both my parents are so type A Nancy: Plus you've got all the brothers and sisters to dodge behind Nancy: Buster takes more heat off than most but he's still just one boy Junior: well, mine would refuse to be bound to a type, just as annoying I promise Junior: Its true I can mostly fade into obscurity with all their shenanigans, yet it still somehow isn't the case, just 12 nosy people in your business instead of the usual 2, with a disinterested brother flexing off in the background Nancy: 🙈 Nancy: I'm not having kids Nancy: Don't care if the future wife is frantic Junior: It is an issue that divides all of us tbh Junior: I don't think I'd mind one, to put all my efforts into Junior: but unlikely Junior: unless I co-parent from the sidelines with your wife Nancy: weirder scenarios have come about Nancy: I'd prefer a kitten Junior: steal one when you come over Junior: Ma'd probably notice but really, do we need so many? Nancy: Gran's such a dog person can I get through the door Junior: True, true Junior: Always living on such extremes this fam Junior: I don't know 😏 Nancy: look at me and my brother ultimate homo and hetero Nancy: embarrassing Junior: 😂 Junior: I'd love to suggest he doth protest too much but lbr Nancy: dad's never been prouder 😂 no teen pregnancies for his little girl Nancy: shakespeare would write that Junior: Who are we putting our money on to go first Nancy: that's harder than it sounds Junior: Rio is obvious choice but I sometimes think Grace might go insane and come along and take the claim Junior: *Shudders* Nancy: change the subject I beg you Nancy: I'd rather hear about your attempts to avoid your secret admirer who's a girl and hopelessly 💘 Junior: well, I would rather pretend that was not a thing 😬 Junior: as your brother once eloquently put it, when he was very pissed, 'i could clean up and get untold amounts of pussy' Junior: and that's that on that Junior: considering getting a face transplant 'cos my off-putting demeanour is not doing enough 😒 what problems to have, eh? the privilege of it all! 😂 Nancy: maybe we should go under together Nancy: moral support and potential discount Nancy: if I get told I don't look gay one more time I'm returning my badge Junior: well, where is your crewcut and tank top, like? 🤔 Junior: out here confusing the masses like that, idk Nancy: 🙉 Nancy: Not an identical twin playing tricks either how dare I Junior: why can't you just get in your box and like it, god damn it Nance! Nancy: unrelated except about boxes but should I get some new kit for this project or am I just stalling Nancy: a memoir Junior: any excuse 😜 Junior: but yes, do it Junior: i'm using it as excuse to go 'round all the best art galleries in town again so Nancy: Can I tag along Nancy: they're so quiet it's everything Junior: Naturally Junior: We're art students, we've gotta act like it, I'll keep the pretentious commentary to a minimum if you keep the equally as pretentious 'grams down too 😘 Nancy: I'll try Nancy: The feed wants what it wants though Junior: Can't argue, just leave the real money outta the shot Junior: Gotta leave my fangirls wanting more, like 😂 Nancy: That I will promise Nancy: Not trying to be mobbed by straight girls Junior: You mean you resist the lesbian stereotype of LOVING that too?! Nancy: Somehow it's managed Junior: no mean feat, one of the few gays in the village Nancy: Don't clap it's too loud 😂 Junior: *Finger clicks like this a slam poetry night* Nancy: Thank you Nancy: [sends a selection of childhood pictures] how early years can I go before everyone's rolling their eyes Nancy: Thank you too mum for these. Why did you do this to us? 🙈 Junior: Awww what 👼 Junior: This is how I like to remember Buster, before it all went wrong... 😉 Nancy: 👶🥕 Nancy: The glory days Junior: Weren't they just? Junior: At least you didn't have an extra older sister to dress you up, that's worse...the photos I could bring out, good lord 🙄 Nancy: 😜 And I wasn't that sister. You've welcome Buster Nancy: 🍀 Junior: *Whispers* Can we agree he needs SOMEONE to give him a makeover tho Nancy: I volunteer you as tribute Nancy: I've tried Junior: Maybe next family gathering Junior: if he shows Nancy: Bide your time Nancy: birthday present failsafe idea Junior: the amount of birthday celebrations in this fam is unholy Junior: We have a better social life than I would ever wish for, ugh Nancy: don't make me think about it Nancy: I'm sharing and it's made no difference Junior: wouldn't want you to miss out on all that good good attention we all crave 😂 Nancy: 🙈 Junior: Speaking of attention, have you heard the latest gossip that has piqued our peers? Nancy: You tell me Nancy: I can't think of anything off the top of my head Junior: Mark Colm Junior: a massive gay? Junior: I can't make up my mind if they're just hysterical and he's just a bit camp Junior: or there's something in it Nancy: He's one of us Nancy: Definitely crushing on the headboy I've seen him looking Junior: Isn't everyone? Junior: Even the teachers, complete popularity contest got him that position Junior: Interesting, though... Nancy: Besides me in my minority of one Nancy: And Sian would never Junior: Sian Gaffney? She's never gay! Thought you didn't do straight girls, you're reaching there Nancy: 🙉 not her she's dating the oldest Keenan lad Jake? Blake? idk Nancy: She'd love to ride half our class anyway Junior: Ohh you mean Mrs Kelly, duh Junior: yeah she's one of the only decent teachers about, doesn't seem like she goes in for all that popularity politics Nancy: No she doesn't Junior: Seems like a good place to while away a lunchtime Nancy: don't tell everyone how fun it is there'll all wanna join me Nancy: not ready to say goodbye to my happy place Junior: I think your secret is safe from the masses, even if I suddenly got uncharacteristically chatty Junior: Even the ones that don't take the piss and are relatively decent human beings Junior: still rather go get a nandos or whatever it is they do Nancy: Yeah I'm an open book if anyone asks 😂 Nancy: I'll stick with the one stereotype I'm okay with embracing, my eager vegetarianism Nancy: No offence lads Junior: Its all kale and charitable acts with this one Junior: No ulterior motives at all 😏 Nancy: just a rich girl with more wealth than she can give away 😜 Nancy: nothing else to see here Junior: mhmm okay 👌 Junior: we'll pretend I don't know you better than that Nancy: Hey you don't know everything Junior: True Junior: are you in the mood for telling? Junior: 🤔 Nancy: Sometimes Nancy: Can't put it all in my art Junior: not if you don't want Miss to think you're trying to tell her something Junior: flattered but straight, like Nancy: She's not the one Nancy: She'll be flattered to hear Junior: Indeed Nancy: When there is someone it'd be nice to talk about it Nancy: Sometimes like I said Junior: Well, you know where I am Junior: When there is someone Nancy: But I wouldn't know where to start Nancy: I can't put words to it ?? Not the right ones Junior: That's not just you Junior: If I'm to understand all the songs and poetry professing they too have no words Junior: Can but try 🙂 Nancy: Helpful Nancy: What about you? Headboys to one side. Any crushes? Junior: No, no Junior: No point, is there Nancy: Doesn't mean there's a way to stop yourself Nancy: Wish I could just No at myself Junior: I don't know, I don't find it too hard Junior: but you're out so its different Junior: I wouldn't want to go out with anyone...even if Mark is a gay Junior: what would he want with me Nancy: You're a catch Nancy: Out or not he'd be punching above his weight to have you Junior: I don't think there's any point being with someone if you can't be open with it Junior: Being a dirty little secret isn't going to feel good for either party Nancy: For some people it feels worth it Nancy: Just to be with, or around them Junior: Perhaps Junior: Safe to say I don't feel that deeply for any lad here so yeah Junior: keeping on my shelf for now, like Nancy: There's a junxtaposition, us on our respective ledges Nancy: I can't remember what being happily single is like Nancy: Another lesbian stereotype for the list Junior: Don't, how depressing 😂 Junior: I am not about that angsty teen art life Junior: How do we get you a lady? Junior: Do we have to hit the clubs? Nancy: 🙈 Nancy: No no no Nancy: Give that up for a bad job and worse idea Nancy: I'm too picky Junior: You're speaking to me Junior: vowed a celibate here Junior: we can do this for you Nancy: We can't Nancy: Leave me in my rut Junior: Fine fine 😋 Nancy: I'll be in my dark room angsting 😂 Junior: Noted Junior: I'll drag you out for museums and Tempest film marathon tomorrow, yeah? Junior: 'Til then madame Nancy: Looking forward to it Nancy: Stay inspired 💚 Junior: Stay golden 💛

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ithoughtyouweredifferent · 8 years ago

Text

Chapter 12: Decisions

Word Count: about 3,000

Fact: an ostrich brain is smaller than each of its eyes (like a brain to eye ratio, not brain to both eyes together)

AN: I am so sorry, I haven't updated in ages.

