#which were all completely factual. no i didn’t go to that school. no i’m not the same age as your daughter. no i’m not friends with your | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

edactually · 2 years ago

Text

Stede POV - 3.3

By the time Ed came downstairs he was (thankfully) dressed which Stede was grateful (sad) about. At least he got the fun of catching Ed off his guard this time as the man walked into his kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks with wide eyes.

“Fuck, Stede. When you said you were whipping something up, I thought you meant toast.”

What Stede had actually done was laid out a whole breakfast buffet on the kitchen island. He’d been rushing to get it done before Ed came downstairs, so it wasn’t his best work, but there were plenty of options - a pitcher of orange juice, a large bowl of fresh fruit (which he would have cut into little shapes like stars or flowers if he’d had time but instead it was just diced normally), a stack of pancakes that rivalled the leaning tower of Pisa, a pot of freshly brewed coffee, a tray of bacon, a tray of eggs (fried and scrambled) and he was in the process of lining the aforementioned toast up in a little toast rack right now.

“I didn’t know what you’d like best, so I just made a bit of everything.” He started rummaging through a cupboard as an excuse to hide his pleased smile, then turned back to face Ed with a completely nonchalant face and a bottle of maple syrup in hand.

“Stede, this is too much, man.”

And he tried to hide it, but he knew his face crumpled.

Of course it was too much. Stede was always too much. Always too extravagant, always overthinking, always overdoing it.

Ed pulled up one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and Stede didn’t look at his expression as he set the syrup down. He didn’t want to see Ed being irritated with him. “I’m sorry. You’re my first overnight guest in this house, I just got carried away.”

His hand was still around the syrup bottle and Ed clasped his wrist before he could take it away. “Hey.”

Ed’s voice was gentle, and Stede dared a look at his face to see Ed’s eyes shining and his lips curled into a smile. “Don’t apologise. I just don’t know where to start, that’s all. This is five star service from Bonnet’s Bed and Breakfast.”

And Ed was teasing him again, but it wasn’t malicious, not like the bullying he’d suffered at boarding school. This was just playful ribbing between friends. “Think I might need to work on the bed part of that, since you slept on the couch and all.”

“Hmm, good point. Maybe I’ll deduct a star from my review.” He let go of Stede’s wrist and he tried not to feel forlorn about it as Ed reached for the coffee pot. “Then again, not many B&B hosts let you cuddle them until you fall asleep, so nope. Adding that star back on - five star service, says one Edward Teach.”

Another little gold nugget of information about him, dropped so casually into conversation. Stede tried to suppress his delight. “Is that your full name, Edward Teach?”

He passed an empty plate over and Ed began to load it up with pancakes. “Yep. Edward Teach, born on a beach.” He squirted enough maple syrup over his pancakes to drown in and then reached for the fruit bowl, whether to add extra sweetness or pretend he was being healthy, Stede couldn’t decide.

“Were you really born on a beach?”

“Nah, it’s just fun to say. Like Stede Bonnet, born on a comet.”

“Comet doesn’t rhyme with Bonnet.”

“Does so.”

“Does not.”

“I’m sorry, do you have awards for writing lyrics? Think I know what rhymes.”

“Clearly those awards should be taken off you.”

“You do better then.”

Stede mulled on it for a moment, ignoring Ed’s smug expression when he didn’t immediately pluck a better rhyme out of thin air. He was piling his own plate with toast and bacon when one came to him. “Bonnet, Stede, knows how to feed.”

“Ohhh, that’s clever.” Ed pointed his fork at him. “A good rhyme, factual, and you flipped your name round to be all cool like James Bond. Excellent work. You should collaborate on QAR’s next album.”

Stede wasn’t used to getting compliments or bantering with someone like this. It was nothing like his banter with Lucius, which was mostly just him scolding the boy for not doing his job and Lucius finding inventive ways to call him old. This back and forth with Ed felt easy, fun, and he was pleased as punch that his silly little rhyme had impressed him.

“As long as I get the royalties, you can take the credit for my lyrics.”

“No deal, Mr. Bonnet. We need to give you credit, otherwise the fans will be suspicious that the new songs aren’t the same tired drivel they lap up time and time again.”

Ed was still joking, but there was a bitter undercurrent to his words. He was tired of the same old stuff that the band was churning out, he’d said as much in the dressing room the other night, and Stede wanted to help but he didn’t know the first thing about the music industry. He could hardly barge in and suggest changes they could make, he hadn’t even known the band existed before the day of the concert.

“There’s nothing wrong with sticking to a tried and true method. Your songs are popular for a reason.”

“ My songs.” Ed scoffed. “We haven’t done an original song of mine in years. The one I sang to you is one of mine, but we always have to perform it to open every show because it’s such a crowd pleaser.”

Maybe a bit too crowd pleasing in Stede’s opinion. If Ed sang those lyrics directly to him again then he’d just land in a heap on the floor. The full force of Ed’s attention was definitely overwhelming.

“You should hear our latest single. We were supposed to debut it at the gig on Friday, but you know what happened there.” Ed pulled out his phone, scrolled through a few things and then set it down on the counter and pressed play. “Thiswas my song at one point. But like everything I write these days, Izzy gets hold of it and twists and shapes it to what he thinks the fans will want until there’s barely anything of mine left in it. A real song of Theseus conundrum.”

The song that was playing wasn’t bad, by any means. It wasn’t to Stede’s tastes, but not a lot of rock music was. It was the kind of song that would be playing on the car radio on his drive to work - generic, popular, would kill a few minutes in traffic.

He could see what Ed was talking about with the mass appeal. If something appealed to everyone, then did it really appeal to anyone? Music was art, it wasn’t supposed to be generic, it was supposed to divide opinion.

“I like it.” He lied.

Ed scowled. “Don’t bullshit me, Bonnet. Have you seen what it’s fucking called? Hands On Deck. Guess who came up with that title?”

Stede’s mouth twisted into a smile and a laugh bubbled up before he could stop it. “I haven’t met Mr. Izzy Hands yet, but he does not strike me as a subtle man.”

“No, he fucking isn’t.” Ed stopped the song and put his phone away to turn his attention back to stabbing the food on his plate, the clanking of metal against china a much more appealing sound than QAR’s latest release. “He said the fans would get a kick out of it. Said me singing ‘deck’ with my accent sounded like ‘dick’ and the fans would think we were being all rebellious releasing a song that sounds like I’m singing Hands On Dick. Turned my work into a fucking joke for his little cult.”

“Ah yes, the ‘baby girl’ fans? Lucius mentioned Izzy had a bit of an underground following of people calling him that.”

“Yeah, he puts on this whole persona of hating it, but I know he’s got a private account he uses to like all the fanart.”

Ed was still riled up and tore apart a piece of bacon with his teeth like he was imagining detaching Izzy’s head from his body.

It must hurt to put a whole song together only for someone to change everything that made it your own so it was more palatable to a general audience. “What was the original song about?”

He seemed pleased at the chance to discuss what the song had once been. “Originally, it was Captain’s On Deck. I’d been watching a lot of pirate movies. You know how they always have that scene of the pirates raiding some fancy ship and the captain is always dressed all smart with the little powdered wig and tricorn hat, and then the pirate captain is all rough sea-faring clothes and cutlass?”

Stede nodded.

“Well, these movies always have them in some stand-off of two captains warring for control over a ship, and it always seemed kinda homoerotic to me. One of them always ends up dead, but I thought it would be more fun for them to fall in love and agree to co-captain.”

Ed was getting more and more animated as he talked about it, and Stede was listening intently, the fork full of bacon on the way to his mouth forgotten.

“You should have heard the music I had for it, Stede. Rock mixed with a traditional sea shanty sound and a killer guitar solo. It was weird as fuck but I loved it.” He sighed wistfully, tracing patterns with his fork in a little puddle of maple syrup on his plate.

“It sounds amazing, Ed.” He wasn’t lying to spare his feelings. It sounded weird and wonderful, and very much the kind of song that young Stede Bonnet would have needed to hear when questioning his place in the world. How many other people needed a silly, fun song that focused on a queer love story? And they had been robbed of it by another run-of-the-mill song that was created just for sales and not for any real love of the art form. “I hope you get to release your version one day.”

And Ed’s frustration seemed to melt away, and he looked at Stede with watery eyes. “Really?”

“You’ve got one person guaranteed to listen and love it right here.”

“Fuck, man, you’re going to set me off again.”

Stede was more prepared for any crying this time. He produced the same red silk handkerchief from the left pocket of his pyjama bottoms that he’d offered Ed last night. His pyjama shirt had been last night’s choice for soaking up tears, but a proper handkerchief would be far better, in his opinion.

Ed looked at the red silk in his hand and instead of bursting into tears again as Stede had expected, he started to absolutelyhowl with laughter.

“What?” Stede looked at the handkerchief as if it held the answer to Ed’s amusement. “What are you laughing at?”

And there were tears in Ed’s eyes that he wiped away, but they were tears of laughter. “Nothing, nothing. Just didn’t realise you were into that.”

“Into what? I don’t understand?”

“You pulled a red hanky from your left pocket.” Ed raised an eyebrow, as if that indicated all Stede needed to know. When Stede just looked at him in confusion, he laughed again. “Do me a favour and look up the hanky code once I leave. Then you can text me and let me know if it’s true or not.”

Stede made a mental note to do as he said, but lingered on the last part of Ed’s sentence. “Text you?”

“Yeah.” Ed pulled out his phone again and set up a new contact, then handed it over for Stede to put his information in.

He just stared at the screen blankly. “Are you sure I should have your personal number?”

Ed looked bemused. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“But you’re famous! Famous people shouldn’t just give out their number to strangers.”

“That's correct, but I am giving my number to a friend, not a stranger. And I trust said friend not to go posting it online or sharing it with his other friends lest he find himself with an army of lawyers bearing down upon him for the betrayal.”

Stede was aghast. “I would never!”

“Good. I’m right in putting my trust in you then. Pop in your details.”

Stede handed the phone back and watched Ed raise an eyebrow at the formal manner in which he’d entered his details. He edited the name, but Stede couldn’t see what it was changed to as Ed quickly turned the phone around so he could only see the back and continued messing around with it.

A minute or so later, his own phone chimed and he had a whatsapp from Ed. He added him as a new contact in the same formal manner in which he’d entered his own details, added a little emoji just for fun (and maybe he had a promotional shot of Blackbeard saved in his photos to use as the contact image, but that was no one’s business), and the matter was settled.

First Post

#edactuallysmau

0 notes

thislovintime · 2 years ago

Photo

Peter Tork, 1965.

Q: “Actually, I was going to ask you about your career before [The Monkees].” Peter Tork: “Oh, I was a folk singer. Before that I was in school, and before that I was in the bosom of my family. I was in New York singing folk songs on the Greenwich Village stages.” Q: “How did you end up going out to California?” PT: “‘37 Chevy. Broke down outside of Las Vegas. When it started to belch brown water out of the tail pipe I knew it was all over. We hitch hiked the rest of the way. I had a lady friend waiting for me, I thought. Turned out I was far more threatening in the flesh than at a calm, safe distance, so that didn’t last long. But she connected me to with the Golden Bear Cafe in Huntington Beach, where I got a job washing dishes. I did some work accompanying Steve Stills when he was with Ron Long and the Buffalo Fish. I accompanied this black trio called the [Apollas], on the stand-up string bass.” - Goldmine, May 1982

“Like many ‘heads’ of the sixties, Tork's introduction to the spiritual plane was provided by LSD. ‘I brought some of those sugar cubes with me when I left New York in 1965,’ he recalled. ‘I'd heard that they deteriorate at room temperature, so I took two. Acid does not deteriorate at room temperature.’ His trip was virtually a classic of the genre. ‘I looked in the mirror and saw my mother. I dove out the front door yelling and hollering in Long Beach at two in the morning. I fell into a pumpkin patch and I had my first experience. I finally had a sense of there being a cosmic pattern. I didn't see God in the sense that Jesus came to me, or I saw a man with a beard in a chair high in the sky, but I did have a sense of a driving patterned force being the sum total of all the benevolent intelligences now or ever on the face of the earth.’ Ultimately, Tork came to feel that the acid experience was a limited one. ‘I mean, it opens you up to the possibilities of living beyond your ego, but after a while you come back down and the chemistry you had before the acid trip is largely restored; your ego comes back. I particularly relate to what Ram Dass said, which is that in the throes of acid he was egoless, but as he started to come down his ego walked back in the door and re-fused with his body. That's why he decided to go to India, so he could have the acid experience without having to go through the return trip. In India they had techniques that they'd been developing for years, that made it possible for one to go into a post-ego state.’ Tork's trip, in a larger sense, reflects that of many sixties seekers who opened up to the possibility of possibility, the magic of rock 'n' roll and the magic beyond. Some of them are still out there, having missed the flight back, either accidentally or by design. ‘It is said in a certain school of esoterica that when you first get the hint of it the mountains are no longer the mountains and the moon is no longer the moon,’ said Tork, as the afternoon sun went down and shadows slanted across his room. ‘But when you get past it and come out the other side, with some journeyman mastery, shall we say, the mountains are all mountains again and the moon is a moon. ‘I think I'm at that stage with my life. When I first got the awareness of the extramundane, things just became all holy and completely beyond rational understanding. It was the first flush of acid, the first social explosion of the hippie era. “Everything is everything” and “Wonderfulness is wonderfulness” absolutely swamped the factual reality of a chair. Chairs were no longer chairs; they were imbued with mystery and magic. Having lived with that and taken a few hard knocks on the basis of overdoing it, I've entered what I call the tertiary stage of things. The first stage is where things are what they are. You've got goals and dreams and hopes, but there's no magic. Then you find the magic and it's all magic and nothing is real. Now there is reality and there is magic; they're both real.’” - When The Music Mattered (1984)

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #1960s #1965 #60s Tork #The Monkees #Monkees #long read #<3 #When The Music Mattered #Goldmine Magazine #can you queue it

26 notes · View notes

bookofmirth · 3 years ago

Note

I saw your recent response to an anon where you mentioned the drama that occurred the other day based around bookprofessor’s post. Obviously you don’t have to respond to this or publish it if you do not wish but I just wanted to bring up that while it is important to focus on the real life issues at hand, the OP was hypocritical in her post which is why people were getting upset. She was preaching against ableism while simultaneously flaunting her IQ and degree which is a form of ableism. She was speaking out against racism while ending her post using the racial slur “cracker” when talking about the possibly Caucasian Twitter elriels.

Obviously she had some important points but it was completely overshadowed by her participation in the hate speech and prejudice that she was speaking out against.

This does not in any way justify the nasty messages she received but on the same hand, I do not blame anyone that called her out for her hypocrisy. I hope you can understand why her post was so negatively received and how flawed it was. My hope is that one day everyone can just ignore the negativity, report those who are being racist/prejudiced in any way, and block those who are just being loud and who you don’t wish to see content from. But unfortunately I do not see that happening any time soon.

There are a few things I want to address in this because I think it's a good moment for the fandom to step back and reflect on how we treat one another, how we react to such issues, and how we behave moving forward.

First off, thanks for explaining your point of view without being antagonistic. I do think that everyone's emotional reactions to the post were valid. I do NOT think their responses, in terms of words and actions, were valid. Now before I move forward, I want to clarify that when I use the word "you", I am referring to anyone who may have had the response I am describing - not you personally, anon. Also please don’t freak out about how long this is, as a majority of it is a response to the fandom in general, not you in particular.

What was - and wasn’t - said in the original post

In this post, there were completely valid criticisms of the way that people in this fandom behave, and it wasn’t “generalizing” a certain group, it was literal, actual proof of things that had been said, by multiple people. I’m not going to get too into what Alyssa argued because her critiques of those tweets was flawless. The original post had very valid criticisms of what was happening on Twitter. Alyssa exposed the actually racist, homophobic, and imperialistic underpinnings of those tweets.

However, a lot of people are stuck on the bits before and after those critiques. @bookprofessor apologized for different aspects of her post in a few different asks. There were perhaps better ways that some of those things could have been phrased, some things that could have been left out. And she apologized. People can accept that apology or not but we can’t act like it didn’t happen. Like she didn’t reflect and learn to do better.

However, the people she was calling out have not done the same thing, and if anything, comments that focus more on Alyssa’s tone than why she wrote the post in the first place lets those people off the hook.

On cracker - Using the word "cracker" is not racist in the same way that using racial slurs against POC is. Is it prejudiced? Yes. But you cannot say that it is the same thing when that is demonstrably untrue, given centuries of oppressive history. No one has been oppressed for being white. Those are not the same. Reverse racism is not a thing because a white person punching down on POC is NOT AT ALL the same thing as a POC punching up at white people. The actions look the same, but the impact is so unequal it’s not even funny.

Racism is a systemic, institutionalized problem. It is not defined by individual actions, though those actions can either support or challenge racism. When someone calls a white person a cracker, there isn’t centuries of oppression giving power to and reinforcing that statement. That is not a “gotcha” moment.

Saying “I have x IQ” or “I have X degrees” is not ableist. I’m sorry to whoever told you it was ableist (again, not you specifically anon but people who had read the “aw shucks guys” vagueblogs about it), but it’s not. Those are facts. I have no idea what my IQ is, but I have five degrees from institutions of higher education. Me saying that is in no way ableist.

Often, people mention those things to be elitist, yes. Sometimes, they can be used to say “hey I know more about this than you”. They can be used in a way that tries to make themselves feel superior. I suspect that this is the impression that a lot of people got of the post. However, there is a fine line between saying “hey that’s elitist” and professing anti intellectualism. Which is perhaps a side issue so I’ll let that go for now.

Another reason that people mention their degrees or qualifications is to establish their background knowledge and credibility. If I were to say “hey y’all I have two MA degrees” (which is true) I am not being ableist! It is a fact! It is factual! And I worked my ass off for those, I will be in student loan debt until I die for those, I have every right to mention them if I want to, and often I do so in order to establish my credibility, to explain the position I am coming from. And my prior knowledge of these topics is relevant when we are talking about literature since that’s what my degrees were on - literature and linguistics. That is why Alyssa mentioned her background, though she did pair it with comments about other people, for which she has apologized.

My final point about this is that I 1000% understand feeling insecure or less than because of educational attainment. I dropped out of high school. I had a complex about that for a long, long time. But I also know that if I took offense at someone else saying they had a PhD, then that offense is about me, not them. Someone else’s inferiority complex is not reason for people to pretend to be less than they are.

If those two comments are what overshadowed the bigger, more important issue for a lot of the readers of that post, then y’all allowed them to overshadow those more important issues. I am 99% sure that someone right now is reading this and thinking “but Leslie, it was the way that she said it!” Boy have I got some news for you!

How we react

This next section is not specific to this ask; instead, it is a discussion of how the fandom responded. If it were only one person who had said “but her tone” then I wouldn’t need to make this point. The fact that multiple people are exhibiting the behavior explained below is what makes this a cultural problem within the acotar fandom.

The main argument I saw on the post itself, and indeed any time I see people bring up how nasty Twitter can be, is that ��it was a joke” and “that’s how stan Twitter works”.

No.

Those responses were quite useful for this post, though! So buckle up everyone, because I am going to talk about gaslighting, racism, respectability politics, and tone policing. While I understand that some people might have taken personal offense to what was said, there is a much bigger issue at stake that has nothing to do with individual feelings, and everything to do with ensuring that POC stay silenced and white supremacy is upheld.

Back to the “but it’s a joke” thing. Thanks for gaslighting! Great example of that, person I’m not going to tag! Gaslighting is when you make someone question their experiences, when you try to make them think “wait, did I really feel that way? Is my feeling about that valid? Do I need to re-evaluate my response to this?? Am I blowing this out of proportion???” And saying “it’s just a joke” is a perfect way to do that. Did I say something accidentally sexist? It’s just a joke, nbd! Now you’re the problem, because you didn’t understand my joke and laugh!!!

Saying “it’s a joke” or “oh they are old/young/ignorant, they will learn” is not a good response to... anything. It takes the responsibility off the people who are doing the harm, and putting it onto the people who were hurt. And in this case, anyone who read those tweets and found them harmful (which should be everyone?) is completely valid. You aren’t lesser for being angry or emotional or for seeing a problem where other people saw a joke. The people who see those things as acceptable jokes are the ones in the wrong.

This is a tactic that is used against women all the time. Any time a woman is sexually harassed at work or online, for example, and she gets upset about it, and someone chimes in with “oh they weren’t serious, can’t you take a joke?” So you can imagine what this is like for women of color.

It is a very, very common tactic for people of color to be silenced via tone policing and respectability politics. Tone policing and respectability politics are very closely related, especially in this context. The idea is that if Alyssa had just written that post in just the right way, it would have been more palatable to white people, and therefore okay to write. The idea that if she had tried to be “understanding” or “see it from their perspective” or understand that it’s “just a joke” are all ways to silence and de-legitimize any accurate, valid criticisms that were made of those tweets. It effectively re-routes the conversation away from the real issues, and to the person trying to bring them up. It’s essentially an ad hominem attack in disguise.

We see respectability politics in media when people of color who act or dress or speak like white people are afforded more respect. Or any time that a person of color is pulled over and people say, “well if they had just done what the police officer asked...” There is a pervasive idea that if people just “act” properly, aka if you act white, then the police won’t feel antagonized and try to kill arrest you. If we are nice enough, meek enough, smile enough, etc. then we will be accepted.

When we tone police, we refuse to allow marginalized people the right to be angry. We say that "hey, we can only have this discussion if you leave emotion, which you rightfully feel, at the door, and we can only continue this discussion if you behave in a way that makes me feel comfortable." But guess what? It isn’t about you! These discussions are often highly uncomfortable. There is no nice way to tell someone they are being racist. And yet somehow, that is the ever-moving goalpost. It seems reasonable, right? “Just be civil, be nice, don’t insult each other!” And there is that. But those criteria change constantly, to the point where anyone (white) at any time can say “WHOA WHOA THIS IS MAKE ME UNCOMFORTABLE???” Then we find ourselves at zero, and suddenly the focus of attention has shifted away from the actual problem.

Before we go further, I want to say this: people have a right to be angry. They do not need to make their anger palatable or tasteful for the consumption of others (read: white people).

We saw this last summer, and I’m not sure how the message didn’t get across. But people are rightfully angry about racism. They are angry about the murder of people of color by police, they are angry about lack of quality education, or clean water, of centuries of oppression that have led to this very moment when all of that ceases to matter because a white woman’s feelings got hurt one time.

And that is what pisses me off so much. There is no way in this world that we could criticize tweets like those that everyone would agree with, and that everyone would “approve” of, that would be “nice” enough and yet still be impactful and make the authors of those tweets understand the gravity of what they have done.

The least we can do is allow one another to express our anger, our outrage, because it’s highly likely that those people know exactly what the fuck they are doing, and they do not fucking care. By criticizing a woman of color for the way in which she chose to engage with this topic, we are avoiding the issue and letting the people in those tweets off the hook.

There were many responses to that post that were positive, that agreed with Alyssa. There are a ton of people who disagree with those tweets, who find them disgusting, who understand exactly how and why they are problematic. That should be what we are talking about. Getting to the core of the argument, on that post or any about racism or other problematic behavior in fandom, requires getting past our own egos. It requires us to be able to step back, say “hm this thing is frustrating but there is a bigger picture here”. It’s not easy, and I recognize that.

The fact that it is a common tactic though? To say “hey this hurt me personally and so I’m going to ignore any valid points you made?” That feeds directly into centuries of white supremacy because it, once again, silences POC and makes them try to play a losing game. And they will always lose, because no matter how hard they try to play the white game, the goalposts are constantly shifting. So you know what? Fuck the game, and fuck respectability politics, and fuck tone policing and “uwu be nice guys” because when it comes to things like racism and sexism, I don’t expect the people who deserve to be criticized to be nice. In fact, trying to be nice only serves to fuck POC over in the end.

Indeed, in response to that post, certain blogs have taken the opportunity to position themselves as “the nice ones” or “the ones who would never” or “uwu let’s be nice guys” while completely ignoring the fact that a woman of color was attacked for calling out racism. And yes - that was the point of her post. People getting hung up on mentions of her degree are (intentionally or not, it doesn’t matter) completely obfuscating the fact that that is not what her post was about, which was to call out disgusting behavior. idk how many words the post actually was, but essentially, people are focusing on 5% of it to the detriment of the 95% that was actually really important shit. These types of vagueblog posts about the issue fall into exactly what I am talking about - these are people who have decided to look at this issue, see how Alyssa (and anyone else who dares speak up) has approached it, and intentionally try to act like they are “better” because they can be “rational” and “kind”. Newsflash, if you don’t have something to be angry about, then being “nice” about racism isn’t that much of a flex. If it didn’t bother you, then congratulations. That doesn’t make you better than people it did bother. You just got lucky this time, and decided to use that to your advantage to look like the good guy.

I am not saying that all calls for peace are doing this. Obviously it’s what we all want. This is the worst I have seen this fandom in the 4+ years I’ve been here. But we cannot have that by ignoring the real problems and pretending that if we are all just nice to each other, then we will solve racism and sexism and all bullying in the fandom will stop.

So combining all of this - the gaslighting, the tone policing, and what do you get? You get a fandom that refuses to actually engage critically with its own problems and take accountability for them. You get a fandom that decides that it’s easier to be distracted by this one mean comment over here than it is to engage in the fact that you know what, the culture in this fandom has actually turned incredibly disgusting and a lot of people are just okay with it. You’ve got a fandom that is using the tools of white supremacy to avoid the discussions that should actually be taking place. Maybe people don’t realize that that’s what they are doing. But if someone still thinks that after reading this post, then godspeed my friend, I hope you enjoy Twitter.

Okay so my last thing I want to say is that I didn’t come to all of this knowledge fresh from the womb. I do a lot of work, in my personal life and my professional life, to be better. So here is a list of books that I have found particularly helpful:

How to Be An Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi

Stamped From the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America also by Ibram X. Kendi

White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo (side note, I was kinda meh about this one but the chapter “White Women’s Tears” is particularly helpful)

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment by Patricia Hill Collins

I’m not going to talk specifically about Alyssa’s post anymore, but if anyone wants to continue talking about these broader issues going on in the fandom, I am game. (I really should be grading papers though, so it might take a bit.)

#cw racism #acotar #acosf #acotar fandom #fandom wank #fandom things #this is the long post i mentioned earlier #i will link it in my meta post

140 notes · View notes

zambie-trashart · 4 years ago

Text

Caught in My Chest 2/2

Marinette looked around her classroom taking her seat in the back and no one even gave her a second glance except Adrien.

"Marinette, since you missed so much class I can help you after school today if you feel up for it," Lila said sweetly before fake wincing. "Or maybe not my port has been acting up lately," Lila said crocodile tears coming to her eyes.

"Port?" Marinette asked and Alya glared at her from the front of the classroom. "Wouldn't that mean you have..." Marinette started holding her right arm where her piccline was.

"Go on Marinette ask her!" Alya yelled holding Lila close.

"But that's, I just..." Marinette started. "I was just discharged from the hospital with Hodgkin's Lymphoma," Marinette finally said and all faces turned toward her.

Never before had Marinette seen the class so mad at her all because of a lie. How Lila had gotten a hold of this information was unexplainable but the fact that she would turn it around was unspeakable. "I can't believe you would say you have cancer just to try and show up Lila Marinette! You know she was recently diagnosed!" Marinette's breath was caught in her chest and she felt like she could never breathe again. Adrien stood up red faced and shaking.

"You're all idiots! Lila has been playing you since day one and the only reason why I haven't said anything is because I didn't have any proof," Adrien said and Marinette looked at her former crush in shock. "If any of you even bothered to do some research you'd know what a monster she is." Lila looked at Adrien angrily.

"What do you mean proof?" Lila asked trying to keep up her hurt persona.

"Medical records," Adrien said slapping them down on the table. "Also the fact that Marinette here has been in a healthy relationship with Damian Wayne for almost a year now and the fact that he is paying for her treatment and housing her after you turned her parents against her is another factor." Lila's face started to turn red.

"You have no right to go through my documents," Lila said picking up the files.

"I mean if there were any there, your bill of health has been clean for years Lila, Marinette's on the other hand not so much," Adrien said. "That's all I needed to say, we can wait and do more have later when Damian gets here but I can't say he'll be as nice about it. Marinette is the only family I have left and I'm not going to let you drag her through the grass anymore," Adrien added going to sit in the back of the classroom next to his friend.

"You didn't have to do that," Marinette said leaning on his shoulder. "But I appreciate it kitten," Marinette said winking and Adrien knew he was busted.

"I'll always be here for you M'lady," Adrien said and class started without delay.

Lunch rolled around and everyone was conflicted, Lila had lied to them about a deadly illness about so much, and Marinette, who they treated like garbage, was the one who was really sick. A large sigh could be heard from the door and two boys with black hair stood in the doorway one pushed sunglasses to the top of his head smiling and the other's face was stone cold.

"Alright, students of Francois Dupont, my name is Dick Grayson and today we're going to be talking about some certain behaviors of slander toward our name," Dick started and the whole lunchroom froze. "Recently we have heard from a patient of our program to help cancer patients around the world that there has been some issues, we are here to clear that up." Students suddenly noticed that he was reading from a screen on his wrist. "I sound like a robot," Dick whispered to Damian who rolled his eyes.

"Furthermore, patient 13078, Marinette Dupain-Cheng of the Wayne Foundation clinic was taken under our care at time 4:37 on March 30, 2021, she was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma and moved to urgent care on April 2, 2021, after a biopsy on the first of April, 180 days of treatment are being provided and paid for in full. Lila Rossi who is not a patient of the Wayne foundation clinic has been seen harassing the patient which can cause stress levels to increase and therefore panic attacks which lead to trouble breathing and a shutting down of her lungs or windpipe in general if Miss. Rossi does not comply with our orders or removal from the school and distance from Miss. Dupain-Cheng, then we will be forced to take more forceful action..." Dick continued.

"Is this really necessary? Just stop messing with my girlfriend and apologize you assholes," Damian said and Dick sighed putting his arm down.

"Marinette, we know that things will never be the same but we're here to fight this with you," Alya said and Marinette felt tears well up in her eyes. Even if these people had been nothing but cruel to her she still wanted their support.

"We'll help you in any way we can dudette," Nino said wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"That really means a lot guys but I need time to get over this with people who are truly going to be at my side, I'll appreciate everything you do though," Marinette said getting up and walking over to Damian with Adrien following close behind.

"You did what you thought was right beloved," Damian said and Marinette just smiled sadly. Damian looked over her head at Adrien who stared right back. "I think I know someone who might be able to make us all feel a little happier during this time, I'll see what I can do," Damian said leaving the superhero duo together to call a friend who could certainly bring the sunshine into Marinette's life again.

"A lot is about to change kitty," Marinette said holding the blond's hand watching Damian talk on the phone.

"180 days of fun M'lady," Adrien responded and suddenly a boy landed next to Damian and ran over to Marinette.

"Ready to kick some ass future Mrs. Wayne?" the boy asked and Marinette just chuckled blushing. She could already feel the weight being lifted off her shoulders.

The first few weeks were hard, she had to work to stay awake and study, keeping up with others was becoming a challenge.

The second month was painful but then again there was poison in her body constantly being flushed in and out.

The third month, radiation started, she was scared but she knew it had to be done.

Month four, she was almost done they said maybe even healed soon.

Once they had the caner isolated, she just had to have that laser there and then, hopefully, it would all be over.

Marinette had 180 days of meeting Damian's self-proclaimed best friend Jon by her side being whatever he needed her to be, she had the best partner she could ask for who was there to talk to her whenever she was scared, and she had Damian, her rock in the ocean.

When Marinette went into the doctors office and read off her paperwork, tears flooded her eyes as she bit her lip trying to contain her smile.

She was cured. Sixteen years old and she fought cancer and won.

She walked into school looking at the anxious faces of her peers.