Masterlist

Chapter 11

Chapter 13

Lin must have sent you a hundred texts over the two days following his proposal to co-write his next show. You knew as soon as you had gotten home, but you had fought with yourself anyway. Weighing the pros and cons and probably killing the guy wondering what you were going to say.

Sure you were good, you knew that, but were you good enough to help co-write something that was going to be an initial hit just because of the pre-existing fanbase? What if you were terrible and instead of being an asset you ruined the reputation he had worked so hard to build for himself? But he wouldn’t have asked you to help unless he really did believe that you were good enough.

There wasn’t only that to worry about there was also your own stage fright and how unwilling you naturally were to take credit for anything. No matter how much you contributed, you would have an incredibly difficult time taking any form of credit which you knew would only cause tension because he wouldn’t take the credit for your work. Not just because you knew him well enough that you knew he wouldn’t dream of taking the credit but also because whatever you worked out could too easily find him on the losing end of copyright violations or plagiarism or something. So could you deal with having to take credit for something if it was a success? Did you want to put your current good job at risk for the sake of this that you had never seriously considered?

The third day Lin came to see you at the museum. He was practically bouncing out of his shoes when he walked in and saw you sitting at the desk clicking away and squinting at the computer,

“Hello, welcome to-Lin! Hi I uh I’ve been meaning to call you we should probably talk but not here,” you said widening your eyes hoping he would understand,

“Well, where can we talk? I don;t think you want me to just causal come knock on your door after work-”

“Shhh! I’m about to go on lunch maybe you could wait five minutes and I’ll meet you somewhere? Somewhere that my current coworkers and employer are not right in the other room?” sou hissed through gritted teeth, and saw his face fall,

“So it’s a no?”

“I didn’t say that; I said we need to talk. Please. I go on lunch soon If we can go back to that coffee shop the one where you gave me the score at? I promise to be there in less than ten minutes if you can?”

“Yeah, yeah let’s do that,” he said sounding defeated, “I’ll see you in a little while,” he said and walked out. You watched him go with a pang in your chest and you knew what you were going to say it was just going to be a matter of figuring out the details.

He stood up as soon as he saw you through the window wearing a smile that would fool almost anyone. Almost anyone.

“I was beginning to think you were skipping out on me,” he said with a small chuckle when he pulled out the chair for you. You noticed that he didn’t tackle you with a hug like he usually had,

“No, I could never do that,” you said, “but you know why I have problems with all of this,” you said folding your hands on the table and he scratched his ear,

“I know but listen, you have an amazing talent, a gift, and you can be so dedicated to things and I really think you would be a real asset to this and I’m not saying that juts because you help me think clearer and better and know the words and notes from my brain and get them everywhere else but also because I know you can make equally amazing pieces, probably far more amazing if you only give yourself the chance,” his eyes danced around to anywhere but you, “and we can work something out about slowly easing you into the public eye or pushing it away if that is really what you want. You probably won’t get as much public recognition anyway because you aren’t seen on stage and your name won’t be on the top of the playbill and for anyone else, I would apologize for that but maybe that will be good for you?” he was pitching this to you wth everything he had,

“Lin, look at me,” you saw him suck in a sharp breath, “I’m going to do it, we can do this,” he was standing up before you had a chance to finish your thoughts and practically smothering you in a bouncing up and down embrace and you smiled against his neck “You gotta let me breath,” you sputtered out after a second,

“Right sorry. thank you so much, you have no idea how-”

“Don’t worry about,” you said cutting him off, “I’m really honored and excited too, this is going to be amazing,”

“That’s because you’re going to make it amazing,”

“But we have some stuff we really need to talk about,” you said reluctantly,

“Oh?”

“But now I have to get back to work and I’m sure you have other far more important things to do, Maybe over dinner or something?”

“Right, right, of course, you know, I don’t have anything planned on Friday night,” he suggested and you knew exactly what he meant by that which is why you hesitated for a split second. Of course, it was going to either be at dinner out or at one of your apartments. The whole point of this was going to be to make sure you didn’t fall back into a relationship solely because of what you used to have,

“What if we did Wednesday or Saturday instead? Fridays are usually booked for me nowadays and we can’t start a routine schedule already knowing it’s going to fail. So something different?”

“Something different, I like that,” he nodded his head, “So Wednesdays work? Something to break up a week and maybe as this moves along add Saturdays in as well?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed and smiled when he pulled out a glowing smile, “I have just enough time I should be able to wait in line and get my food and be able to walk back slow enough to be done and on time,” you said and he chuckled,

“The very best part of having a job without a schedule,”

“Wait, there’s one thing that I have to have as a condition, that’s ridiculous since this is a favor anyway but-”

“’s not a favor when you would get it anyway” he interrupted but you ignored him,

“I don’t want to quit my job at the museum. I can hum and think and most days I can just sit and plot out ideas on paper and then try it when I get back home but I don’t want to throw away what I’ve got now,”

“No no no, we’ll make it work. I’m not gonna lie, it’ll be stressful as heck and you'll be exhausted and go insane but I swear to you it’s more than worth it and if after a while you are still insistent that it’s not for you, it’s not like I can force you to come up with ideas and songs but you have to give it a try,”

“If you love your job you’ll never work a day in your life,” you said and he nodded enthusiastically,

“Exactly! And I really think you’ll love it if you can just give it an honest try,”

“I already said yes, I won’t just quit but I can’t promise that I won’t be terrible after a while. That would be a disaster,” you said standing up, “This is going to be great, thanks, Lin,”

“Don’t thank me, you’re the one who is amazing Socrates,” he said with wide eyes making your heart flutter. At some point, you knew you were going to have to address the elephant in the room again and decide something, but the dimly lit coffee shop during your short lunch break wasn’t the time or place. “I’ll see you Wednesday night at my place maybe 7?” he asked while the two of you walked out, you hadn’t actually gotten a lunch but that was okay, you would just take a banana from the back room if you really needed to.

You walked out into the street together listening to the city,

“I guess silence doesn’t bother you much anymore?” he asked and you shook your head,

“It’s not actually quiet right now, though,” you pointed out, “And I thought we were starting over with a dusty slate?”

“That’s why I’m trying to relearn you,” he said in a duh tone,

“I guess that works,” you said with a small laugh,

“Is Tanya still...”

“You should probably go the other way,” you advised, “I can walk the rest of this block on my own thank you, really, for everything,” you said looking at him and he smiled at you,

“No, thank you. This is going to be amazing,” he promised and you believed it.

You didn’t know how it happened, but it felt like you had hardly turned around before you were following the directions Lin had sent you to his apartment. turn left, left, straight across the crosswalk and then two rights, halfway down the block and then the second floor a third the way down the hall room 217 and knock. You walked slow, hardly believing what you were doing. You were going to begin a musical writing side career? You held your breath when you stood outside his door and raised your hand to knock. In. Out. Knock. In. Wait.