"I've wanted to tell you something that I've known since the beginning of treatment, I'm moving to America after this was over, there's something about being here that makes me feel tied down. I did it, I fought and won a war far bigger than myself but somehow there's still something that I feel like I need to do or say, like there's something caught in my chest," Marinette said smiling sadly. "Lila never said anything, and that's what stings the most but I know I leave you guys as better people and you'll never make the same mistakes again, I want you to know I forgive you, every one of you." Marinette looked over her classmates one last time eyeing their expressions of tear-filled faces. "I have a flight to catch, bug out," Marinette said taking Damian's hand and walking past Jon and Adrien at the door and out of the school.

For the first time in a long time, Marinette felt her heart flutter as she took a deep breath and got on the plane.

a/n: This was such a hard story to write for me and I'm so happy to anyone who is reading and hope you enjoyed this experience. It has actual factual information in it and maybe you might have even learned something which would be cool huh? I hope to end up like Marinette in the next 163 days. thank you for reading

-Zambie

Taglist is closed due to story being complete: @hateswifi @crystalangelluna @liquid-luck-00 @thatonecroc @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @professionalfangirl1738 @mochegato @wannajointhecrabcult @ranger-gothamite @moonspiritwolf1 @mochinek0 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ash-amg @enchanted-nerd @mewwitch @zorua-adorable @jumpingjoy82 @coolspidermanmusicflower @yazz-frost @bugsy05 @rhetoric-question-mark @myazael @rosep16 @elmokingkong @kking13 @heaven428 @vixen-uchiha @arcticfox487 @toodaloo-kangaroo @battybatbat

234 notes · View notes

xbunnybunz · 4 years ago

Text

Jealousy [Lelouch x Reader]

Summary: You love Zero, Lelouch loves you. Lelouch is Zero, and you are none the wiser.

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Date: August 10, 2014

-----

“S-sir?

A meek voice echoed through the storage room, seeking the leader of the black knights.

Lelouch blinked from behind his mask and looked away from some paperwork, wondering who had confronted him. Could it possibly be...? Yes. Of course it was.

There you stood, fiddling with your hair and cheeks tinged pink, avoiding eye contact with your leader. Yes, as much as Lelouch had tried to convince you otherwise, you had become a member of the Black Knights. ‘The problem is that Lelouch had tried to tell her, and not “Zero”’ Lelouch thought, aggravated. Lelouch recalled a particularly bad day in school; his identity was almost revealed by a mere cat, and after he had expended his energy into chasing the rotten animal, he nearly fell off of the school roof. So when you told him about your intention to join the Black Knights, he was anything but happy. Perhaps he had taken it a tad too far, because he could still remember how bitterly you had reacted after he told you to “get a hold of yourself;” that “a dangerous job like being a Black Knight was not meant for delusional fangirls like yourself.” Looking back now, he wished he had just taken his anger elsewhere. “What do you know about me, Lelouch?” You snarled, stepping away from him. “Just because you knew me since childhood doesn't mean that you can judge my feelings toward Zero! You have no right to call me delusional-” “-Yes I do!” Lelouch narrowed his violet eyes, glaring a hole into your skull, “How can you say you love him if you've never even met him before? You’re risking your life for someone who will reject your feelings!” He watched as you froze and cast your eyes downward, red flooded your cheeks. “Yeah, Lelouch, is that what you think? That he's going to reject my feelings?” You ask, looking up at him, eyes shining with sorrow. “Well, that’s alright. He wouldn’t be the first time I was rejected, right?” Lelouch’s eyes widened slightly in disbelief; were you still hung up about that? "I'll be going now." You say, turning away from him. He wanted to reach out and stop you, but he didn't. He couldn't. He could lead an army and take down several nightmares with a single command, but he didn’t have the fortitude to stop a girl from leaving a room. Pathetic. Footsteps. Door. "Click." Then silence. Lelouch heaved a small sigh behind his mask and turned his body to face you. "What is it, soldier?" You winced at his words and shifted uncomfortably, pink turning to red on your cheeks "W-well, sir, I've been wondering about something..." Lelouch's purple eyes watched your face turn varying shades of red, scowling. Why didn't you act this way around him at school? Why did you blush and fidget in front of him now, when he was under a different name and a different life? Was the normal Lelouch missing something?! No… You had done this, but not anymore. Lelouch was touched. You had fallen for him twice, if that wasn’t love, then he didn’t know what was. Regrettably, he couldn’t accept your feelings, especially not here- not with this side of him. "Uhm..." You diverted your gaze from him, instead deciding to stare at an empty crate. "I've been wondering why you call me 'soldier' all the time, sir." Lelouch raised an eyebrow, which you couldn't see, of course. "Are implying that you not one of my loyal soldiers?" You quickly scrambled to defend yourself, "N-no sir! It's just that... That you call the other Black Knights by their real names, and- and-" You bit your lip and looked down at your shoes, feeling quite stupid for bringing up such a mundane question. "I'm sorry, sir. Never mind." Your cheeks were lit aflame. You were talking to Zero one-on-one at last, but you had only made a fool of yourself. Why would he call you soldier? Because you were a soldier, of course! Such idiotic questions... What kind of answer were you anticipating? "And you?" You blinked stupidly, taken by surprise. "Huh? Me?" Zero continued, standing up and leaning against a large crate next to him. "Why do you call me 'sir,' and not Zero?" He recalled how you said Zero's name in his presence at school. You spoke it with awe, respect, and sometimes, to his chagrin: love. The name "Zero" never failed to pull compliments and praises from your lips- and although Lelouch should have been feeling pretty darn good about that- dammit all! That was not how it was supposed to be! You were supposed to love him, Lelouch! Not his alter-ego! He watched as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, tempting him to claim those lips as his. How long has he been waiting for a kiss from you? A week? A month? A year? Goodness, who knew? He lost count a long time ago. Ever since he had declinced your romantic advancements in school, he found himself getting interested in you as well- a bit more than he was comfortable with. However, as anyone who was rejected would do, you were slowly getting over Lelouch. Unfortunately for the boy, your confesion had only ignited his interest in you- and it was swallowing him whole. What had caused your fondness of him? Why would you approach him about such a trivial topic? You couldn’t have found out about his true identity, right? At first, it was just these factual questions; nothing that would harm anyone. But in due time, he began wondering how you would react in certain situations. What would she do if I told her that I liked her as well? How would she react if I hugged her? Held her hand? Kissed her? Soon, he found himself thinking of you whenever he was able to; whether it be in class, while doing his homework, or during Student Council meetings. His curiosity had developed into a near obsession- or dare he say, an attraction. Lelouch had managed to suppress thoughts of you while he was with the Black Knights, and thank goodness for that. He couldn’t imagine the chaos that would ensue if you managed to worm your way into his mind, then. But now… There you stood, twiddling your fingers and chewing your goddamn lip in front of him. Lelouch couldn’t deny it. He wanted you, and he always got what he wanted… Just not like this. He didn’t want it like this. He couldn’t have you interferring with his plans to destroy Britannia, and he definitely didn’t want you to love Zero. In order to prevent any kind of intimacy between you and his alter-ego, he began referring to you as “soldier” instead of by your name. But damn it all to hell if it worked, because it didn’t. Each time he called you “soldier”and you called him “sir,” the tension between you two would double, and triple, and exponentially rise, driving him to the brink of absolute madness. You distanced yourself from Lelouch at school, and he knew that you were trying your best not to make things awkward between the two of you- he knew that you were trying to move on, but the more you pulled away from him, the less he wanted to let go. What was there to move on from, if he loved you back? Before he had a chance to recalculate his relationship with you, you had managed to slip out of his grasp… And right back in. Unbeknownst to you, you had fallen head-over heels for the same person twice. But this time, oh, this time, it was so much stronger. Your feelings of love, admiration and respect had mixed into one unidentifiable goop of emotion that was directed toward the leader of the Black Knights. And as if the world wasn't enough of a paradox, Lelouch found himself jealous of… Himself. His geass couldn’t help him here. He had sat down one day, completely weighed down by your flurry of emotions as well as his own. He was desperate for the tensions between you two to stop, and although he was ashamed of it now, he had written out a list of commands he could use to make you love him, and not Zero. Of course, it was in vain. He was Zero, and Zero was him. They were one and the same person, no matter how much Lelouch wished it wasn’t true. A single command would either make you hate Lelouch and Zero, or worse- love both at the same time. In the past month, Lelouch’s jumbled thoughts brewed faster and faster inside of his mind, whipping up into a horrible storm, and he had no one else to blame but you. What in the hell had you done to him? “That-” You say, yanking him out of his exasperating thoughts, “That would be inappropriate.” Lelouch took a moment to recollect his thoughts. Oh, right. He had asked you a question. “Tell me,” He said, his voice coming out raspily from behind his mask, “What makes you think that calling me ‘Zero’ would be inappropriate?” “W-well,” You stuttered, “I’ve only known you for a year, sir.” “A lot of things aren’t necessarily appropriate, are they?” Lelouch asked, ignoring your answer, “Because of their morals, humans cage themselves into a dead end. Wouldn't it be easier to forget them all and break free?” Break free… “I guess so…” You mumble, looking at your shoes modestly. “_______,” Lelouch tasted your name on his tongue, enjoying the sweet, yet acerbic taste it left in his mouth, “You say you’ve known me, Zero, for a year, correct?” You answered, surprised that he even knew your name. “Yes, sir- Erm, Zero…” You blushed upon saying the name, much to Lelouch’s distaste. He ignored it. That’s all that he could do, for now. Suddenly, you heard a loud “BAM!” The sound was harsh, and it grated upon your ears, echoing within the closed space that both Zero and you had occupied. You flinched and closed your eyes, preparing for the worst. When nothing came, you pried your eyes open, stunned to see one of Zero’s arms against the wall next to you, caging your body with his. With his other hand, he calmly pressed a button on the side of his mask. You stood, bewildered and astonished as you heard the whirring of gears, signalling the retraction of the back of his mask. “Z-Zero- what are you-!” “Humor me, _______.” He cut you off, “Is one year enough time to fall in love?” Because I've known you my whole life... “O-one year… One year can do a lot…” You gulped, watching as Zero adjusted his mask to show his mouth. “Then, hell.” He whispered, leaning into your lips, “I must be completely infatuated.”

#code geass #fanfiction #lelouch x reader #code geass x reader #old content

468 notes · View notes

enhyupn · 4 years ago

Text

the perfect date! chapter two

masterlist | previous | next

a series in which enhypen’s 02s competitive side shines through when trying to get your attention. the only solution to end this tiring rivalry? three dates with each of them in the course of three weeks.

paring: 02s x gn!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: fluff, angst, high school!au, someone’s gonna end up heartbroken

warnings: swearing, violence is mentioned, a lot of jealousy

ask to be on taglist, updates are irregular

a/n i can’t tell if i love this or not BUT i say that abt all my works sooooo 🙏 enjoy

taglist: @dchannie17 @simluvbot @jaeyuni @neocrush @penghoons @min-arya @sunooflowerss @badroseee @cha-raena

there you stood. your mouth barely open as you stared blankly at your best friend (there were question marks floating around that word currently), you weren’t able to process anything up until that moment so jake’s few words made your brain explode in utter distress. you put your finger up in the air, trying to figure out this whole situation in under a second so you could catch up with what was going on. no words coming out of your mouth as you tried to communicate with yourself but the outcome of it just left you as confused as you were in the beginning.

“y/n?” jake waved his hands in front of your face to try and get your attention. he sighed before running his hair through his hair, seemingly frustrated by this whole incident. “i swear i was gonna try and tell you this at a later stage in a more romantic way but i couldn’t let him try anything” he paused, licking his lips, “he definitely would of if you told him you liked him in middle school too—”.

“okay can we just let this all sink into my head before we start talking about what the fuck you just told me” you shut him up from carrying on with his little rant. your hands find it’s way to your head, not so lightly hitting it in irritation. your thoughts were already clouded by jay’s return meaning jake’s makeshift confession didn’t help clear up anything at all. especially with all his unneeded rambling; you weren’t be able to understand anything coming out of his mouth.

“what are you—” jake’s eyes widen in concern as he tried to stop you, a glare from you being the thing that stopped him from doing so. you pause what you were doing to blankly stare at jake with furrowed eyebrows, scaring him a little in the process.

“so you’re telling me that” you muttered just clearly and loudly enough that he could understand you. “park sunghoon was staring at me?”.

“yes, but that’s not as much of a big deal compared to what’s happening—”

“we have a new transfer student”

“correct”

“and that transfer student is my first love, jay park?”

“you hit the nail on the head”

“and he told me he liked me? like romantically?”

“i’m sure that’s what he was implying”

“and now you?” you stared at him with narrow eyes. you felt a mix of guilt and confusion due to the fact you should of realised his feelings for you throughout your friendship. the only thing confusing you was why you? what did you bring to the table besides playful bullying and the occasional hyping up for jake sim to have a crush on you? “when did you— why do you— never mind i can’t think right now”.

“you can answer me when you have time to figure this out y/n” he shrugged a little too calmly for you to feel reassured. “i’ve liked you for a while i guess, i even told some people on valentine’s day i couldn’t accept their gift because i had a crush on you”.

“you what?” the memory of the most recent february fourteenth played in your head, the dots connecting when you realised that’s the reason why jake’s number of confession significantly dropped.

“it doesn’t matter okay?” jake didn’t want you to question him about his embarrassing crush on you any further. “i just wanted to make sure you knew so jay park over there can realise you aren’t the same person from middle school”.

“how could he— what does you confessing to me have anything to do with jay?” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, your voice raising slightly. jake just laughed in response, biting his lip in what it seemed like victory as he turned around in the direction on your classroom. the brown haired boy seemed like he was proud of himself for accomplishing basically nothing, confusing you even more with a random confession seemed to be the only thing he actually did.

“nothing really, just to put him in his place” jake told you as you two made your way through the hallways. you rolled your eyes as you quickened your pace up to walk beside him.

“you’re acting really possessive right now, put him in his place? you’re so weird” you murmured, irritated at how jake was acting. “plus it’s not like jay likes the high school me, you heard the boy. he liked me, even made sure to make the -d sound pop”.

“i don’t think so...” jake replied as his head replayed the memory of jay entering the classroom again. he scoffed at the image of him, not entirely loving the fact he was right in reach of you. “honestly i think he still—”.

“y/n are you okay?” sunghoon interrupted jake, you two were almost one step into the classroom when he had appeared out of nowhere. it seemed like he was waiting for your arrival but you shook it off as some sort of coincidence.

your eyes widen in surprise at his concerned expression, this being the first time you’ve seen the boy look so warm when compared his cold front he normally puts on. “i told everyone to not speak about what happened, i thought that you would feel a little uncomfortable about it” he added.

“oh great” jake said to himself quietly, “another one”. you rolled your eyes at your best friend’s pettiness, elbowing him in hopes he’d finally shut up.

“no sunghoon” you smile widely at him, a warm feeling spreading around his stomach. “i’m fine! thank you though, that was really nice of you”.

“don’t mention it, it must be troubling to be surrounded by all these boys but i can see why” he smiled shyly. everyone but you could see the pink tint taking over his face as he turned around to get back to his desk. it was a blessing you were as oblivious as you were, completely not catching his last few words.

jake raised his eyebrows in suspicion before catching a glimpse of jay who was watching the whole conversation go down with a smirk. rolling his eyes he looks back at you, a small smile spread across your lips from the small interaction with sunghoon.

“sorry about jake too!” you rose your voice a little louder so sunghoon could catch it, he nodded with a small chuckle before sitting in his seat.

jake sent a glare towards sunghoon, visibly annoyed that he was taking your attention off of him. the boy then replied with another glare back, somehow looking more intimidating than jake was.

“some lunch” you whispered to yourself as you looked back on the last thirty minutes. there was only two minutes left of your break and all you had accomplished was three bites from your sandwich and a miniature war between three of your classmates. normal things i suppose.

it wasn’t like jake had anything against the class president, it was just... obvious what sunghoon was trying to do.

what was he trying to do exactly? get closer to you in hopes that you’d fall in love with him.

honestly anyone could put the pieces together, sunghoon passionately telling the class while you were away to not bother you and the pink in his ears when you spoke to him was only the tip of the iceberg. jake was jealous of sunghoon, not that he’d ever admit it, and in the heat of moment he’d let that jealousy take control.

jay was a different story to jake however, he definitely had something against him, he could admit that easily. unlike his jealousy towards sunghoon, this form of jealousy was much more obvious. when your teacher had come in and assigned jay a seat, it was right beside the two of you. jake made it his entire job to make sure jay couldn’t get a word to you, it wasn’t so subtle due to the fact you could see it from the way jake interrupted jay’s questions.

“y/n where is—”

“if you look at page four of your school journal, it tells you where all the factuality rooms are” jake smiled sweetly, sarcasm practically dripping from his lips.

“thanks jake” jay replied, his words not really sounding sincere as he stared blankly at him. jake chuckled to himself before sitting back in his seat smugly, finding some entertainment in this situation.

you couldn’t help but let a sigh out, frustrated at not only jake (who honestly was being a little annoying) but yourself for letting this whole thing happen. i mean it’s not your fault exactly that jake likes you, the fact that jay had a crush on you wasn’t in your control but the fact they had some rivalry going on made you feel guilty since you were the pathway between the two of them.

“can you stop jake, what is with you?” you whisper to the boy. currently sunghoon was giving a speech to the class, something about festivals and booths but you honestly weren’t in the mood to listen to his rambling. “at least play nice, jay’s still new to this whole korean high school thing”. jake rolls his eyes before turning to you, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek in slight irritation due to the fact you were on your first love’s side instead of his.

“y’know, i don’t owe him anything y/n” jake reminds you as you roll your eyes, placing your chin into the palm of your hand not wanting to continue this conversation further.

“the least you can do is be nice” you muttered, jake not hearing due to the fact he was now paying attention to sunghoon. you had never seen jake like this, the usual yellow bubbly aura surrounding him was now replaced by a repulsive green that was unrecognisable.

“and so, that’s why i think we should sell food at our booth” your ears had finally tuned into sunghoon’s speech, who looked like he was currently desperate for some interaction from your classmates. “any ideas?”.

the classroom was completely silent, nobody wanting to speak up in hopes that sunghoon would just figure out the solution himself. you frowned to yourself, feeling pity for him as trying to engage with your class wasn’t the easiest thing to do. you scanned the classroom, making sure your next few words weren’t going to interrupt anyone.

“we could sell candied apples?” sunghoon’s expression turned into a positive one as his eyes sparkled in gratitude. you stand up from your seat so the boy could get a better view of you. “they’re cheap and pretty much in our budget? plus you don’t really need that many people to do anything”.

“that’s a great idea” sunghoon’s praise only caused your smile to grow wider, an action that didn’t sit quite well with the two boys next to you. “and it fits our limited amount of workers too! only... two people signed up to help out this year, which funnily enough is just you and i”. he glanced around the classroom to only find people awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

you had felt a little happy that sunghoon had said that, being one of the two people he had mentioned just added to your already positive mood.

as for jake, who raised his eyebrow in displeasure, you could tell that he was feeling the exact opposite. as if he wasn’t already annoyed with the fact jay was in the room, now he has to deal with the fact you and sunghoon are going to intimately work together on some stupid booth. he took a quick peek at jay, wondering what his expression was at this news.

sure enough the boy was almost as displeased about this whole situation as jake, his cool yet calm composure being the thing that masked his emotions. the only thing that was giving it away was the way he bit his lip in aggravation, making it clear that sunghoon’s words were putting him in a bad mood only an hour in of attending this school.

“y/n meet me after school so we can discuss this” sunghoon grinned, you nod happily as you sat downback into your seat gleefully. you didn’t know why you were so happy, maybe it was the fact this was one of the first times where sunghoon is actually warmly speaking to you? or maybe because he was indirectly praising you? you went with the latter to answer your question.

“sunghoon— it’s sunghoon right?” your eyes widen in surprise when you realise it was jay speaking up. and from the looks of it, sunghoon was not that pleased with the way jay had tried to catch his attention.

“yes jay?” sunghoon tried his best to hide his growing irritation with a smile. jay sat up straight in his seat, clearing his voice before not so subtly sending jake a mischievous smirk. anyone looking at jay could tell that he was about to plan something, a plan that was going to one up jake in terms of getting closer to you.

“maybe i should help out at the booth, since i am new and it’d be good to be involved i guess” bingo. jay gave him his most convincing smile.

“you guess?” jake repeated to himself as he crossed his arms, a scoff escaping his mouth. a smirk found itself on jay’s face when he heard jake’s mumbling, quite proud of himself that he got the boy pissed off from simply nothing.

“that’ll be... good” there was no sincerity in sunghoon’s voice, a slight scowl present across his lips as he wrote down jay’s name on the sign up sheet. “then see us after—”.

“sunghoon” now it was jake’s turn to speak up. you groaned in embarrassment when you realised all eyes were on you, well mainly the two boys beside you but you could also feel the stares too. you glanced over at your best friend, unsure what to feel at his sudden interest in this conversation.

“yes, jake?” at this point it was obvious to your class that there was something going on between the four of you. from the way you had tried to hide from the stares by slouching slightly in your seat in embarrassment to the three boys not to subtly glaring at each other, there was no way you could deny the tension.

it was kind of like you were playing piggy in the middle. you were the pig but every time you tried to interrupt this slightly (hugely) embarrassing quarrel between your classmates, you were ignored. your eyes scanned between the three boys, unsure what was really going on but from the looks of it, they definitely did not like each other. from sunghoon’s passive aggressive tone, jake’s unusual possessiveness to jay’s hostility towards jake, you really didn’t understand where any of this stemmed from.

and yes, it was very cliché of you to be completely and utterly oblivious to their attractions to you but if we think hard, isn’t it justifiable? i mean three heartthrobs (not just one!) suddenly start indirectly arguing with each other over you in under a day and it would be a little unbelievable due to the fact it sounds more like a shoujo manga or k-drama plot than anything.

“i’d like to sign up too”

considering jake was your class’ unofficial yet official golden boy, it was a surprise to know that he didn’t really involve himself in class activities. it was mainly you, who’s aim was to buff up any application you were going to fill out in the future, who was involved in almost everything. well, besides school council, you didn’t think you were ready to have that amount of authority.

“that’s a first” sunghoon joked, one that wasn’t received well by jake.

“ha ha ha” jake laughed dryly but loudly enough that the whole class could hear. you almost elbowed the boy for the second time that day in more embarrassment but you stopped yourself in fear you were going to cause a scene.

“anyone else want to sign up?” sunghoon asked the class, slightly pleading that nobody else would answer him. the class shuffled uncomfortably in silence, a clear sign that nobody else was going to speak up anymore. “i love the enthusiasm” a sarcastic sigh left sunghoon’s mouth, “so i’ll see you y/n after school... and the two of you i suppose”.

“asshole” jay spoke under his breath as he sat back in his seat. the quiet reply was only heard by him and your seat mate since you were in the process of trying to figure out how to make everyone understand you weren’t involved in this silent argument.

while jake, for the first time, finally found something he agreed with that came out of jay’s mouth.

#enhypennetwork #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction

154 notes · View notes

minty-malfoy · 4 years ago

Text

reading between the lines

• pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

• summary: draco takes you on a date that involves lots of hand holding and a cozy bookshop.

• request: Hi! I was wondering if you could write a Draco malfoy imagine where he and the reader are dating, and he takes her for a hogsmeade date at a bookshop, because she is a bookworm, and they pick books for each other and he pays for everything?

• word count: 2.9k

a/n: no thoughts head empty just draco fluff. this is meant to be a breather after all the angsty love triangle fics i wrote for this boy

oh & this would've been out way sooner if I stopped being too much of a perfectionist (which I did like midway) so yeah I'm finally putting it out and just hoping for the best. my writing style had a weird identity crisis when I was working on this, but let's pretend it didn't. enjoy!

"Cold, isn't it?"

You look up at the voice's owner, only to catch a mixture of sympathy and a terribly smug I told you so on his pretty face.

Despite your scoff, you know he's right, and so does he. The chilly autumn air was penetrating through the fabric of your coat, mercilessly tickling the skin underneath; feeling like an in between that's neither as icy and cold as winter, nor as warm and friendly as summer. Regardless, it's something that your boyfriend, whom your fingers are laced with, doesn't seem to like.

"C'mere," he finally grumbles, tugging you closer towards him. "Merlin, (y/n), couldn't have underdressed more than this, could you?" he says bitterly, but his eyes display the complete opposite. You've learned to recognize the glint of affection in his orbs quite easily by now.

"I was in a hurry!" you exclaim with a wide grin that betrays your stern excuse. "And you don't have to be so rude and mean about it."

"Well, pardon me for being against the idea of my girlfriend freezing out in this weather. Now enough of that, give me your hands," he orders, because the only other thing Draco would be against is the idea of arguing with you, especially when it's over such trivial things. This was just his way of deflating the situation.

You eye him curiously as his hands rub into yours, enveloping them completely with his own. Then when he catches you staring, a small smirk finds its way onto his lips. Suddenly he's lifting one of your hands to his face, holding it right under his mouth before placing a few soft breathy kisses there. Even with the fabric of your glove in between, you can still easily feel the warm contact of his lips.

You can't tell whether it's due to the cold air that a blush paints itself on Draco's cheeks, but you decide not to think about it, because now you're looking away to hide a blush of your own.

Both of you continue walking with hands still entwined, letting the air glide around your bodies softly. It's a complete juxtaposition of the ecstatic impatience pulsing through your veins, all contained behind your soft smile that Draco doesn't need to point out or question. He knows you're excited, and he knows the reason perfectly well.

You've been giddy ever since he proposed taking you on a bookshop date. After all, it involved two of the things you loved most: Draco Malfoy, and your undying passion for reading. It was no secret how often Draco found you deeply engrossed in a book, without fail making him feel awestruck and simultaneously envious. Not that he would ever admit he got jealous over an inanimate object, of course, and least of all to you.

Deep down, Draco's more than happy to see the joy in your eyes when you're rereading one of your favorite books, or the cheerfulness in your smile after picking up a new one. He loves you and your hobby all the same.

When you finally make it to the bookshop, you practically have to hold back from stampeding directly into it, pursing your lips into a line to contain your enthusiasm. This, of course, doesn't go without Draco's notice, and you don't mind the chuckle he sends your way. You're far too occupied with the thought of gliding your fingers over the eclectic book collections.

He pulls you inside gently while eyeing your reaction the entire time, and frankly, he can't help but melt at the way your eyes light up in childlike wonder, the way you take in the familiar scent of parchment, and the way you finally turn to him with an uncontainable grin.

"I have a proposal to make," you announce, unaware of the way your grin makes his heart skip a bit.

"Should I be worried?" he smirks.

"We should pick a book for eachother!"

Draco thinks over the idea in his head for a moment or two, finding it hard to deny that it was rather pointless to him. Neither of you are sure what the other would like, and for the most part, his concerns are true. But then again, it's the way your smile brightens up at the idea, coupled up with his curiosity as to what you'd possibly pick for him, that ultimately leads him to accept the suggestion.

You give his hand a light squeeze before finally pulling away and parting to another section of the bookshop. Draco's left to stare at his empty hand with an obvious frown. Maybe he shouldn't have agreed to this, he thinks, as he's missing the contact already. All he wants is to have you nearby, to see the enthusiasm in your face from each book that you pull out. But when his eyes meet yours in the far off corner of the bookshop, he smiles tenderly, and decides to let you be. There's always more time for physical affection later.

Back in your spot in the bookshop, you're already eyeing the countless racks of books in wonder, roaming over every cover and title curiously. For once, you're somewhat thankful to have time and space to yourself from the blonde slytherin. To select a book for him, you would have to be methodical and punctilious. Neither are ever easy when he's around, when it feels like your rational thinking is all turned into mush. Hence, rather than wasting a single second, you immediately focus on the task at hand.

For a brief moment, you wonder if Draco had already deduced the type of book you'd get him, considering how obvious it is by the section you instantly went towards.

Non-fiction, the factual informative reading that might suit his tastes and interests. Something under astronomy seems to make the most sense, although then again, you assume he already knows most there is to know under that natural science. School related studies like potions and transfiguration cross your mind as well, albeit briefly, because you're not sure what good it would be to give someone a book on something they're already quite good at.

You toss your thoughts back and forth as your fingers fumble over multiple books, hoping one of them could strike you with a burst of inspiration. But it isn't until a peculiar idea lights up like a light bulb in your head. You didn't necessarily have to give Draco something he would like, as long as your choice would be meaningful and thoughtful.

That's exactly how you make up your mind and gingerly pull out a certain book with a content smile, keeping it tucked under your arm as you continue to browse the selection for a few books for yourself.

"All done, love?"

You spin around in one swift motion, quickly hiding the book you chose for him behind your back, although it wasn't the easiest thing to do when you had a couple other in your hold.

"What do we have here?" he cheekily tries to catch a peek, but you're already backing away spontaneously.

"It's a surprise!" you squeal, and Draco already has his hands held out innocently, chuckling slightly when he says, "Alright, alright. Now let's go purchase all these books."

You follow him to the cashier where you hand over all the items you've been holding. You reach for your purse in the bag you had with you, rummaging around for it with your fingers. But when you finally pull it out with a triumphant smile, you find that Draco has beat you to it, and he's already paying for all the books you chose.

You give him a look that says that's not fair, but you know it's just one of his many ways of showing his adoration for you.

He picks up the paper bags and begins heading towards the exit, where he's stopped midway by a kiss on the cheek. In other words, your little way of thanking him.

"keep doing that and I'll end up buying you this entire bookshop," he tells you in a half joke, betraying the fact that deep down he's rather serious about the idea. Draco Malfoy had come to a point where spending money was the least of his worries when it came to you.

"Tempting," you hum. "but you know I'd rather do it for free." you get up on your tiptoes again and plant a second kiss on his cheek, as if to prove your point. His hand reaches for the spot with an affectionate look directed your way; not entirely used to receiving the loving words and gestures that you give him.

"There's another bookshop nearby. Fancy giving it a look?" he asks with a wink.

You let out a faux gasp, smacking his shoulder playfully, "If you want more kisses, all you have to do is ask! And besides, I'll make sure to give you lots of them when we get back."

He smiles widely, leaning closer to whisper in your ear, "Well, I'll make sure you stay true to your word on that."

The two of you giggle as you finally walk back out into the outdoors, where the cold air greets you before anything else could. You're trying your best not to shiver, mainly out of knowing it might ignite a second wave of Draco's lecturing. Not that he'd notice, really, he's far too busy staring at that pretty smile of yours and how much he wants to capture it with the matching one on his face.

And he almost would have if you didn't snap him out of his thoughts, reaching for a specific book and pulling it out for him to see. It didn't take much to figure out what you were doing, so he grabbed a book of his own before you both exchanged the two items.

"How did you know what I'd like?" you ask him, gazing at the hardback under your fingers, feeling the texture you've become familiar with against your skin. But when Draco doesn't respond, you take a glance at him with a raised brow.

"Romance?" he blinks in confusion a few times, struggling to hide the surprise at your choice of what was, frankly, not his cup of tea. He's not entirely sure on what to say, so you fill in the silence for him.

"I know it doesn't suit your tastes, but I thought it would be nice to get you something I like instead. Kind of like showing you a part of me that you'll only understand through things like books."

He looks between you and the book, processing the explanation that you gave him. Until finally, his signature smile is back on his face and he says, "I won't promise that I'll like it."

In moments like these, it was easy to read between the lines, when Draco showed his love through actions much more than words. "I won't promise that I'll like it" rather meant "I'm willing to give it a shot only because it means something to you" and it held a larger amount of affection than he let on.

"What?" Draco asks, noticing the stupid lovesick grin decorating your face.

"Oh, nothing. You're adorable."

He raises a challenging brow to match his response, "I think either menacing or charming is far more suitable. Adorable is far off the list." but you still notice the blush on his cheeks. It's not that hard to miss, honestly, with the color of his skin.

"I stand by my statement."

Draco nearly snorts at this, already thinking of an alternative counter argument. One quickly comes to mind, "Try telling that to someone like Weasley. Bet he'd puke before he could even begin proving you wrong."

You roll your eyes, "Well, he's not the one you're snogging or taking on bookshop dates, is he?"