“You’re here!” Lin exclaimed when he opened the door, “I was starting to think you had decided against it after all,” he said scratching the back of his neck and holding the door wider and stepping back so you could come in.

“I told you I’d be here didn’t I?” you asked as a feeble attempt to eliminate the awkward energy that was vibrating around as you walked in but he nodded, still a bit uncomfortable. You couldn’t help but look around his place, it was nice. You weren’t the least bit surprised by some things, the bookcase lining one of the walls filled with albums from so many different eras, decades, and genres it was dizzying. Photographs on the opposite wall of the music and the abstract and vibrant art scattered around the others. It should be a mess but it looked right. You noticed the funky painted fan blades. You noticed the shaggy rug, noticed the baby grand taking up the corner of the room. And then you noticed that you were intruding obviously.

“So how does the whole writing of the next hit on Broadway process work?” You asked and he laughed,

“How do you want it to work? I was thinking I’d show you what I’ve already got and go from there,” he said kneeling down to open the piano bench which you saw was filled to the brim with small composition books and loose papers and books of blank sheet music and sticky notes,

“How can you make sense of any of this?” You asked staring at the mess of paper,

“Very very carefully,” he joked, “but no I’ve got it organized, sort of. See there’s a book for each main character that has an analysis of them, their motivations, their goals, their accomplishments, their core traits then many pages skipped and things I know that they will be known for in the music part, what their reoccurring motifs are what they represent, plus they each have several pages of sheet music with melodies and tunes and stuff that thy routinely carry, see?” he pulled out several books each of them decorated with funky fonts with the name of the character for that book,

“I doodle when I can’t think oof words,” he said making you giggle and he continued to spread them out all over the floor on one side of the piano. You knelt beside him and grabbed one of the books and flipped through it,

“oh and many pages after that we have their relationship to other characters and lemme warn you now that those are hecka complicated in this show,”

“It can’t be too bad,”

“Oh it can be, They are all connected to each other in some way shape or form and interact in different ways but they don’t know that they know each other,”

“That sounds complicated,”

“It is, but it’ll work,” he said,

“So what are all of these?” you asked pointing to the remaining piles of paper,

“Various notes and observations and lines and things that I think will be used but I don’t know where or by who or events that I want in there but I can’t make it work,” he explained, “and just stuff that you just have to know I guess, then there’s this one. Pot outline/overview then as you go further into it, it is a scene by scene breakdown that is nowhere near done,” he said with a small laugh at the end.

“So what do you need me for?” You asked genuinely, “Seems like you’ve kinda got it all under control,”

“Because you’ll make it better than under control,” he said, “Two heads are better than one. And I feel like getting inside the head of the character is something you will be able to do once and then know what they are like in song together we could be unstoppable, so just maybe read a few of these journals on the characters and see what you think, tell me what I need to just scratch and come up with substitutes or something else entirely. What I’m thinking is that this show will be 90% music give or take. It will still make perfect sense and be good for people who can only get the soundtrack but there will be so many of the surprise take my breath away moments for people who come see the show,”

“That sounds amazing,” you said in awe trying to envision it all, “So I should just read these and get back to you or-” he cut your question off with a small laugh,

“I mean you can, but wouldn’t it be nice to get back in the feel of things? Like you said, it’s been a while, what if tonight we just talk and play,” you could feel him trying not to say just like old times but he didn’t, “we’re like half strangers at this point, let’s just get back inside each other’s head maybe?”

“We should talk about that too,” you said reluctantly, “I know we said that we would just ignore it but I think we both know that that won’t work out right. It’s either going to make things weird because we’re trying not to say the wrong thing, so before you let me get too into this whole writing a musical project we need to just be open nad figure us out,” you said with a huffed breath, "but I don’t want either of us to go first and corner the other because even though we’ll both say right now that that won’t happen...” you wished you had some good idea of what you could do to both say what you felt at the same time,

“Well, how’s this,” he said rubbing his chin thinking, “Read Merideth’s journal, Isabella’s and Jacob’s and between now and Saturday and when you come back you can decide who you think has it right and then on Saturday you just tell me which one you relate to more in the way of how they feel about each other,” he suggested, “and I know which one I want you to choose without a doubt,” he said “but if you’re really set on making our decisions separately without being pressured to change your answer then you can just put whoever’s journal you think is what you want to be you on top and I’ll tell you what I think before you show me which one is where I am on us? Or something?"

“Are you sure?” you asked and he pressed three books into your hands and began putting papers back inside the bench

“We can’t work together if we can’t be honest but you’re right, we need a strong foundation for the honesty, I really want this to work out you’re brilliant,”

“You’re none too dull yourself,” you said standing up while he put the top back on the bench

“Shut up Socrates,” he said successfully breaking up the uncomfortable tension and uncertainty that had built up throughout the conversation “So are we going to play and chat or just sit here all night?” he asked and moved from the floor to the bench facing the keys

“Play and chat,” you said grinning sitting beside him to ignore the elephant in the room for just a few hours and enjoy yourself.

Chapter 13

People want to be tagged?: @genericusernameblahblahblah @huffleheyguys @theselfishllama @elladatimelord

#lin x reader #i thought you were different #chapter 12 #itywd #hamiltales #lin manuel x reader #lin manuel miranda x reader

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anonymoustalks · 5 years ago

Text

do multiculturalism and small religious cult based on the concept of love towards your neighbor run by mentally ill people make it more diverse?

(6-18-20) You both like history.

Stranger: Hey

You: hiya

Stranger: Hello

Stranger: Hi

You: another hi wow ^^

You: very... hello-y

Stranger: Halló

You: why we say hello?

Stranger: to greet each other

You: are greeting important?

Stranger: no it's more important to salute than greet

Stranger: let's perform the Roman salute together

You: ;-; but dunwanna

Stranger: why not?Dont you share my war-like Roman spirit?

You: no, I am primitive

Stranger: filthy barbarian, too uncivilized to salute

You: yup ^^

You: I am one with nature

Stranger: do you put up irminsuls everywhere

You: oh that would be fun

You: that's a good idea

Stranger: it didnt end well for those who thought it'd be a good idea

You: it's okay

You: my faith is more important

Stranger: slaughtered by Charlemagne's frankish knights, forced to convert...

Stranger: do you sleep well

You: sure! ^^

You: do you?

Stranger: Yes of course

You: okay that's good

Stranger: what history do you like?

You: mhm, I kind of just forgot to remove this tag lol

Stranger: why did you tag history??

You: I wanted to learn about the balkans

Stranger: about the powder keg of Europe...okay

Stranger: but what period?

You: 1999 ish

You: yugoslavia basically

Stranger: oh the yugoslav war

Stranger: there was a great deal of ethnic tension between ethnic serbs and albanians they started cleansing each other NATO intervened and bombarded Yugoslav cities with DEPLETED URANIUAM as a result Yugoslavia got dismembered

Stranger: oh right

You: sounds like a good summary

You: also why with depleted uranium?

Stranger: many serbs still have cancer because of depleted uranium

Stranger: the type of bombs they used

You: oh

Stranger: I still cant understand why your dad beats you.

You: that's quite a change of topic lol

Stranger: Why does he beat you?

You: mhm because I'm a pagan

Stranger: no pagan would refer to themselves as pagan

You: it's okay, I have my own idea of paganism

Stranger: it means "a commoner" in latin

You: (don't worry I got this!)

Stranger: I hate you

You: :c

You: I feel sad now

Stranger: you're terrible.

You: D:

You: how can I become un-terrible?

Stranger: bring yourself into a permament state of non existence

You: is that nihilism?

Stranger: No its not nihilism -_-

You: okay sorry ^^

Stranger: oh speaking of words starting with nihil

Stranger: have you heard of ex nihilo

You: nope!

You: my linguistic skills are subpar!

Stranger: do you speak Latin

You: nope!