Draco sucks in a sharp breath, stuck between finding it useless to continue the disagreement while also grimacing at the sudden image of him snogging Ron Weasley, likely a potential nightmare fuel to haunt him in his sleep.

"Please never mention that thought ever again," he begs you before switching the conversation to a lighter topic. "Where would you like to head to now, my dear?"

You already have an idea in mind, and you have the feeling Draco would like it just as much.

• • •

And like it he does, although that word is nowhere close to describing the fondness he feels in the moment; having you tucked in between his legs with your back against his chest, the both of you hidden in a spot beside the Black Lake where no one would be around to disrupt.

You melt into him, feeling every intake of air that enters his respiratory, eliciting the soft rise and fall of his chest. You feel every thud of his heartbeat against your skin and every single vibration of his occasional humming.

His free hand is wrapped around your waist to pull you closer into him, where his thumb is absentmindedly rubbing your skin every now and then. It all turned reading into a nearly impossible task, which was a first for someone like you.

"How's the book?" you ask him in hopes of a distraction— which you earn far too easily. Instead of the book in your hands, you're now fixated on the way Draco's lids flutter when he blinks at you, and the way he licks his lips that have gone dry from the crisp air.

"Underwhelming," he begins. "These two idiots are clearly in love, and it would've all been over by the first chapter if either of them made a move."

Draco had thought that this comment was enough to make you attempt reasoning with him; to defend the fiction novel he was reading. What he did not expect, however, was to hear you giggle, bright and clear as day.

He looks at you in confusion, hoping to get handed an explanation.

"You do realize that's exactly how we were back then?" you utter, looking into his grey eyes once again. Both of you take a moment to recall the memory, smiling silently at the image of two clueless lovesick idiots wondering if the other liked them just as much.

"Hm, I suppose if you put it that way." Draco finally affirms. His fingers begin reaching for yours, where both meet in a loving entanglement. "Honestly, (y/n), how was I supposed to know you fancied me when all you did was bloody look away?"

"That's only because I was too nervous to look at you!" you huff out. "I'm beginning to think I should get you more of those romance novels."

You don't hear a reply, but you feel the smile in his lips as he presses soft wet kisses into your skin, followed by the hot breaths that are a contrast to the freezing air. Draco notices this fact from the tiny shivers of your body, and he begins to pull away gently.

"Come now, love, we should head back inside before it gets too cold."

You pout at his offer; enjoying yourself in the current activity far too much, even if you've left the reading part of it unattended. Having Draco's arms around you with your fingers laced together was all that mattered.

Your lover frowns at your reaction, wishing you weren't so stubborn when the cold is biting your skin, but he makes sure to vocalize a second offer; one he knows you wouldn't refuse, "I could read to you in my room if you'd like."

And that's all it takes for you to beam an appreciative grin at him.

"And someone would have to warm up that body of yours. Can't exactly do that out here," he adds, referring to the darkening sky and the decreasing temperature enveloping your bodies. But you seemed to have misread his statement, or perhaps you were purposefully trying to tease him. Either way, a smirk was sitting on your expression that didn't go unnoticed.

"Not in that way, love," he drawls out, letting out a small laugh that vibrates into your skin. "Unless that's what you'd like?"

Your hand immediately comes into contact with his chest in the form of a playful smack, although you can't hide the amused smile on your face. In turn, Draco dramatically gasps out, "I've been wounded!"

For a moment, all that exists is the sound of your laughter coming together like a muddled up choir and the feeling of fingers wrapped together. When the laughter dies down, and you're finally brought back into the present, you pull Draco into a warm hug. You savor the scent of his familiar cologne and the sound of his thudding heart, wishing you could stay that way for the slightest bit longer.

Although it takes a few seconds for him to wrap his own hands around your frame, when he does, it feels nothing short of perfect. His head rests in the junction between your neck and shoulder, where you can feel each of his warm breaths stroke against your skin.

"We should go on these bookdates more often," he suggests, and with the happiest smile you tell him, "I'm not against that idea."

draco taglist — @arossebyanyothername @kawaii-angelanne @thefandomplace @yuosmi @bbeauttyybbx @mywellspringoflife @slytherinsunrise @avatarbeeb @scarlet-says-hi @lunars

#harry potter #draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco fanfiction #reader insert #draco x reader #draco x y/n

588 notes · View notes

rosesmith18 · 3 years ago

Text

(PnF) This Needs to be Said

I know this seems a bit random as I haven't post anything in awhile, but I wanted to speak on three specific topics, because they've been bothering me. I want to first say that no one has made any of the following comments directly towards me or my writing, but I still feel these things need to be said.*Disclaimer: I request anyone reading this post to hear me out before leaving a comment or turning away as these topics are serious. The Canonical Ferbnessa is NOT pedophilia: I'm not talking about all Ferbnessa stories hear just the canonical one presented in Act Your Age. I see people saying this is wrong cause it's pedophilia, and as a victim of pedophilia I can confidently say it is NOT. Is it grooming on some level? Depends on how you view their relationship before this episode, but assuming it might be is completely reasonable. But, on a completely factual level their is nothing pedophilic about this relationship. They get together when Ferb is 18 and graduated high school. Whether their age gap personally bothers you or not doesn't change the fact that Ferb, at this point, is a consenting adult and can date whoever he wants. Even if he was 16, in some states he'd still be legally allowed to date Vanessa, just not do anything sexual with her. If you have a loved one who is 16 or 18 who is in a relationship with an adult who knew them as a child, it is completely reasonable to feel uncomfortable and be concerned. You can take your kid to/suggest therapy, relationship counseling, or waiting till after high school/college, but you can NOT make the choice for them.

Thomarie is NOT incest: If you know what 'Thomarie' is then you get where this claim comes from, and it is a completely unreasonable claim. Baseline; Thomas and Marie are NOT blood related, because Phineas and Ferb are NOT blood related. Incest is illegal, because any children coming from those relationships would have basically no chance at life due to close genes. Thomas and Marie don't actually share any genes, so they could have completely viable offspring. And, for those saying; "But, Phineas and Ferb feel like brothers." So what? People feel like siblings to their friends all the time, it doesn't suddenly make them related, or make their children feel related. Secondly, to the statement; "Saying Phineas and Ferb aren't really related ruins the whole message of the show." No it doesn't. The whole message of Phineas and Ferb is right in the final song of 'Candace Against the Universe'; Us Against the Universe, 'I'm not just talkin' blood relation.' It is literally a summary of the shows entire message, which is NOT; 'If you feel related to someone you are related.' The message of the show IS; 'No matter WHAT relationship you have with some one(be it sibling, friend, romantic partner), it is a choice you make. You CHOOSE the people you care about, your blood ties or lack there of, don't/shouldn't do it for you.' And, by that logic. Thomas and Marie's relationship doesn't go against the shows message, it is instead, a PERFECT example of the shows message. It shows that no matter what your ties to someone are whether by blood or by paper, you can feel differently about anyone and everyone, attachment is not a one size fits all.

These characters are FICTIONAL: Whether Ferbnessa is pedophilia in some peoples stories, or if Thomarie is incest, at the end of the day they are fictional characters. Pedophilia and Incest is illegal, because they have a victim. All laws exist to protect a possible victim; Not to cater to your personal opinions. And, fictional characters are not real people(obviously), and because of this, there is no REAL victim in these relationships. For those saying; "It could effect the children who read these stories; They are about characters from/inspired by a kids show." Stories/Pictures have rating for a reason, they have tags for a reason, fanfiction/fanart sites have rules for a reason. If a child finds a way to stumble upon these fanfictions/pictures despite the sights rules/rating then that's not the site/writer/drawers fault, they didn't intend for it to happen. Porn sites are just as easily accessible and you can't take THEM to court when a child discovers them. And, secondly, so what if these characters are from/inspired by a kids show? A lot of people who write/draw these characters in pedophilic/incestuous/sexual ways are those kids themselves expressing themselves and exploring their sexualities with characters they are familiar/comfortable with. I started to write/read sexual things about these characters when I was nine, and have been to this day(I'm not even in my twenties yet). Don't bash kids for expressing/exploring themselves in safe ways, they have to do it eventually. And, don't bash adults who find comfort in expressing/exploring themselves with these characters, they likely grew up doing so. The Main Reason for this Post: The people saying this stuff are hurting REAL people way more than this stuff would be if it were true. First off, judging people who are 18 for dating someone quite a bit older than them is treating them like a child. Whether you feel they are ready for a relationship like that or not is no longer your choice to make. At 18 a person becomes an adult, and they can't get used to adulthood when people are still telling them that they have all the rights and mental capacity of a child. Secondly, there are people who are in romantic relationships with their step-sibling/step-cousins/kids they grew up with, and people calling these relationships gross is impinging on their rights. No one has a right to tell a person who to date when that relationship isn't hurting anyone, and I don't see how two teenagers with no blood relation, who are in the same age rang, who both can and do consent to the relationship could be hurting each other. In summary, for those who make these comments; STOP THINKING YOUR FEELINGS AND OPINIONS ARE ABOVE THE FEELINGS AND OPINIONS OF OTHERS WHEN THE LAW IS FOR PROTECTING THE PHYSICAL AND MENTAL WELL-BEING OF ALL PEOPLE, AND NOT THE FEELINGS AND OPINIONS OF THE INDIVIDUAL. The law can not pick a side in every debate, so it only picks sides when physical and mental pain is expressed, we as people have to deal with our on feeling and opinions. It isn't against the law to feel different then someone else, but it is against the law to physically/verbally harm others for feeling different than you. I want to make it clear that I am not forcing anyone to be comfortable with pedophilia/incest(in writing) or even relationships where someone is way older, or where the people in question are in a way, other than blood, related. I am simply telling those people to recognize that those are their opinions and their opinions are hurting even people they may be trying to 'help'. So, thank you for those who listened to my entire rant, and especially to those who learned something from it! If you wish to have a constructive conversation on any of the topics mentioned than I would be more than willing to listen and have a friendly debate with you, but I will not dignify simple hate with a response. Have a lovely day, evening, or night! *Ferb and Vanessa belong to Dan Povenmire & Jeff 'Swampy' Marsh *Thomas belongs to Melty64 *Marie belongs to angelus19 & sam-ely-ember

#pnf #phineas and ferb #marie and thomas #ferbnessa #thomarie #oc #ferb fletcher #vanessa doofenshmirtz #marie flynn #thomas fletcher #important topic #fandom #shippers

34 notes · View notes

moon-kn1ght · 4 years ago

Text

toes in the water

pairing: frankie morales x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: kindergarten should def be a warning, maybe also incredibly unvaried sentence structure? rated E for everyone :)

a/n: this is going to be a small series surrounding a single father frankie morales and reader who is a kindergarten teacher. semi-slow burning, super cute and will def have storage closet / after-hours classroom sex at some point. thank you @wyn-dixie for the beta and for quelling my anxieties about literally everything.

masterlist || tag form

Were you supposed to be using the kindergarten enrollment forms to sus out potential cute, single parents? No, definitely not.

But the process of going through the individual forms and comparing them to the database for possible clerical errors was tedious at best, and grueling at its worst. Sitting on those tiny kindergarten chairs, you and the other four members of your team of teachers had already rehashed all of the gossip from the summer, including how Jessica the first year teacher from the 3rd grade cohort had hooked up with that sleazy geometry teacher from the high school at the end of the year district-wide social last May.

“God, I remember when he was student teaching at the middle school,” Dora, your most senior coworker who had ‘been around the block a few times’ and also held onto every piece of gossip that circulated in your district for the last 17 years, drawled, “He had the grossest little rat mustache, you could hardly tell him apart from the 8th graders!”

The group laughs in response to that joke, always ready to make of the holier-than-thou high school teachers. “You know what?” Dora adds, “You’d think after so many years, I’d be used to these tiny fucking chairs, but I am not. I need a walk and a Diet Coke.”

“I’ll join you!” chimed Joanne, the second-oldest teacher in your cohort. The two leaders of your team left the room, leaving you, Claudia, and Andrés, the youngest teachers in the kindergarten cohort. Andrés and you had gone through your credential program together and had known each other for upwards of five years now as best friends. When the two of you arrived at Franklin Elementary, fresh out of school, Claudia had just completed her first year so she welcomed more young teachers with open arms. The three of you have been inseparable for the past several years now.

“Okay, pull out your stacks!” Andrés orders, citing your group’s earlier plan to use this menial labor to check for potential single parents. You were just looking on the forms to see who did not have both parents listed. It wasn’t a perfect system. And yeah, it was probably inappropriate but y’all were just messing around and killing time on this sweltering August day.

“I have one in my class!” you offer. “Student: Grace Miller. Parent: Susan Miller. Occupation: Landscape architect.”

“Oooo, intriguing. Love someone who works with their hands,” Claudia remarks in a silly, sultry voice. “I have one, the student is named Peter, mom is Karen. She’s an accountant.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. Karen? Yeah no thank you. Glad she’s in your class, not mine.” Andrés laughs and you join him. Kindergarten was just as much of a transition for students as it was for parents, and sometimes they took it harder than the kids. “Here’s to hoping she doesn’t live up to her name...” he continues, “Ooh, I have one! He's single dad--”

Oooh, you and Claudia purr.

“Rosalia Morales is the daughter of single dad Francisco; form says he's a small business owner,” Andrés presents this crown jewel piece of information to a round of applause from you and Claudia.

“Ugh, let’s hope he’s cute!” Claudia adds and the three of you dissolve into giggles as the older women return from their Diet Coke run.

—X—

Rosalia Morales was ready for kindergarten. Frankie Morales, on the other hand, was not.

The younger Morales had spent the first weeks of August carefully preparing for this new (and very important) chapter in her life. She carefully deliberated over decisions like what backpack and lunchbox to get from Target (she chose a matching Sofia the First set, so that it could be a topic of conversation for her and her potential new friends at school) to what she was instructing her father to pack in her lunchbox (no PB&J’s in case her new friends were allergic, she wanted to be able to sit at the same lunch table with them and not have these seminal weeks defined by the separation of Peanut vs Peanut free lunches). Rosalia was very meticulous, and she always had been. She was well-prepared to face all the challenges kindergarten wanted to throw at her.

While Rosalia had spent weeks preparing, Frankie had spent weeks dreading the imminent separation from his favorite person in the universe. Yes, he had sent Rosalia to preschool and pre-K but those had all been half-day programs. He would drop her off on his way to work and then pick her up at lunchtime. That only meant four hours apart but full-day Kindergarten was drop-off at 7:45am and pick up at 3:30pm. Seven and a half hours. How am I going to do it? he thought to himself.

—X—

At Franklin, they implemented a very specific first day schedule. Parents walked their kids to their classrooms to hang up their bags, then the students got to go play on the playground while the parents left. The older teachers designed this system to reinforce to the students that school = fun. Yes, of course there were always students who had a rougher first day, but it usually took a couple of hours for the fatigue to set in before the students realized how long the day (and year was going to be).

This system most importantly allowed for a clean break with the parents, a solid ‘goodbye!’ point that the teachers could enforce. But, always, there were some straggler parents (either loitering inside, near the front door or in their cars in the parking lot). The administrative team would let the indoor stragglers know that it was time to leave, but they would have two of the teachers go into the parking lot to make sure all the parents had cleared out.

This year, you and Claudia had pulled those short straws, so while the rest of your team monitored the early recess, you two roamed the parking lot with reassuring waves and “I’m sorry, it’s district policy, you have to leave the parking lot after drop off.” Everyone usually took it graciously—it’s like ripping off a band-aid, it’s better to just get it done.

You had almost cleared the lot of loitering vehicles when you came upon an older, red truck with a man inside it. His window was down so you began to speak to him a little before he noticed you, causing him to jump.

“Hi, I'm one of the teachers in the Kindergarten cohort," you say as you run your bare left hand through your hair. “Are you a parent?”

As he turns to look at you, you can notice that even with his cap pulled low, he has definitely been crying a little. “Hey, yes sorry. I’m Frankie Morales, Rosalia’s dad,” the man stammers, “I’m sorry, I know the policy, I think I’m just having a little bit of separation anxiety.” HIs brown eyes look a little bloodshot as he gives you a half-hearted smile.

You search his face and see no traces of dishonesty, this is just a man very nervous to be sending his kid to school. And a cute one at that too. Claudia called it, you think.

Before you can let your mind wander too far about this stranger, you have to say something. “Mr. Morales...” you start.

“Please call me Frankie. Mr. Morales is my dad,” he interjects nervously.

“Okay, Frankie,” you say. “I understand how nerve-wracking sending your kid to school can be. I may not be a parent myself, but I can empathize. But I can also offer to you that in my years in kindergarten, I’ve never seen a student not adjust to the classroom,” you offer.

“But I also understand that our anxieties can be irrational and don’t like when presented with things that might undermine them. So it’s okay to still be nervous or anxious right now,” you add. “Do you think there’s something that I could do to help you feel better about leaving school property in the next ten minutes or so?” you smile a little to help this last bit come off as nice as possible.

“I…” he mumbles, “I… I’m not sure, my parental intuition is telling me that something will happen in the middle of the day and it’ll take me too long to get here, which I know isn’t going to happen but… I’m worried that I won’t be able to be enough for her”

“You worry because you care, and I can already tell that you care about her a lot. Hey, like I said, our worries don’t have to be rational to get at us.”

“She’s just all I have, she’s the center of my universe,” he adds. With this, you can see the shift in his eyes, from worry to love. You can tell that he loves his daughter with his whole heart.

“Rosalia is in Andrés', I mean, Mr. Gonzales’s class, right?”

“Yeah, she is.”

“I think I might have a solution, a little band-aid just for today,” you bid and Frankie looks hopeful. “This is very much against district policy so you have to promise not to tell on me.”

He laughs with this, and promises not to tell. “How about I give you my phone number, and any time that your fatherly intuition is telling you that something bad is going to happen, you can text me and then I’ll peek across the hall to Rosalia’s classroom, and I can factually assure you that nothing bad is happening?”

Frankie actually smiles, for the first time in this whole conversation, “That would be great,” he says.

—X—

As you knew would happen, the day passed without incident. Frankie didn’t even text you, which you felt good about. But also a little sad because you wanted to start a little texting thing with this single dad. But you knew it would be a little inappropriate, in your heart of hearts.

After all the students get picked up, Claudia and Andrés migrate into your classroom.

“Don’t you think the first day of school calls for a celebratory drink out this afternoon?” Andrés probes. He always was down for happy hour (and to be truthful, you were too). “We should go to the brewery down the road, they have some nice outdoor seating.”

“I’m in,” you state, “And I may or may not have some other good news..” you tease.

“What? What good news could have happened in a room full of 6 year-olds?” Claudia jokes.

“Y’all can’t tell anyone but I got the phone number of that single dad from Andrés’s class,” you say as quickly as you can.

Claudia and Andrés both break into shrieks with this news.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe our prowling on the enrollment forms WORKED!!” Andrés exclaims.

“He was nervous at drop off so I gave him my number but he didn’t end up texting me, so nothing will probably ever come of it. But still, small win in my book.”

Claudia throws her head back, “You deserve all the wins you get, whatever happens, we’re psyched for you.”

Later, during happy hour you check your phone and notice a new text from an unsaved number.

Hey, thanks for your help this morning, having this line of communication made me feel a lot better. Rosalia had a great day today. -Frankie

You try to keep your facial expressions minimal as you read the message. They don’t need to know about this, you think to yourself before shooting back a quick message.

That makes me so happy Frankie. Feel free to reach out whenever you need! About whatever :)

You add that last line hastily and hit send. I can thank this liquid courage for that, you think as you down the rest of your pint.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier fic #slow burn incoming baby #my writing #di writes #oH MY finally something i'm actually writing instead of just talking about writing

128 notes · View notes

fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Debate

Read on AO3

Written for Timari January Day 29 - Debate Competition

@timari-month-event

Marinette had always had a gift with words. The ability to use her words to convince people to do what she wanted came naturally to her. At the age of five, Marinette convinced her kindergarten teacher to take their whole class to get ice cream. At the age of thirteen, she joined her first debate team and was a crucial part of the winning debate that got her team third place in Regionals. Two years later, she was the captain of her high school debate team, and they were competing all over France. Two years after that, in her last year of high school, Marinette's team qualified for an international debate competition that took them all around the world. The championship debate, between Francois Dupont Academy and Gotham Academy, was to be held in Gotham.

Marinette had faith in her team that they would win. The team of ten debaters practiced every afternoon for months, led by Marinette and her co-captain Lila.

Lila had been an unexpected addition to the team, given that Marinette and Lila had gotten off to a bad start when Lila first joined her class. However, after witnessing Lila so thoroughly convince the class of a lie so outrageous that Marinette could hardly believe that anyone with half a brain would see right through it, Marinette realized that Lila's skills could be put to good use. Marinette offered the Italian girl a deal. If Lila joined the debate team and promised to never use her lies to cause direct harm, Marinette would no longer call her out of her harmless lies. Lila agreed, and quickly became one of their key debaters.

Over time, Lila started lying less and less, as she realized that she didn't need to lie to make friends. Two years after the first joined the debate team, Lila stayed after practice and offered Marinette a deal. Lila would never lie again if Marinette made her co-captain of the debate team. In full faith, Marinette agreed. She had seen the change in Lila and knew that there was a chance that they might even become friends.

"How's practice going?" asked Marinette as Lila joined her at the front of the classroom. Marinette was going over the paperwork for their upcoming championship debate while Lila was running practice. Their team members were hard at work: Aurore and Mireille were debating net neutrality, Kagami and Ivan were debating the right to own firearms, Sabrina and Nathanial were debating the morality of abortion, and Max and Marc were debating the ethics of medically assisted suicide.

"It's going well. I have everyone partnered up, working on either the affirmative or negative position. Then they'll split into either the research group or the public speaking group, based on what skills they need to improve on."

Marinette smiled. "We're going to win this, I just know it."

Lila gave her a devious smile back. "As if I would let us lose."

---

In the hallway of the Gotham Grand Hotel, outside of the ballroom where the debate tournament was being held, Marinette fed US dollar bills into a vending machine. "Diet coke is... A7." Marinette pressed the button and waited as the machine refused to give her the drink. "Are you serious?" sighed Marinette.

"Need some help?" asked a dark-haired boy in a sweater with an iron-on patch reading Gotham Preparatory Academy Debate Team. He was cute, in a nerdy kind of way. Nerdy wasn't Marinette's usual type, but she could see the appeal with the boy in front of her.

"I gave the machine my money but it won't give me my drink, and my debate - our debate, actually - starts in just a few minutes."

"I'll let you in on a secret. You aren't supposed to shake it, but if you do it anyway..." the boy shook the machine, and Marinette's diet coke tumbled down into the tray below.

Marinette smiled. "Thank you! I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, by the way. I'm co-captain of the team from Françoise Dupont."

"Timothy Drake, but you can call me Tim. I look forward to seeing you debate."

"Thanks, you too." Marinette watched as Tim turned and left, jogging to catch up with one of his teammates, a blonde girl who glanced over towards Marinette with a knowing smile on her face. Any other day, Marinette would have spent a little more of her attention on Tim, but today she knew she had to focus. Marinette had a debate to win.

---

"We live in a world facing an incredible number of challenges. However, there is one challenge that often sticks out among the rest as the most pressing issue, with much debate over its severity. Is climate change the greatest threat facing humanity today? Collège Françoise Dupont, you will be arguing the affirmative. Gotham Preparatory Academy, you will be arguing the negative.

Kagami and Max went up first, two excellent debaters, and while the students from Gotham were certainly good, they were no match for Kagami and Max. Kagami had the self-assured confidence to never show any doubt about the validity of her claims and Max had the raw knowledge to win any debate through the sheer amount of factual evidence he could bring to the table. The first round went to Kagami and Max, giving Françoise Dupont a strong start.

As Marinette high-fived Kagami and Max, she caught a glimpse of Tim out of the corner of her eye. He was staring at her with a look on his face that Marinette couldn't quite decipher - confusion or frustration or some mix of the two. Either way, Marinette didn't particularly enjoy being stared at. She met his eyes and stared right back, narrowing her eyes. Tim looked away, a slight flush to his face. Marinette was left feeling more confused than anything else. Why was Tim staring at her, and why with such an odd look on his face?

Three more rounds of debate followed, with wins alternating between Collège Françoise Dupont and Gotham Academy. The schools were tied two and two by the final round, but Marinette couldn't quite stay focused on the debate. The only thing she could focus on was Tim. Watching him in her periphery, Marinette could see him having a heated exchange with one of the girls on his team, the blonde that Marinette had noticed earlier.

"Focus, Marinette!" hissed Lila. "This is the final round, and you and I are up."

The announcer stepped up to the microphone to announce the topic of debate. "This topic has been in the news a lot these past few weeks, with the introduction of the Superhero Registration Act. Though most news sources consider it unlikely that the bill will pass, it raises the question which you will be debating today: Should the government have a larger role in regulating the actions of vigilante superheroes? Gotham Preparatory Academy, you will be arguing the affirmative. Françoise Dupont, you will be arguing the negative."

Marinette shared a look with Lila, who was already smirking. "No way we lose this one," Lila mouthed.

Marinette nodded, narrowing her eyes at the opposing team. Even if Tim was cute, there was no way she was losing.

The affirmative started the debate, meaning that the team from Gotham spoke first. Stephanie Brown, Tim's blonde teammate from earlier, began with a lecture about a lack of accountability associated with vigilante justice. It was a flimsy argument if you knew where to poke holes in it. Luckily, that was what Marinette was best at.

"It's been universally accepted that superheroes are a necessary part of our current culture. The one job a superhero has is to save as many lives as possible. How are they supposed to complete that one job if there is constant government restriction and intervention? We've all watched for years as superheroes operated outside of the government - this is because superheroes don't need to be regulated. In addition, I would like to ask: in what way do superheroes need to be more accountable? Our world has seen time and time again that the superhero community keeps itself in check. When one superhero starts to stray from the path of good, they are held accountable by their fellow superheroes."

The debate continued, back and forth between Marinette, Tim, Lila, and Stephanie. With bated breath, Marinette waited for the results of the round to be announced.

"The final round goes to... Collège Françoise Dupont!"

"We did it!" cheered Marinette, as she got up to congratulate her teammates. She celebrated with the rest of her team but still couldn't shake her odd feeling about Tim Drake. Something wasn't right with him, and Marinette was going to figure out what it was.

There was a celebratory banquet after the competition, in which the awards would be given out and the organizers would give their speeches. As Marinette entered the banquet hall she was Tim slip out of the banquet hall and into the hallway at the other side of the room. She made the snap decision to follow him, maneuvering herself through crowds of people until she got to the right exit.

As Marinette turned down the hallway, she caught Tim whispering into his phone in the hallway. As soon as Tim caught sight of her he quickly hung up his phone and shoved it in his pocket. Marinette approached him, eyes narrowing. "Why were you staring at me?"

Tim glanced around to see if anyone else was around, then blurted out, "You're Ladybug."

Marinette froze. That was not what she expected to hear. "I- I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You're the Parisian superhero, Ladybug. It all makes sense - black hair, blue eyes, same approximate height and weight. You're incredibly passionate about superheroes - that's what tipped me off in the first place. To top it all off, you're from the same school that Ladybug has a nearly instantaneous response time for dealing with akumas that arise out of it. I didn't see anyone on your team who fit the profile of Chat Noir, but I guarantee that if I were to snoop around online I could find a picture of you with a blonde-haired green-eyed boy." Tim's rapid-fire analysis left Marinette with no chance to refute his claims.

"You figured all of that out during our hour-long debate tournament?"

Tim nodded slowly. "I'm a bit of a detective, myself. In fact, compared to some of my other detective work, figuring out that you were a superhero was easy."

"You're the first person to ever deduce that I'm Ladybug - including my friends, parents, and Chat Noir himself - and all you have to say for yourself is that it was easy?" exclaimed Marinette.

Tim shrugged awkwardly, seeming to have no words to defend himself. Or perhaps it was because he didn't trust himself to say anything, because he had already revealed more than he had intended to. At that point, Marinette started to make her own deductions. The ease at which he had figured out that she was Ladybug. The fact that he had alluded to making other deductions comparable to figuring out Marinette's Ladybug secret. His knowledge of Ladybug - a minor superhero from across the globe - to the extent that he knew not only her approximate height and weight but her reaction times for akumatizations in different areas of Paris. The pieces started coming together in Marinette's mind. Her eyes narrowed as she accused, "You're a superhero too, Timothy Drake. Or, at the very least, you've worked with superheroes before."

Tim took the accusation even less gracefully than Marinette did, shaking his head rapidly as he backed up a few paces. "You have no idea what you're talking about. I have no idea what you're talking about. Me? A superhero? No way!" Tim ended his babbling with a nervous laugh.

Marinette smiled pleasantly, pleased with herself. Although it wasn't ideal that a stranger knew her secret identity, she now knew that Tim wouldn't be spilling her secret to anyone, not when Marinette had the exact same dirt on him. "I'll see you around, Tim." Marinette whipped around and started to walk away.

"Wait, wait, wait! Marinette!" Tim called out.

Marinette tried to suppress the smile on her face as she walked back into the banquet hall. She was beginning to like Tim, and she could tell that this wouldn't be the last she saw of him. Now, all she had to do was get on even footing with him. Perhaps, by figuring out his secret identity. Which, Marinette figured, wouldn't be too difficult. After all, how many superheroes could Gotham possibly have?

(Cut to: Marinette, back at her hotel room, trying to tell the different members of the Batfamily apart. "How do they all have black hair and blue eyes? How is that even possible?")

#maribat #timari #timinette #timari january #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Tim Drake #one-shot #miraculous ladybug fanfic #fanfic #my work

174 notes · View notes

nerdygaymormon · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, uncle David! No pressure to answer this one if you don’t want to—I just think it might be helpful to me and others who are trying to feel comfortable in our identities as queer people and children of God.

Lately I’ve felt deeply ashamed of myself because I worry I’m not as accepting or open minded of a person as I thought I was. I’m genderfluid and queer in other ways, all my friends are queer, and I love other queer people; I feel a bond with them. We understand each other in many ways. I guess that’s why we’re called a community.

But lately, I’ve noticed I still have a lot of internalized homophobia and transphobia that I thought I had worked through. Much of this homophobia and transphobia is due to my upbringing in the church and the fact that I am a devoted believer in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

I catch myself thinking things I’m ashamed to think. Thinking that God really does disapprove of who I am. Thinking that maybe I’m willingly defying Him and just “convincing myself” that this is who I really am. I find myself worrying that I don’t truly believe that God loves or approves of queer people (or their actions) like I tell myself I do, despite the fact that I AM queer.

I guess what I’m saying is: factually, I believe that LGBTQ+ people are valid and that we should be able to live authentically. Science has shown us that being trans, gay, etc. is completely natural and that people all throughout history were also queer. I know for a fact that queer people are real and they deserve happiness and healthy lives. (i.e. I don’t think gay people should have to live a life without romance/marriage). But I have been raised with ideologies that have been drilled into me so deeply that now, despite all the facts I know (science-wise and from experience), I still have these internal biases. I still catch myself thinking that “acting on” being gay/trans is a sin even though I don’t think it should be considered one because we know that repressing queerness is very harmful to queer people’s mental health.

I was wondering: have you ever experienced something similar? And if so, how did you overcome it?

All my love <3

I grew up in an oppressive environment, US society was decidedly anti-gay, as was the church that I attended. I heard many messages that gay is bad and I took those messages in, over and over and over.

I grew up believing gay as a bad thing and wanting desperately to change my sexual orientation.

The first step is to understand what internalized homophobia is, that it's something you experience, and be willing to work on this.

Another step is to identify ways that internalized homophobia affects you. You already listed some things, but here's some other ways it may affect you. Such as wishing you didn't have these attractions, trying to make them go away, feeling like your attractions are a defect, trying to make yourself feel attracted to people of the opposite sex, avoiding other queer people.

One of the best ways to work on overcoming internalized homophobia is to spend time with other queer people. I've used Meetup.com to find groups of gay people going to the movie, to an artwalk, and different sorts of activities. I feel so normal after spending time with other queer people.