You: I would prefer to learn birdspeech

Stranger: Mao ordered the killing of all sparrows in China.

You: D: that's so sad!!

You: why?!

Stranger: he thought they were pests.

You: that's terrible

Stranger: Yeah

You: humans are more like pests

You: they've infested the planet

Stranger: thats so

Stranger: misanthropic

You: is that bad?

Stranger: it does reflect the actual state of affairs but its still misanthropic

You: I'm sorry if I offended you

Stranger: I just said its misanthropic

Stranger: I am not offended

You: oh okay, good

Stranger: given I am just a small larva not a human

You: oh you are a small human?

Stranger: are you implying small humans(in other words children) are larvae?

You: hm?

Stranger: Oh nvm my mind twisted this a bit

You: I mean children are neither eggs nor adults

Stranger: right

Stranger: do you like shouty children

You: mhm I think they are fine

You: children are being children

You: it's kind of natural I think

Stranger: so you said humans have infested the planet implying humans are evil. are they naturally evil or are they corrupted by society

You: mhm, I don't think any animals are intrinsically good or evil

You: but if there are a lot of them than it is an infestation

Stranger: so corrupted by society?

You: sure we can go with that

Stranger: Oh are you a Rousseauist

Stranger: you spoke of nature and so on

You: oh, I am not that sophisticated

You: I am a pagan

Stranger: shut up

You: sorry >.<

You: but I'm seriously not that sophisticated

Stranger: I know

Stranger: I ken that

You: *headtilt*

Stranger: I must kithe you that I am a mammal.

You: okay

You: I like mammals

Stranger: I must kithe you that I partook in the colonial partition of Africa.

You: oh how old are you?

Stranger: Oldish

You: I wonder how old your mitochondria are

Stranger: wait do you use numbers to measure age

You: idk

You: units of measurement are a social construct

Stranger: so...?

You: numbers are fine

Stranger: should we establish institutions that encourage people to use numbers to describe age

You: I don't know, what do you think?

Stranger: I have no opinion on that

Stranger: should we establish institutitoons of royal power

You: it is hard for me to grasp the concept of royal power

You: or royalty

Stranger: divine right

Stranger: the grace of god

You: can you explain god to me?

Stranger: when discussing Kings and how they justify their power the only God is the biblical one

You: I see

You: I feel like it must have sounded very strange to the pagans

Stranger: No it didnt

Stranger: Ceaser claimed to have descended from Jupiter

Stranger: CAESAR SORRY

You: I think it would have gotten weirder if they went to asia

Stranger: they had local rulers that also justified their rule with similar concepts

Stranger: it wanst all too different throughout the world

You: I think many of them had local gods

Stranger: obviously

Stranger: in almost all polytheistic religions there is an archgod though

Stranger: the god of all gods

You: I think I would prefer to reject gods and stay with my trees

Stranger: until the trees get cut down

You: why are you so mean?

Stranger: I am not going to lie about the harsh realities of this world

You: but you can change the world

Stranger: to what extent?

Stranger: and in what direction?

You: idk, that's up to you

Stranger: you can change the world

You: yup ^^

Stranger: you change the world

You: yup ^^

Stranger: does this sound motivating

You: it sounds depressingly motivating by being not actually motivating lol

Stranger: not so good then

You: no it's probably fine

Stranger: you can change the world for the worse

Stranger: does this sound motivating

You: it sounds motivating through its pessimissim

Stranger: I've never found pessimism motivating

You: mhm, really?

Stranger: especially given the etymology of the word

You: hmm

Stranger: are you thinking

You: idk, probably not anything productive

Stranger: do you like reflecting in bed

You: it's not a bad place to reflect

You: sometimes, I think if I had been born 100 years ago, I would have been very religious

You: but wasn't

You: and now I have a lot of misplaced faith

You: that I don' know what to do with

Stranger: well...right the conventions of the Edwardian era were quite rigid so you had to be religious

You: I should just make my own religion I guess

Stranger: oh no

You: is that bad?

Stranger: you intend to become a cult leader

You: a cult is only bad if you manipulate your cult members

You: otherwise it's just called an ordinary religion

Stranger: so?is there any guarantee that you wont use other believers to build up your own power base?

You: I don't think I need any power

You: we should give our love to the world that surrounds us

Stranger: thats what Christianity says

You: yes but I dont believe in any god

You: so I can't be christian unfortunately

Stranger: so you need a religion as a set of practices that promote the love your neighbor thing

You: good things are made by plagiarizing ^^

You: mhm, I don't think it's bad if someone made a church and community for these beliefs?

You: you can help other people in your church and support them

You: and overall just feel nice in a community

Stranger: Sounds so rosy

You: yup{

You: ^^

Stranger: well...not sure this would gain any traction considering people already have similar religions except that they have a God and idolatry is important in our culture you know

You: yes, it is sad... I guess I will jut have to be alone then :c

You: but I have my faith!

You: I guess there just won't be many others...

Stranger: when you say something about faith I always think of crusades really even though that isnt even remotely what you mean

You: hmm?

You: what I mean by faith is believing in something even when there is no evidence to suggest you should believe in it

You: for instance, there is no reason you should believe that your neighbor will not steal from you

You: but faith is trusting that they will not

Stranger: yeah but I mean when you say the first that come to mind "religious fanaticisism, the defender of the faith status, the conquest of "divine" fiefs"

You: lol ^^

Stranger: say that*

You: I guess I just ended up defining faith for myself somehow I guess

Stranger: Its just because the idea of fighting for faith is quite common

Stranger: oh nvm

Stranger: my mind perverts everything

You: huh?

Stranger: Just never mind

You: oh okay

Stranger: Sorry

You: hm? why are you sorry?

You: you have nothing to be sorry about

Stranger: Yeah right

Stranger: so yeah I like the crusades ofc did you know that the first crusade was the only successful crusaaade

You: I didn't know!

Stranger: wait I think I got carried away with all these crusades

You: although I think it depends on your side

Stranger: I mean there never were any "muslim crusades"

Stranger: they use a different term

You: but I mean the all attacke jerusalem?

You: *they all

You: at different points in history

Stranger: Well yes

Stranger: the holy land right

You: yup

Stranger: but actually Judea has always been plagued with bloodshed

Stranger: when Hadrian was Roman emperor Jews rebelled against Roman rule and commited genocide against Romans

Stranger: based on religion

You: killing is mean

Stranger: you can see similar stuff happening nowadays

Stranger: its effectively the most restless spot in the world

You: mhm

You: although sometimes I wonder how it compares to Sudan

Stranger: what about it?

You: idk if the palestinian area is worse, or if it's a matter of we just pay more attention to it

You: or if there are also places elsewhere in the world that are worse/very bad

Stranger: well the conflict there has been around for a long time and its an ethno religious conflict thats why we pay so much attention to it

Stranger: and also Israel may possess nuclear weapons

Stranger: which is also why some people are concerned about the current situation in the middle east

Stranger: oh and also Trump supports Israel which is also why some people are ever more concerned about Israel

You: hmm

Stranger: and also the jews are considered one of the most oppressed people on Earth

Stranger: oh wtf am I saying

You: hm?

Stranger: no nvm

Stranger: Sorry

You: okay

Stranger: But again Hadrian banned the Torah law

Stranger: and

Stranger: many jews were sold into slavery

Stranger: and they were banned from practicing their religion

Stranger: oh I like Hadrian so much

Stranger: He did so much good for Rome

You: I just feel like I only know the wall that's named after him

Stranger: and the city

Stranger: Adrionople

You: hadrian... remove the H?