Do some things to build your self-esteem and that pushes away the shame. I made a list of my good qualities, I also got a new wardrobe, buying things I wouldn't have allowed myself to consider before. Some people leave themselves positive notes. Another idea is to get facials or massages to help you feel good in your body.

One thing my therapist kept suggesting is to eliminate sources of homophobia in my life. I have found that a hard thing to do. I got myself job at a university which is queer friendly. I can be as out as I want to be.

While I eliminated some people from my life, I didn't push away my parents, and church also is still source of anti-gay influence.

I try to limit the bad influence by drawing boundaries on some of the things I'm willing to discuss with my parents, and avoiding classes or talks at church if I know they'll be discussing queer topics. Also, there's supportive people at church, find them and hang out with them.

Another important thing I do is I replace negative messages with positive ones. If I'm brave enough to speak up in Sunday School, then that's one way. If I'm not brave enough, I at least will whisper a positive message to myself to replace the negative one I heard.

When someone makes a joke at the expense of gay people, I point out that I don't appreciate it. I'm happy with jokes, but not ones that demean gay people.

And finally, one of the most important things I did was meet with a therapist.

You already have made a great start, understanding that queer people have always existed, are entitled to rights, that being queer is a normal, natural thing. Your brain is in the right place and your heart needs to catch up.

I hope you'll find some of these suggestions useful as you move forward.

#internalized homophobia #long post

29 notes · View notes

coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years ago

Text

A chatty writing update | novels, short fiction, etc!

Hi folks!

It’s been a while since I last wrote an update on this blog! I thought it’d be fun to go back to basics, and just talk about writing. This post chats about: new plans for Feeding Habits, my newest novel, my short story goals & growing collection, along with process reflections.

(image description: a photo of green leaves with the text “writing update” in a white font written on top. /end image description)

Post starts under the cut!

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed)

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting, @aetherwrites, @avakrahn, @maisulli

What have I been up to?

For starters, I finished my second year of my Writing undergrad last week and got two of my final grades back today (A+ baby)! For anyone who has taken online university, y’all already KNOW, but this year was so difficult. Would not recommend! Really proud of myself to have gotten through this absolute rollercoaster of a school term and am excited to get into some writing. That leads us to:

What have I been up to (writing edition)?

2021 started off so fast. By the time January hit, I was so consumed in my new semester that I did not have time to write Feeding Habits (my novel). In the first few days of the term, I managed to write between class, until I could no longer keep up! Essentially, I did not write any of that novel until exam season (last week), where I did manage to get in about 3k words in ~4 days.

Feeding Habits

I’m currently drafting what I believe will be the last chapter of this book (chapter 10: Swan Song). This chapter is so bizarre for a few reasons. It begins the book’s third part and also marks the shift back into Lonan’s head from Harrison’s. I originally thought this part would be much, much longer, with at least another five chapters to go, but quickly realized the book’s content was nearly completed. In my 4 day 3k palooza, I hit 50k in the book (the word count goal), and couldn’t see myself extending past 60k. Since then, I’ve made the loose decision to write this final chapter as a ~novella. Here are a few reasons why:

1. This chapter is structurally very strange.

I unashamedly shift from present to past to present to past past, and so much more every 12 words. I mapped out the timeline on a sheet of paper, and there were over 20 shifts in scenes (the chapter is only about 4400 words at the moment). The fictive past is incredibly important to this chapter, more important than the present, and I thought it would make more sense to not break randomly for a chapter so I could upkeep the consistent inconsistency of the chapter.

2. The chapter is very abstract

This stems from the structural changes, but there are paragraphs in this chapter of the fictive present that are loosely based in reality. They’re more poems than they are factual paragraphs, and keeping them all contained in one place (so a mega chapter/ novella) would reduce the most confusion!

3. There’s not much left to cover

Like I said above, Feeding Habits is on its last leg, lol! I know exactly where the book needs to end up, which is very, very soon from where I’m currently at on the timeline. Swan Song should cover what 2-4 chapters would cover in terms of arcs.

Feeding Habits and I have a really weird relationship, tbh! When I realized a few weeks ago that it’d been over a year since I started the book, I realized I just needed to finish it. Not that I want to rush (because I’ve taken longer than a year to write a book in the past), but that in order to move onto another project, I’d like to put this one behind first. This book has been the hardest thing I’ve ever written, and has reminded me there’s always a time to let go. This sort of scrounges up a conversation about letting this entire series go, which is certainly something I’ve been contemplating doing soon(ish). If this spinoff series gets a third book, that may or may not be the last Fostered book for a very long time (or ever)! There are many complex reasons to move on, but the main one is that I have other projects I’d like to focus on. This is not a definitive decision, but something I’ve certainly been thinking about!

Here are a few excerpts I wrote recently:

(TW: death, gore)

Dying feels like being a trout dangled out of water. Clinging to a hook. Mouth open. Scales iridescent in a final death cry. It’s like blood spurting up the knuckles, drowning out the flesh. It’s that moment on the long fall down when the clouds cup the body. Easy drifting. The sound a skull makes when it cracks is really just the afterthought.

(TW: death, gore)

Kill shot. Death blow. Coup de grace. Right in the heart. He feels it. The blood swelling, slicking his palms. He can do it. Reach into the cavity. Feel for the ribs. Part each bone. Then cup the humming heart. Stay there. Right. It’s never been easier.

Look at this PURE moment of Lonan holding a baby I CANNOT:

The grocery store was a fifteen-minute walk away. With Olivia clinging to his shoulder, Lonan was acutely aware that she could feel his heartbeat. Open valve. Close. Repeat. Hers pulsed right above his, a miniature drumming. The sky had bruised purple, misted with clouds. The evening air nipped his cheeks, so he made sure Olivia was securely fastened between him and his jacket. With wide eyes, she absorbed the drowsy suburbia, all its family cars pulling into driveways, all its couples heading back home after a sunset walk. When Lonan passed a young boy walking two golden retrievers, Olivia giggled, and didn’t stop, even after he’d spent fifty dollars on groceries and nearly the rest on a red Corolla marked with a MUST GO NOW sign outside a convenience store.

Let’s move on!

Mandy and Cora

I said I wouldn’t talk too much about this project, but I just love it so much?? I wanted to share my SUPER early thoughts on drafting a novel, especially one that is SO different from what I’ve been writing recently. I talked about this before in THIS post, but the summary about this project is that it’s a YA contemporary novel! Can’t believe I’m writing YA again, it’s been so long, but I also think it’s going so well. Everything I’ve learned as a literary fiction writer has been a fantastic primer for transferring back to the genre. Admittedly, I have not written much, but I’m having a lot of fun diving back into a lighter project. This is the summary:

Cora and Mandy are identical twins who’ve always done everything together. But when Mandy decides to go to university out of province after graduation and Cora doesn’t, Cora takes this as an opportunity to “test run” life apart from her sister for the first time by spending the summer at her aunt’s house across the country.

I have come up with a few ~things since I last talked about this project, mostly how I’d like to structure it. As of now, I’d like the book to be structured super loosely. I’m really pulling on a lot of inspo from “We Are Okay” by Nina LaCour (which is SO good), particularly how “nothing happens-y” that book is. This project (which I still need a title for!!) will be structured in short chapters that cover something Cora does on her own for the first time (without Mandy). For example, a few ideas are “Flight”, “Lunch”, and “Groceries”. “Flight” is the first “chapter” (they’re really kind of vignettes) where Cora flies to her aunt’s house. I still can’t determine if this book will take place in Canada. On one hand, I feel like there will be a wider audience if it takes place in the US (is that just an assumption??? maybe?? someone let me know!), but also: don’t really care too much about an audience at the moment! It could also take place in Canada (So Ontario and British Columbia). But if it does take place in the US, I think it may take place in NYC and San Francisco. The problem is: I really don’t like researching lol, and while I’ve been to NYC many times, I will definitely write it wrong! Does this really matter on a first draft?? absolutely not lol, but of course I am already overthinking!

But back to structure: I am looking forward to seeing what this looser structure will do. This is a story that is solely around one half of a set of twins learning to be her own person (and ultimately that she doesn’t have to completely forget her sister in order to do that), and as a twin who KNOWS this feeling, I think this structure of her doing things for the first time is SUPER relatable.

I was worried it might sound silly/worrying to others who are not twins that Cora hadn’t done things like “lunch” or “groceries” on her own, but I feel this so much as an identical twin myself! Not that she hasn’t done anything at all by herself, but as a twin, when you do something without your twin for the first few times, at least in my experience, you notice. If any twins are reading this--weigh in!

This story is the most personal thing I’ve ever written. It definitely is an OwnVoices book! Usually, I avoid details that are remotely similar to me because they make me uncomfortable haha, but with this book, it’s all me, lol! The characters are all Guyanese, which is SO fun because I’ve been planning what they eat (my fellow Caribbean peeps know: the FOOD!), which is so fun (yes they have pumpkin and shrimp, yes they have roti, yes they have pera, yes they have mithai). Every time I’ve gone to dabble at this book, or even think about it, I get incredibly emotional for this reason? I don’t exactly know why. I think this is a story I just so want to tell, with the culture I love SO much that I definitely struggled to love as a child. This is reclamation bitchessss!

Not going to lie tho: the prospect of writing ~a book~ is kind of freaky! I’m going to make the minimum word count for this book pretty short (50k) and see where it goes from there. I think I will focus on this project this summer! Originally I was going to write a literary novel this summer, but I think this one’s calling my name!

Here’s a pretty rough excerpt:

Try. I remind myself that’s what I’m doing after the flight attendant fills me a disposable cup of Coca Cola and all I can think of is Mandy and I shoving Mentos into a bottle of the stuff when we were twelve. Just me, wedged in the middle seat between an exchange student heading out for summer break and a middle-aged woman sipping a cocktail, thinking of Mandy and I bursting whole oranges in a blender when we were bored one Winter break as the plane dips through a wave of turbulence. Mandy and I dying our hair neon green with highlighters (didn’t work—our hair is too dark) as the plane lands on the tarmac. Mandy and I arguing so loud last month, we both lost our voices as I lug my carry-on out of the overhead compartment and shuffle off the plane and through the airport, searching for Aunt Vel.

Short Fiction

I’ve written so much short fiction this year! I have a goal to write a short story a month (they can range in length, as long as 1 is “complete”), so my short story brain has seriously been soaking it all up lately. Let’s chat my month to month breakdown so far:

January:

I wrote four stories in January! The first is a flash fiction piece called “Shark Swimming” that follows a young woman who attends a shark swimming class after breaking up with her girlfriend. I wrote this story for a “test” workshop for my fiction class, and it was based off the prompt “think about something you’re afraid to do and make the character do that thing”. I’m not particularly afraid of sharks, but had been wanting to use the title “Shark Swimming” for AGES (literally since 2018).

This story is one of my favourites. It’s only about 900 words, but I think there’s something profound in how mundanely specific it is. The entire story doesn’t even see the narrator swim with sharks once; it actually takes place fully in the sanctuary’s lobby. But I really love this narrator. This is the first story I’ve written in second person in a while, though I felt really connected to the unnamed narrator. She struggles with accepting that she truly is a “boring” person, and there’s something about the final image that really gets me!

I’ve been submitting this around, though it’s been rejected a handful of times. Hoping I can secure it at a magazine one day because I really love it!

The second story is “Joanne, I’ll Pray for You” which is actually a rewrite of one of my very first short stories (the first story I did not write for a class haha), “NYC in Your Apartment”. I LOVE this rewrite a lot, and also learned the original is not a very good short story! Revising this story taught me just how much I’ve learned in the 2 years I’ve been writing short fiction. Seeing the 2019 version versus the 2021 version side by side is fascinating because I essentially “gutted’ the 2019 version of its beginning and end until all that was left was the middle of the story (aka the actual story). AKA: this is the only story I’ve ever written with a hopeful ending and I cut out all the happy bits lol I am SO sorry (that arc is more for a novel or novella). That’s how this went from a 5k word story to an 1800 word story (my Submittable thanks me for this lol). A lot of details and scenes I included were more pertinent to a 3 act structure/novel, which of course short stories don’t often have because of their brevity. I love rambling about writing theory, and seeing that actually pay off is so fascinating!

(TW: trauma)

Like the original, this story follows Joanne, a woman in her early twenties, who spontaneously breaks up with her boyfriend. She claims the poltergeist haunting her drove her to this decision. The original draft focused a lot more on the traumatic events Joanne survives, but this draft really loosens them up. It focuses less so on the events themselves, and more on how Joanne’s life is affected. I found the details of these events were less important, and even sort of contradicted Joanne’s insistence she is being haunted. Instead, the poltergeist really takes more precedence in the new draft as a force Joanne doesn’t understand. That ambiguity, I think, is what the story truly needed.

I also centralized Joanne’s relationship with her boyfriend, Julian, here. Now don’t get me wrong, I really didn’t add anything to this draft. It was a matter of trimming the fat around it to leave the lean “meat” in the centre. But by removing that fat, I was able to emphasize what was most important here, and that was her relationship. Julian always played a really big role in the original draft, but I feel like his role as both a friend and partner to Joanne is much more emphasized since this draft literally is only two scenes now. Because there is less, there is more room for Joanne to reflect, which I’m happy about!

A final change I made was the setting and therefore the title. The original, which was “NYC in Your Apartment,” I couldn’t keep because I shifted the setting to Toronto (this is how I originally saw it, but in 2019 I just?? couldn’t?? write?? canlit??), and “Toronto in Your Apartment” sounded sort of gross LOL. The new title comes from a line in the story which I think is more relevant to the themes!

The next short story I wrote in January was “How to Spell Alpaca.” This one is super fun because I wrote it SO fast (in about 15 minutes or so). THIS is the writing update if you’re interested in learning more. I talked extensively about this one in that update, but some developments are that I dove into an edit a few weeks ago to really understand the core of the story. I’m still not quite there (this is just an intuitive feeling; I know not everything has “clicked), but I am really intrigued by the two mothers in the story, the narrator, and her newfound acquaintance, Violet. Both really struggle to understand their place as mothers (the narrator even declares she isn’t a mother anymore). The narrator, who is in her 50s, sees herself in Violet, who is much younger (~20s), and so she views Violet’s relationship with her daughter in a cautionary, yet mournful way, like she can see it will end up like her own relationship with her daughter, despite wanting the opposite. This is a really subtle story. I feel like if you blink, you’ll miss the message. But I think it’s compelling for that reason. It’s really a portrait of parenting and how to grapple with mistakes you may make that inevitably affect your children. Wow just unlocked the theme writing this lol.

The final story I wrote in January is “The Party,” which may be in my top 3 faves I’ve ever written. This story follows Aida, a recent divorcee in her ~40s. The day her divorce turns official, she moves into a new house and receives a party invitation addressed to the previous homeowner, yet RSVP’s anyway. At this party, she’s hoping to find some sense of noticeability, having struggled with being nondescript her whole life. Things seem quite normal at the party, until it gets bizarre.

I LOVE this story, y’all. Like “How to Spell Alpaca” it really delves into motherhood. Aida, our narrator, is incredibly hurt after her divorce. She now lives farther from her children she struggled to feel connected to in the first place, and doesn’t really know how to reignite her life. This party is a means to do that. This is the first story I’ve written that contains a “twist” which is strange because I really prefer stories that give us as much info as possible upfront, but yes, this one sort of twists.

February

I wrote one story in February, and that was “Protect the Young.” This title is SO changing when I think of a new one because it’s thematically incorrect, haha, but this story follows a woman in her late 40s whose daughter, Lindy, announces she is married the same day all their backyard chickens turn up dead. The discovery of dead chickens prompts our narrator to recall her ex-husband’s murder and the role her daughter may have played in his death.

I love this story so much! I think this would make a great closing for my short story collection. It just has that vibe! I wrote this for my second fiction workshop. I thought I had to hand in the story a week earlier than I had to, so I panicked and wrote this in one sitting! Little did I know, I did not need to do that lol but I’m very happy because this story is so fun. We get to learn more about Arnold (her ex), his relationship with Lindy, and how that translates to Lindy’s relationship with her new husband, Malcolm. I LOVE true crime (I listen to about 3-4 hours of case coverage daily), and this is my first “true crime” story. Because of that, I’m very sus of a few details that probably wouldn’t slide in actual investigatory work, so I’ll also be working on that in a revision. My professor also gave me a great suggestion that may alter the story’s structure a bit, though I look forward to toggling with it in the future.