Stranger: In some languages H is silent thats why

You: oh okay

Stranger: its quite weak in English as well

Stranger: in French it doesnt exist at all

Stranger: although its still used in writing because the spelling is a mess

You: language can get weird

Stranger: well yes especially if its Germanized vulgar latin that borrowed lots of frankish vocabularly from an old dutch superstrate

You: I guess a lot of people migrated and moved around ^^

Stranger: Yeah obviously thats how the salic franks came to rule over Gaul

Stranger: OH AND they wrote the salic law

Stranger: they wrote the salic law

Stranger: !!!

Stranger: they wrote the salic law

You: you sound really excited ^^

Stranger: No its actually very important the salic law caused at least 3 wars

You: oh wow

Stranger: why....why history???

You: did you just read something new?

Stranger: no really

Stranger: why did you tag history

You: I forgot to remove the tag since I just wanted to learn about the balkans

Stranger: do you generally talk about history

You: hmm I talk about anything really

Stranger: oh where are you from?

You: us east

Stranger: Pensylvania?

You: nope!

You: that's pretty specific

Stranger: Constantinople?

You: even more specific lol

Stranger: Virginia?

Stranger: see I am good at geography

You: constantinople, idk if there's a us city of that name

Stranger: well I didnt mean it in a serious way

Stranger: are you from Virginia?

You: nope

Stranger: Washington?

You: I feel like I should stop answering because you will guess it eventually lol ^^

Stranger: did I guess it though?

You: I plead the fifth!

Stranger: Oh but you should definitely rename your hometown Constantinople because it sounds more Christian than anything

You: well there are a bunch of places with strange names

Stranger: Trumpoletania?

You: is that an actual place?

Stranger: no just my imagination and alternative present

You: Maybe in 100 years

You: and they continue to name avenues after US presidents

Stranger: i

Stranger: do

Stranger: la

Stranger: try

You: lol

Stranger: even those that owned slaves?

You: are you protestant or is this a modern revulsion of idolatry?

You: they all owned slaves

You: this is america

Stranger: well the presidents that held the position before the civil war did

You: yes and most of the streets named after presidents are usually after the "founding fathers"

Stranger: well thats still idolatry

You: is idolatry bad in your moral-ethical compass of things?

Stranger: and those people didnt embody all the things that the modern day US claims to embody

Stranger: No not necessarily

You: oh okay, I'm just curious

You: because all forms of commemoration can be interpreted as a kind of idolatry

You: well, frankly its in the eyes of the beholder

Stranger: well when you have a large statue of Stalin in front of your house then its obviously idolatry

Stranger: and I do want a statue like that

Stranger: to idolize the greatest leader of the USSR

Stranger: see I dont see idolatry as necessarily bad

You: mhm but it's different depending on if you commissioned the statue or if someone else visits your statue 100 years in the future

You: the meaning can change in the eyes of the beholder

Stranger: well the only difference is how many people are affected by the cult of personality

You: fair enough

Stranger: I think in the US there should be a few statues of Stalin

Stranger: privately owned ones at least

You: lol

You: I'm not always sure why I understand people idolize people

Stranger: why are you so alien

You: because I clearly can't speak english

You: ^^;;;;

You: how is it possible to type something and have the words come out all in the wrong order?

Stranger: just like any other human you should understand why people idolize other people and elevate them above others

Stranger: dyslexia

You: are there more people that you idolize?

Stranger: Lenin,Marx,Ernst Thalmann,Niccolo Machiavelli, Pinochet and Mussolini

You: that's such a nice spread

Stranger: oh wait no

Stranger: I dont like Machiavelli Pinochet or Mussolini

You: oh that's too bad

Stranger: why

You: idk, it's good to like a diversity of things I think

Stranger: it depends actually

Stranger: is the world diverse?

You: diversity is a strange word and I don't know how to process it

Stranger: Mussolini could process it easily

You: ^^

Stranger: shut up

You: :c

Stranger: is the world diverse

Stranger: answer me or face my wrath

You: umm... yes...?

Stranger: do multiculturalism and small religious cult based on the concept of love towards your neighbor run by mentally ill people make it more diverse?

Stranger: cults*

You: hmm maybe?

You: I think it is a bit abstract to quantify diversity

Stranger: I think it's a bit abstract to quantify numbers

You: lol ^^

Stranger: you cant counter my statement

You: of course

Stranger: you lose

You: it's okay, I think it can be fun to lose sometimes

Stranger: thats an overromanticized idea created to make up for the horrors of losing

You: mhm the way I would analyze it is probably as a reactionary sentiment towards the competitiveness of modern culture?

Stranger: competitiveness of modern culture? what do you mean by modern culture?popular culture?

You: mhm gaming pops into my mind immediately

You: or the set of sentiments related to that kind of competitiveness for fun

Stranger: well this is unrelated to what we were discussing a few minutes ago though and is merely part of some cultures

Stranger: not all of them ofc

You: yup, it's unrelated

Stranger: are you irrelevant

You: sorry!

Stranger: thats a genuine question

You: oh I read it backwards lol

You: "you are irrelevant" lol

Stranger: seems like you are used to insults

You: mhm probably~

Stranger: but, are you irrelevant?

You: I think it depends on your frame of reference?

You: I suppose I must be relevant to myself

You: I have no idea if I'm relevant to others though

Stranger: Okay let me put it this way. Why do your parents consider you to be irrelevant?

You: hopefully not!

Stranger: but they do

Stranger: that's a well-known fact

You: okay go on

Stranger: No that's all I've got to say about your irrelevant now tell me, why do your parents deem you irrelevant

Stranger: irrelevance

You: um, apparently this is news to me, so I was hoping you could explain

You: that said, it's really hard for me to know what other people think

You: because um, I'm not them

Stranger: harness the power of lightning and use it to develop an ability to read human minds

You: is that a reference towards electricity and.... idk what technology

Stranger: Perhaps

You: I dunno, I don't know a lot of things

Stranger: that's true

Stranger: you know very few things

You: yup

Stranger: But it's perfectly okay to be ignorant

Stranger: I know a lot of ignorant people

Stranger: who I am very good friends with

You: okay

Stranger: you're ignorant.

You: I don't really mind that much tbh

Stranger: you are ignorant

You: mhm

Stranger: you are ignorant

You: why are you repeating it?

Stranger: you are doomed to be ignorant forever

You: I don't really see ignorance as an absolute though?

Stranger: because I've been told that psychological abuse works like this

Stranger: well I deal in absolutes.

You: oh, were you experimenting with something?

Stranger: Yeah, with neo-absolutism and its psychological basis

You: I'm not totally sure how to reconcile that statement

Stranger: The gracchi brothers tried to reconcile the senate and the roman people after an inflow of unpaid slave labor and cheap grain bankrupted the small farmers

Stranger: But to no avail

Stranger: disgruntled senators assassinated the gracchi brothers and thousands of their allies

You: that's a bit sad

Stranger: yep just like your life

You: I'm quite happy with my life actually

Stranger: you arent

You: hm? how so?

Stranger: You are constantly told that you're a failure

You: I was wondering why you changed the topic to "why your dad beats you" earlier?

Stranger: Oh I was trying to help you with your family problems

You: oh, I don't live with my parents though

Stranger: why not

Stranger: you should leech off your parents

You: idk because I don't need to?

Stranger: why not??

Stranger: you can ask your parents to subsidize Malta

You: I dunno, I don't need to

You: I wonder why I don't do things I don't need to do

Stranger: why dont you want Malta subsidized

You: because I am selfish

Stranger: what's the etymology of the word selfish?

You: self-ish?

You: sell-fish?

Stranger: in the past the self part meant "I" (similar to the greek word ego) so in Old English they said "ic self" in middle english it came to mean "a person who has no identity"

Stranger: and I think when you say selfish

Stranger: you mean that you have no identity

Stranger: that somebody has stripped you of your identity

You: okay, I can live with that I guess

Stranger: and now you're lost,trying to make your life meaningful

Stranger: but decades of degeneratation have affected you

Stranger: what creates degeneracy?

You: I dunno~

Stranger: you're not smart :/

You: I thought we established that earlier?

Stranger: we didnt

Stranger: you're not smart :////

You: lol okay

You: I wonder what creates degeneracy

Stranger: keep wondering

Stranger: perhaps one day you will find your answers

You: mhm okay ^^

Stranger: you aren't smart

You: yup

Stranger: you aren't smart

You: you really like the repeating thing

Stranger: its really interesting that when you had to choose between shame and arguing you chose shame you know I am a psychology graduate(graduated 2 years ago) and this is actually a sign of a weak personality

You: ohh that's really cool!

You: also congrats

You: I don't mind having a weak personality

Stranger: you're a weakling

You: lol

Stranger: look at yourself

You: I think you are probably affirming a component of my identity?

Stranger: you cant even lift a table

You: maybe that is why you are not getting as much of a reaction?

Stranger: of a reaction?

Stranger: this is a bit out of place

You: hm?

Stranger: I am trying to help you with your mental problems

You: oh okay

You: I thought you were repeating because you were expecting me to say something different

Stranger: that too since this would give me some info about your retention character

You: (retention character, meaning...?)

Stranger: google it, I wont tell you since I realize that you must learn to find all sorts of helpful information on your own

You: I feel like I am not heading in the right direction with googling "retention character"

Stranger: wanna know why I chose that term?

You: why?

Stranger: Its probably the least popular term outlined in the book "the interpretation of dreams" by Sigmund Freud and I am well aware that it doesnt have a wikipedia page so you'll have to skim over the book and maybe you'll find it there

You: oh okay

Stranger: you must learn that sometimes its very hard to acquire useful information

You: I guess so

Stranger: I am beginning to think that you have trouble learning

Stranger: not dyslexia but something different

You: mhm can you elaborate more?

Stranger: No. You have to process my ever word and muster all of your brain power to get your answers

You: aww, I would appreciate it if you just said it ^^

Stranger: No. You must learn how hard it is to obtain information

Stranger: I am trying to help you.

Stranger: stop resisting

You: Okay, I'm a bit lazy though

You: or maybe I am lazy today

Stranger: thats the problem

You: I am unclear about how I am resisting

Stranger: you are always lazy

You: okay that is probably true too

Stranger: ignorant, lazy and pitiful

You: I dunno about pitiful

Stranger: I feel sad for you

You: although I guess from an external party I guess that is possible

You: it's okay you don't need to feel sad

You: I'm quite happy

Stranger: you aren't

Stranger: stop lying

You: I try very hard not to lie

Stranger: the biggest lie I've heard from you so far

You: hm?

Stranger: is you say

Stranger: ing

Stranger: that

Stranger: you try very hard not to lie

Stranger: an ignorant

Stranger: lazy

Stranger: liar

You: okay, I'm not totally sure if I am following

Stranger: its okay

You: but if you think that way it's fine too ^^

Stranger: wait I think I know why you disgust some people

Stranger: especially your parents

You: go on

Stranger: you are ignorant and lie too much

You: mhm I'm a little bit unsure how people can tell what are lies though

You: but yes I am ignorant

Stranger: some can some cant

Stranger: I can

You: okay that's pretty nice intuition

Stranger: not intuition you dumb fucker

You: hm? what then?

Stranger: you've got be more careful about what you say

Stranger: because about 70% of what you say is gibberish

You: oh... I'm sorry then

You: I guess I should try to be clearer?

Stranger: you say intuition when its the critical method

You: ah okay

Stranger: No you should stop speaking. At all

You: I didn't know

Stranger: for about a month

Stranger: and then start speaking again

You: I don't really want to do that

Stranger: but in a more reserved manner

You: how do I speak more reserved?

Stranger: First of all throw words that you most commonly use away they are the worst and they make you sound dumb and ignorant so dont say nihilism (this is what you say in almost every situation) dont say unsure because this makes you sound uncertain and thus weak and silly

You: is it bad to sound weak/uncertain?

Stranger: it isnt bad to sound uncertain when its justified

Stranger: but you're literally both dumb and uncertain

You: mhm, but I don't really understand why strength is valued as a virtue

Stranger: It isnt valued as a virtue you moron

Stranger: you seek opposites

You: huh?

Stranger: thats a retarded way of thinking

You: can you explain more?

Stranger: "can you explaim more" is the backbone of your everyday vocabularly

Stranger: throw it away

You: mhm but I don't always understand things, and it would be helpful if people clarified their statement

Stranger: you never seek answers. you want others to find them for you

Stranger: thats why you're so dumb by the way

Stranger: so get rid of it

Stranger: you dont need that phrase

Stranger: imbecile

You: is the a better way to ask for feedback?

Stranger: You dont need feedback at all. Forget about feedback. You should never request feedback

You: mhm why?

Stranger: "why" get rid of this

You: I feel like it is hard to justify doing something unless you know the reason

Stranger: another rule you should apply

Stranger: Dont argue with people who are much better than you

You: I didn't realize I was arguing you though...

You: I thought I was just asking for an explanation

Stranger: I told you to get rid of "why" in your speech and you tried to justify using why

You: ah okay

Stranger: throwing arguments at the interlocutor creates an argument

Stranger: fool

You: I don't really feel like doing the things you are suggesting though

Stranger: buffoon

You: I'm sorry if it seems disrepectful

Stranger: clown

You: I feel like clowns are kind of scary actually

You: I don't really understand why they are invited to birthday parties

Stranger: your behavior is that of a clown

Stranger: but it isnt scary

You: hmm, clowns are for generating entertainment and laughter?

Stranger: yep thats why you usually try to but it doesnt really make you seem funny when you're required to hold a proper conversation

You: sorry

Stranger: try to do

Stranger: idiot

Stranger: shame on you

Stranger: shamee

You: I don't understand shame in all of its aspects actually

Stranger: Shame

Stranger: on you

You: is the meaning of that phrase that I should feel shame, even though I don't?

Stranger: shame on you

You: ^^ okay

Stranger: clown

You: you seem to be very patient

Stranger: you've gone so boring...

You: sorry

You: I think I just have difficulty understanding you

You: I'm not always sure when you are being sincere vs. just having fun

Stranger: are you going to bring something interesting into the convo

You: umm I'm not sure I know what you consider to be interesting

You: I can guess at things

You: also is it late for you?

You: sorry if I've kept you up

You: I know I took a lot of your time

Stranger: lol I wouldnt damage my sleep pattern because of people like you

You: okay that's good ^^

Stranger: the only reason Ive been talking to you is boredom but as I already mentioned you've become very very boring

Stranger: so I have to wish you a happy life and say goodbye

You: sorry

You: okay you too

You: I wish you the best

Stranger: byeeeeeeeeeeee

Stranger has disconnected.

#omegle #history #religion #roman history #cults #jerusalem #crusade #ignorance #mental illness #faith #I was acting a bit silly here and this conversation was very strange

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secretlythoughtfulfestival · 7 years ago

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thoughtfulcherryblossomllam-blog · 7 years ago

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justauthoring · 5 years ago

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Twist of Events [H.S.]

Request: Frat boy Harry likes a shy girl, but is mean to her at parties bc he’s keeping up his popularity and fuck boy / frat boy status, but eventually he realizes he’s being stupid and gets all sweet and soft with her ❤️

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader Word Count: 3,212 Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Notes: I will be writing a second part to “Just A Fantasy” but I really needed to get this out of my system. So, enjoy.

“So...”

Quirking a brow at the sound of your best friend, you tilt your head up curiously as she leans against the frame of your open door, arms crossed over her chest. There’s a mischievous grin on her face and instantly, the thought that something’s up crosses your mind.

But, you give her the benefit of the doubt.

“So,” you repeat, shutting your textbook and pushing it off your lap onto your bed. “What’s up?”

She hesitates a moment, as if nervous and your suspicion raises considerably. Your best friend is never one to hesitate, especially when it comes to you. She usually doesn’t even asks when she wants something, which means whatever she does want directly involves you. And those scenarios never really end well; for you at least.

“There’s a party tonight...--”

Ah. It clicked.

“Okay,” you shrug, “I’d just finished up my homework anyways so I can... Why are you wincing?”

“It’s at you-know-who’s place...”

Harry’s. You most certainly do not like Harry.

“Well, have fun then.”

Your best friends shoulders instantly fall and she runs over to you, collapsing onto your bed in defeat. “Come on, Y/N! Please!” She begs, her voice sickly sweet as she pouts up at you. “You never leave your room anymore and I miss you!”

“If you miss me,” you say simply, pointing a finger at her, “we can just go out you and I.”

“But I wanna go to a party!”

“And I don’t one to go to one of his.”

She huffs. “You’ve been to party’s where he’s been there before. Why is it such a big deal?”

“Because,” you start slowly, shaking your head. “It’s his party, this time. I’ll be surrounded by everything that is... him. There’ll be no escaping him. And I do not want to see him.”

Never failing her pout, your best friend sighs. “I get that he can be particularly mean--”

“More like cruel.” You correct, “it’s like he gets joy out of torturing me.”

She pauses, her head probably spinning a mile per minute to see how she can convince you to come. You simply watch, moving to grab your phone to entertain yourself. It clearly was going to be a boring night, so maybe you could start watching a new show or something.

“I won’t leave your side.”

You laugh, “you say that every time. And then somehow, you’re always in Niall’s arms by the end of the night.”

“He’s cute!” You friend defends, her lips parting at your sly comment and smirk.

“I can tell.”

“Please, Y/N,” she begs, her voice pleading as she blinks up at you through her lashes. “I need to get drunk, you need to get drunk, and I know you’ve been dying to wear that dress you impulsively bought a month ago. You never go out, so tonight’s the perfect excuse to wear it.”

You frown, your eyes instinctively glancing at your closet where the dress hangs proudly, begging to be worn.

“I can see you’re thinking about it!” Your friend grins wide, teeth shining as she blinks innocently at you, eyes twinkling.

“I don’t like going out.”

“You’ll have fun.”

“I’m socially awkward.”

“Once you’re drunk, you’ll be fine.”

“We leave the minute my torture inevitably begins.”

“Yay!” Almost instantly, she’s on her feet, engulfing you in a tight hug. She pulls you up to your own feet along the way, jostling you around as she squeals excitedly in your arms. “I promise you you’ll have fun tonight,” she gushes, pulling back from the hug. “Now, we have to start getting ready. I’ll help you with your makeup.”

“I don’t need makeup.”

“Just sit down.”

You were not having fun.

Jenny left you the second the familiar head of a certain blonde head appeared and from your spot against the wall, you could see the two of them grinding against each other on the dance floor. Leaving you utterly and completely alone.

Your dress felt definitely far too short and you were constantly tugging it downwards. You’d failed to get drunk, mainly because you didn’t really want to, but without alcohol in your system, you most definitely did not have the courage to go up and talk to anyone. It’s why you didn’t do parties. You were too socially inept for them, and didn’t really know anyone besides Jenny.

No one really knew you existed.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Somehow, in your world of being incredibly quiet and never really saying much, you’d manage to catch the attention of one Harry Styles. You’re not exactly sure how, but the arguably most popular guy at your school seemed to not find you invisible.

However, the attention was anything but good.

You were terrified of running into him. The guy oozed confidence and cockiness and you always felt incredibly small when stood in front of him. He made you feel, for lack of a better word, like a loser. And without the confidence alcohol provided or the support of your best friend, you knew running into him would be the absolute worst thing that could happen to you.

So, that’s probably why you did.

You were wandering around aimlessly, trying to find a bathroom, when a shoulder bumped into your own aggressively. The force of it sent you stumbling back a few steps and if it hadn’t been for the narrow hall and the wall behind you, you’re sure you would’ve ended up falling into someone. You mentally thanked the wall for saving you from further embarrassment.

When you turn, it’s obviously Harry who’d bumped into you and you’re not surprised by the scowl that settles itself on his lips as he takes you in. Though, you also don’t miss the way his eyes seem to drift across your entire self, from feet to your eyes before the scowl settles and it irks you as odd but you don’t really comment on it.

“I don’t remember inviting you.”

Biting your lip, you swallow thickly; “i’m sure you don’t remember inviting a lot of people here.”

“But I specifically didn’t invite you.”

Huffing, you try to ignore the way you feel like curling into yourself at his heavy gaze and square your shoulders for mock confidence. “Whatever, Harry. I just need the bathroom and then i’ll be on my way.”

He falters, even if just slightly, and his lips part but before he can say anything another figure ends up running right into you. This time, it’s the full force of something crashing into you and the uncomfortable feeling of something cold cascading down the front of your dress, causing you to shiver in response. Your lips part as the girl who’d walked into you backs up, revealing the now bright right stain on your brand-new white dress you’d been so excited to wear.

Not to mention, your black bra that starts to peek underneath as your dress soaks.

Instantly, your hands move to cover your chest, letting out a shrill cry of “what the hell” as the girl laughs, falling comfortably next to Harry’s side.

You should’ve known he’d have something to do with this.

Cheeks flushed a bright red, you stumble back, desperate to get away. You felt like a complete idiot and cursed yourself for letting Jenny convince you to come when you knew all along it’d only end in your embarrassment. Normally, it was just Harry talking down to you, making you feel as worthless as you knew you were. But tonight it was an entirely different level of embarrassment and your feet are carrying you faster then you’re even thinking and somehow, you’re not really sure, you manage to find yourself in a bathroom.

You lock the door shut behind you, leaning against the counter with huff as you feel your eyes burn in embarrassment.

Stop crying. Stop... don’t cry. That means they’ve won.

But you know they already have.

Wiping harshly at your cheeks, you don’t dare to glance at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, moving to grab your phone and text Jenny. You’d hope she’d answer and grab your sweater she’d force you to leave in her car and then maybe, you’d convince her to let you leave if she saw the state you were in.

But, as you instinctively move to grab your purse from your purse, you realize, your purse isn’t there.

Panic settling, you glance around at the floor of the bathroom, trying to see if you’d dropped it somewhere along the way in a flurry of embarrassment. But it’s no where to be seen. With a sigh of defeat, as more tears well in your eyes, you realize you must’ve dropped it somewhere along the way. Now, you couldn’t just go home and you’d have to go searching for your phone, wallet and everything else valuable in your stained and see-through brand new dress.

A known pulls you out of your thoughts.

“It’s occupied!”

“It’s, uh... It’s Harry,” Your brows furrow, body stilling as your eyes slowly slide over to the bathroom door, your chest tightening in worry. “I... I have your purse, You dropped it, um, when that girl bumped--”

You pull the door open, cowering behind the door as you reach your hand out expectantly, waiting for Harry to give it to you. He just stares at you.

“You brought it all the way here,” you mumble, sniffling despite yourself. “Are you really going to continue--”

“Here, here,” he drops the strap of the purse in your hand and with that, you move to shut the door. But Harry steps forward, pressing his hand against the door, effectively stopping you. You blink, brows furrowing as you turn to him in disbelief.

“Listen, as much as i’d love to hear you insult me more, i’m really not in the mood right now, Harry. And i’d really just like to go home which is exactly what you wanted anyways, so can you just--”

“Are you okay?”

Okay, what?

Harry scrambles to continue, shaking his head as he uses your surprise to walk into the bathroom completely and shut it behind you. You’re too shocked to even try and cover yourself. “I didn’t know she was going to do that, honest. And, I... I would’ve stopped her if I had.”

“Cause you’re the only one whose allowed to humiliate me?”

“What?” He blinks, voice sharp. “No, no, it’s just... I don’t know, I feel like that was worse, somehow... And i’m just sorry.”

“You humiliate me fine on your own, Harry. No need to worry about that.”

“No, that’s not what i’m trying to say.” You blink as Harry lets out a huff of frustration, running his hands over his face. Your tears are left forgotten, staining on your cheeks as you blink up at the boy in absolute bewilderment.

Where had this sudden change of heart come from?

“I’m not trying to-to embarrass you or-or make sure i’m the best at it-- whatever, that doesn’t matter.” He pauses, turning to you with the softest, gentlest expression you’ve ever seen on the boy; let alone just towards you. And it shocks you completely and so deeply that you’re not sure how to respond whatsoever and you’re just completely stunned for words as you blink at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you shake your head, “I just want to go home and get out of this ruined new dress--”

“I can buy you a new one if you’d like.”

“I don’t need your charity, Harry,” you snap, anger flooding you at his words. Who the hell did he think he was? “Not because you suddenly feel remorse for being an actual dick to me since we’ve met.” Huffing, you square your shoulders, pushing him back a little. “Now, will you just leave? I don’t need your help, okay?”

“But--”

“Just leave.”

He hesitates a moment longer, before abiding.

Jenny, luckily, answers on the third ring.

“Watch it.”

Sighing, you chose not to retort, simply continuing on your path out of class and ignoring the rather rude classmate that had just run directly into you.

However, it seems someone else falls to ignore it.

“Hey!” Blinking, you halt at his voice, sharply turning your head over your shoulder in bafflement. Harry runs straight up to the guy who’d walked into you, and you’re pretty sure they’re even on the same soccer team, but that doesn’t really matter.

Eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, Harry shoves the boy back; “you bumped into her.”

“What the hell, Styles? Since when--”

“Just apologize to her.”

Eyes widening, you jerk your head back in surprise, the thought of food that had completely been your focus fading at the sight of Harry Styles standing up for you.

“I’m not gonna apologize to her,” the boy huffs, laughing as if his teammate was joking with him. “And you’re one to talk, Styles. I’m pretty sure everyone here knows how much you hate her.”

There’s murmurs of agreement and you blink.

“I don’t hate her,” Harry brushes the comment off with a huff. “Just apologize to her.”

“He doesn’t--”

“Stay out of it, Y/N.” You blink at the sharp look he sends you, silently warning you to stay put.

What the hell?

“I already told you i’m not going--”

You snap out of your shock when Harry sends a right hook into the boys cheeks. Instantly, you rush forward, whether stupidly or not, and with an act of bravery grab onto Harry’s arm, tugging him back. He fights your grip but you manage to pull him away enough to step in front of him and smile warily up at the teammate he’d just assaulted. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” you assure, shaking your head before things get worse. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s fine. I’m sorry.”

The boy smirks at you. satisfied at your apology and you have to tighten your grip on Harry considerably not to have him lash out again.

When the boy’s gone, you aggressively tug Harry aside, into the nearest empty classroom, slamming the door shut behind you to avoid wandering gazes and eavesdroppers. “What the hell was that, Harry?”

“He walked into you!” Harry defends himself, as if that’s an actual defense. “And why the fuck did you apologize? He--”

“To stop you from getting hurt!” You interrupt without real thought. Blinking at what you’d said, you step back, shaking your head. “Either of you... that was reckless and stupid. And to be honest with you, you’ve bumped into me plenty of times, Harry. You did last night. So--”

“That was...” Harry’s voice trails, not sure what to say.

You just shake your head. “Now that I mention it, you’ve been... weird lately. And I don’t know if this is some sort of prank--”

“--It’s not--”

“But just... either go back to your old ways or just leave me alone, Harry.” Taking a step back, you move towards the door, choosing to ignore the dejected expression on Harry’s face at your words. “Because I don’t really want any part of whatever this is.”

“It’s not--”

You walk out and shut the door before he can finish his words.

“So,” Jenny starts, opening your door and walking towards you, “care to explain to me why there’s a bouquet of flowers left outside our dorm room addressed to you?”

She hands you the bouquet and you take it with furrowed brows and parted lips, shaking your head.

“What--” You halt, catching sight of the card left. Setting the bouquet down on your desk, you open the tiny card, shoulders falling when you read what’s inscribed in tiny, messy writing.

Let me explain everything. H.

He also left his phone number.

“Whose it from?”

“Harry.”

Jenny blinks. Once. Twice. Then, “what?”

“Yeah,” you meet her eyes with a nod.

“Either, we’re in a entirely different universe or you’ve failed to tell me something.”

Needless to say, you tell her everything. You tell her about the party, you tell her about the day after and you tell her about the fact that despite your words, the days that followed, Harry hadn’t really stopped whatever game it was he was playing. He hadn’t directly spoke to you, but, suddenly, you seemed a whole lot less invisible because his gaze was always on you. You hadn’t been pushed or shoved around like you normally were and people actually sought you out to talk to you.

It was completely insane.

“Are you gonna text him?”

“I don’t know,” you gnaw on your bottom lip, “should I?”

Without hesitation, eyes gleaming, she nods; “yes.”

“I knew you’d say that,” you sigh, eyeing the number. “But, still, I should ask, why?”

“Because... he could be madly, secretly in love with you.” You raise a brow, unimpressed. “It’s not that impossible,” she defends herself with a scoff. “And, you try to deny it, but you like him too.”

“I like the boy whose bullied me since we’ve met?”

“Why else would you have gone to that party a few days ago?”

Pausing, you realize she’s right. Directly or indirectly, consciously or unconsciously, you’d gone to that party in hopes of seeing Harry. In hopes that maybe, something would change in his attitude towards you. And, it seemed like it had.

“Okay,” you give in, “i’ll text him.”

Somehow, Jenny was right.

Maybe, he wasn’t in love with you. That was reaching. But... he certainly, apparently, felt something for you.

“I know it doesn’t explain it or excuse it...”

“Yeah,” you nod, “it really doesn’t.”

“I am sorry.”

Pausing, you bite your bottom lip, eyes wandering across Harry whose sat in front of you. “It’s so stupid,” you huff, not really knowing what else to say or how else to express yourself. “You’ve been a total dick to me this entire time just to hide the fact that you liked me because I wasn’t popular?”

Harry just frowns.

“You’re so stupid.”

“I know.”

“And you’re a fucking jerk.”

“I am.”

“And for some reason, I like you too.”

Harry blinks, once, twice, shock flooding his system before his eyes light up with hope. “You do?”

Sinking back against your seat, you nod. “Yeah,” you breathe, “somehow, I do. I must be pretty messed up, liking the guy who bullied me.”

“Not as messed up as I am for bullying the girl I liked.”

Your lips curve, just slightly, at that; heart fluttering.

Harry reaches across the table, shocking you by taking his hand in your own and squeezing it. “I really am sorry, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I really--”

“It’s okay,” you smile softly, squeezing his hand in return. “I understand.”

Harry nods, slowly at first, then, he decides to test the waters a little; “so...--”

“You’ll have to prove to me,” you shrug, simply stating the words as is. “Take me on dates, earn my trust. I’m still not sure this isn’t just one big elaborate prank.”

“It isn’t,” he says without hesitation, “I promise.”

“Then, prove it.”

He sits up, leaning forward, “tomorrow, are you free?”

Biting your lip, you nod, smiling softly.

“Okay, i’ll take you out on a date. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

“I better not.”

But somehow, you knew you wouldn’t.

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#One Direction #One Direction imagine #One Direction x reader #1D #1D imagine #Harry #Harry Styles #Harry Styles imagine #Harry Styles x reader #Harry imagine #Harry x reader #imagine #imagines #my fics

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