March

In March, I was really on a Criminal Minds kick lol. I’ve been watching this show since I was seven (oops), and dove into a rewatch since it hit Disney+! This story, “Where to Run When the Lamb Roars,” is very clearly Rachel watching 5 episodes of CM a day. Oops! We follow 14-year-old Astrid as she and her older half brother kidnap a young girl to sacrifice for their yearly ritual.

I knew a few things going into this story, but the main thing was that I did NOT want to show any details of a potential murder (if one even occurs). I really wanted to keep all of those elements off the page because this story is not about those events, but about Astrid’s relationship with her brother. They are a murderous duo, with Astrid actually being the dominant partner. I wanted to explore that. I knew her brother, Fox, was more of a submissive partner in their team, even when he used to do this same thing with his father when he was much younger (chilling!), and so it was a task to explore how this young girl’s desire for violence works. The end actually comes right before the story starts, one could say, but I like it for this reason. It really made me contemplate the story by the time I finished it, and helped me examine what it really was about versus what it appeared to be about.

April

(TW: sexual content, non explicit)

I was so busy this month! Who knows if I’ll write a story last minute, but I did write one story this month called “Five Times Fast.” I wrote this during a “writing sprint” that was being hosted at a flash fiction workshop I recently took with one of my favourite writers ever, K-Ming Chang. I learned so much from this class, and am so happy I came out of it with a draft! This story is just over 300 words, so the shortest flash I’ve ever written, but I’m really happy with it. It was based off the prompt “describe the last time you or your character was naked.” In this case, the narrator has a “friends with benefits” relationship with Ricky who works at a laundromat. This story highlights a moment in this relationship (and also Ricky’s goofy personality lol). I really like it! Hopefully I’ll submit it to some magazines soon.

My short story collection

Very briefly I wanted to touch on my short story collection which I’ve titled “She is Also Dead.” I’ve been meaning to make a blog post on this, so look out for that in the coming months, but this collection is already at around 35k words (about 14 stories so far). The collection also surprisingly has a solid amount of flash fiction which is kind of fun! There’s definitely a range here, which is what I personally love in short story collections.

I feel very professional now that I have a ~collection chart. This is her:

(image description: A chart with the title “She is Also Dead.” It is broken into four columns: Story, Status, Word Count, and Published. Entry 1 - Story: Slaughter the Animal. Status: Revisions, Word Count, 3982, Published: N/A. Entry 2 - Story: Joanne, I’ll Pray for You, Status: Polished, Word Count: 1809, Published: N/A. Entry 3 - Story: Primary Organs, Status: Published, Word Count: 2342, Published: The Malahat Review. Entry 4 - Story: Faberge, Status, Polished, Word Count: 619, Published: N/A. Entry 5 - Story: The Wolf-Antelope Will Not Come for Us, Status, Polished, Word Count: 1556, Published: filling Station (forthcoming). Entry 6 - Story: How to Spell Alpaca, Status: revisions, Word Count: 1327, Published: N/A. Entry 7 - Story: Blink Twice for Final Judgement, Status: Polished, Word Count: 6572, Published: N/A. Entry 8 - Story: The Species is Dead, Status: Published, Word Count: 1208, Published: Minola Review. Entry 9 - Story: Shark Swimming, Status: Polished, Word Count: 907, Published: N/A. Entry 10 - Story: The Party, Status, Polished, Word Count 2339, Published: N/A. Entry 11 - Story: Fig, Status: Polished, Word Counter: 947, Published: N/A. Entry 12 - Story: Protect the Young, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 4128, Published: N/A. Entry 13 - Story: Where to Run When the Lamb Roars, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 2174, Published: N/A. Entry 14 - Story: Phantom Limbs, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 4844, Published: N/A.) /end image description.

This order is DEFINITELY not permanent (at this point whenever I write a story, I just fit it randomly into this chart lol), and some of the info is outdated (for example, Slaughter the Animal is now polished!!! thank god!!!). But just an idea of what I’m thinking of including.

This is the summary so far:

In SHE IS ALSO DEAD, characters are pushed to act on their gravest impulses. A small town turns murderous when their local invasive species, the Janices, begin dying. A child struggles to understand her mother’s suicide. A college dropout who insists she’s being haunted by a poltergeist unexpectedly breaks up with her boyfriend. A mother acknowledges her daughter’s murderous tendencies after her backyard chickens mysteriously die. A young girl caters the funeral of a girl rumored to be killed by a wolf-antelope. A newly-divorced mother RSVP’s to a bizarre party she was not invited to, and a murderous brother and sister upkeep their yearly tradition of abducting a young girl. These stories follow characters who navigate death, violent desires, womanhood, and loss, both self-imposed and otherwise.

This is also so subject to change as I may pull and add stories to the collection!

I think I’m going to leave this update here for now! I’ve written TONS of poetry too, but I honestly ~hate my poetry right now lol, so! Hope you enjoyed this chill rambly update. Hope writing has going well for you all! All the best!

--Rachel

#writing #writeblr #writerblr #amwriting #writingupdates

57 notes · View notes

tobiosmilktea · 4 years ago

Note

scenario request: enemies to lovers au! w atsumu, ✨ thank you 💛

paper daisy chains — miya atsumu

5.5k words | genre/s: fluff, a little angst, enemies to lovers!au | warning/s: language, lots of arguing | pairing: atsumu x gn!reader

↪︎ in which three hours of detention leads to your hatred for your former best friend to fall apart all due to a kiss

a/n: you had me at enemies to lovers anon 😏 ngl tho this is not my best work considering i procrastinated on writing this and i needed to post something today ✨

in a mere afterthought—after everything had gone to shit already, it was then you had some forming recuperation of the situation you were in despite always finding a chance to snake your way out was no longer in your hands. so, perhaps you could have handled the situation a little bit better. emphasis on ‘little’ as there was very little you could do about your absolute hatred for miya atsumu and that sly grin on his face.

it wasn’t like this before–this messy relationship between you and atsumu. if anything, you were the bestest friends in middle school, by each other’s side like you were stuck together with glue. yet a single assumption ruined it all, tearing everything down into nothingness.

did you sometimes yearn for things to go back to the way they were before? the simple answer was yes, but your pride would never let atsumu know.

“as for you (y/l/n) (y/n), atsumu is now sporting a broken nose after you punched him during lunch.” the principle states matter-of-factually which earned a quiet scoff from behind you.

despite not standing directly next to you, atsumu was still far too close for your liking as his right shoulder often brushed against you at every small and sudden movement. you could practically feel his breath grazing the exposed part of your neck. however, you couldn’t exactly blame the setter no matter how much you wanted to as both your teacher and his coach had sandwiched you two together.

“disrespectful little swine that one.” inarizaki’s coach grunts loudly towards you, “you oughta teach that one a lesson before she hurts my starting setter again before nationals!”

you flashed the man a toothy grin as you grit them together. he always had an odd way of speaking, “yes, of course, it’s completely my fault for defending myself.” you deadpanned with your own sarcasm of poisonous venom, surprising almost everyone in the office—everyone except atsumu of course. if anything, he’s the only one still smirking in amusement while all the adults had their faces all contorted.

however, his eyes did widen a bit as he looked at you the moment you smirked up at him with proud delight written across your pretty face.

your teacher cleared his throat, elbowing you slightly in the ribs discretely. “my student didn’t mean that, sir.” he excuses, quickly giving you a warning look as a sign for you to apologize.

“i’m really sorry,” you weren’t sorry.

the principle simply smiled at your scornful apology that left your lips in the most condescending manner. he then switched his gaze back to the atsumu’s coach who has been arguing against the old man for a good fifteen minutes on only punishing you and not atsumu as it ‘wasn’t his fault,’ but you hadn’t been listening. why would you, anyway? in the end, you were going to get the short end of the stick once again with atsumu getting away with everything. from his annoying teases to his backhanded compliments that caused him a blow right on his nose in the first place will never be called out.

enter atsumu’s twin, osamu, through the office doors. to your surprise he (in a way) defended your case by saying that atsumu was provoking you all day. so, you and atsumu were both in the wrong. then again, that’s what happens between two enemies since middle school.

“based on what osamu has said, i have no choice but to give them both detention.” the principle concludes, “atsumu and (y/n) will be on cleaning duty in the library for the time being.”

“if you don’t mind me commenting,” the coach exclaims, drawing himself up to perhaps argue for the umpteenth time again, “atsumu has volleyball practice to—”

the principle immediately cuts him off, “there’s nothing i can do about it.”

“can’t he serve detention after nationals?” he tries to express once more but is cut off yet again.

“then that goes against our policy of having no behavioral issues in order to go on field trips.”

“then it is decided,” your teacher confirms with a nod. even he was getting a bit tired on this back and forth. “i’ll make sure both students will report to the library the moment the final bell rings, sir.”

great.

there was always something unnerving about the after school noon at inarizaki as you teetered on the edge of boredom and monotony. and that’s saying a lot considering you spent the majority of your time after classes secluded in your own room or wandering the streets of hyogo by yourself instead of going to club activities. you’d come to think that maybe, in the absolute inevitability that for once atsumu’s company would be much better than being alone, but you were wrong. so incredibly wrong.

you would much rather stay locked up in your bedroom all day than be stuck mopping the library floors and dusting off the shelves upon shelves of textbooks and novels.

a sigh escapes from your lips as you bring your gaze up to atsumu on the other end of the aisle, his tall figure reached at the tops of each book shelf as he dusted them off haphazardly while you too care of the bottom layers. it was understandable though as the task was not only tedious but simply counterproductive. the shelves were going to get all dusty again weren’t they? granted, punishment was punishment no matter how futile and impractical.

the library’s fluorescent lights had created shadows upon atsumu’s face, creating deep grooves and shadows upon his jaw and cheeks that perhaps you didn’t think he looked absolutely repulsive for once (even with the bandage on his broken nose).

you lift yourself from your crouched position and brushed any lingering dust off of your uniform, which at this point was a bit unkempt from the light labor you were forced to do. approaching the preoccupied setter, the rag within your hand was tossed back and forth between your left and right.

however, your eyebrows furrowed as you stopped only a few feet shy away from atsumu who should at least be sensing your presence at this point. he always had a knack of being aware of where you were and honestly you found it plain creepy. your gaze fell upon the rag in your hand, shrugging to yourself before chucking it at atsumu’s face.

the setter’s expression contorted slightly in confusion as the piece of cloth smacked him on the side of his cheek before falling onto the floor. his gaze followed the rag before turning his stare towards you.

“i’m bored,” you sighed out in a mutter with little to no emotion coating your words.

“me too,” he replies, crouching down to pick up the rag before tossing it to you lightly. you caught it within your hands as you feign the look of surprise on your visage. you honestly expected him throw it as hard as he could, but he didn’t. “the faster we get this done the faster we get to go home–or whatever you do after school like wander around hyogo or something.”

you nod, yet curiosity stroked you. how would he know about that? gently placing one foot in front of the other, you steered closer to the boy. “and how would you know i do that everyday after school?”

it was then, you could finally feel the striking tension between the two of you. as if it was heat emanating and merging simply from the proximity you two were standing, a beat had passed again the moment you confirmed that whatever answer atsumu was going to give you would be complete and utter bullshit.

“just to make sure you were safe,” he mutters so nonchalantly. something so out of his character, especially for you would obviously be more alarming than a simple shrug and a brow raise.

your arms braided over each other, your gaze hardening by the second. “safe?” you repeat in disbelief that was accompanied with a scoff, “that’s rich, miya, anymore shitty lies you want to tell me before i could ruin that pretty face of yours again?”

a smirk had fallen on his lips as he flickered you an entertained look. “so, you think i’m pretty?”

you roll your eyes, turning your back towards him. you knew talking to him was a stupid idea and if only your teacher didn’t force you to try to make amends during detention with him, you wouldn’t have to feel your brain cells deteriorate every time you look his way. so much for taking sensei’s words into consideration into making friends with him again when your patience was being tested every five seconds. “whatever,” you scoff for the umpteenth time as you going back to your previous spot.

“the thing is, what i said just then wasn’t a lie.” he concludes while his eyes follow your figure to the other end of the aisle, “but, it’s not like you’d believe me or care for that matter.”

you’re right, i don’t. you thought to yourself, and yet you were still taken aback from the sudden ardor in his tone. it was less of atsumu’s usual bite from his arguments and more of a laceration to the skin, near rather than cutthroat despite both being some form of verbal wound. one hurt more than the other and you were sure atsumu was holding back.

“and what makes you think that?” you question.

atsumu shrugs, “nothing really groundbreaking.” he pauses as his eyes fall upon your expression of nothingness as for once he couldn’t find the right words to say. on the tip of his tongue laid words that would definitely hurt you and that hollow chest of yours, and usually he wouldn’t care just the same as you wouldn’t, yet something was stopping him.

come to think of it, this was one of the rare occasions that you and atsumu were actually alone together. nothing but the confines of the library bookshelves to obstruct you and your enemy. if anything, you and atsumu are constantly surrounded by others who are aware of your mutual resentment towards each other. hell, the only reason why your name was even as near popular as atsumu’s was because you had beef with him that was never serious in the first place. even after the numerous altercations you had since middle school with the blond boy, it was always him who provoked you.

it was almost as if you only kept up your act because that’s all you’re known for in this damn school. and you hated it.

“just the fact that you hate me is the biggest reason.” atsumu adds.

a sarcastic laugh emitted from you as you turned back towards him. you were well aware how priceless your expression looked, all muddied in disbelief and annoyance. “the feeling’s mutual.” you seethed through your teeth, stopping yourself from suddenly dumping fuel to a slow building ember. you had dirt on atsumu, but so did he and you had to be careful in order to play your cards well.

yet atsumu was already one step ahead of you, “you know hiding you emotions and feelings isn’t very healthy, is it?” he evoked. it was starting again and you knew it—from the way he inched closer to you and the way he held that godforsaken smirk on his lips again.

this guy was really asking for it wasn’t he?

a chuckle leaves your lips as you fully face him, your skin pulsated with arising anger, you couldn’t wait for miya atsumu to pull your final strings so you could finally land a punch on his face again. “it’s not like stalking someone after school is any better,” you hissed in the same venom. “i heard that shit can go on your permanent record if you were caught following someone. who knows, miya, maybe you’ll be surprised one day when you’re kicked off the volleyball team all of a sudden—”

“that’s hilarious coming from you, (y/n), you piece of—” atsumu had cut himself off in the midst of his retort, pursing his lips together as his hardened gaze suddenly dropped. “whatever,” he scoffs before turning away.

he let out a frustrated sigh as he attempted to walk back to the other end of the bookshelf so he wouldn’t have to look at your widening smile of provocation on your visage—slick with the taste of ash and synthetic amusement. it covered you in a downpour of emotions, most of which (if not all) were just synonyms of anger and acrimony. your tone was almost elated, drenched in salty irritation that couldn’t wither. you waited for him continue his words knowing damn well he could hit you with something stronger, something that can hurt more.

atsumu had to admit that he wasn’t as nearly as tough as you, though. you were someone that grew up surrounded with constant thunderstorms of a family and had a chest filled with bruising epiphanies waiting to be spewed out if anyone were to ever fuck up. it would’ve been best if he stepped himself away knowing that you both had no crowd to entertain, and yet there was an aching within you that wanted atsumu to continue whatever insult rested on his tongue.

pull that string, miya, i dare you.

“whatever?” you miffed, testing the waters you knew was tainted in tension. “no, please continue what you were about to call me, miya. i’d love to hear a new rendition.”

the setter shook his head as he couldn’t bring himself to meet the fury in your eyes any longer. “i hate how it had to be you,” he muttered under his breath.

“what was that?”

atsumu shook his head, “nothing.”

detention was flying by slower than you had hoped.

within the first hour, you and atsumu had finished all the work assigned simply due to the fact that keeping yourselves busy on opposite sides of the library was best for both of your mental health.

two hours left of detention and boredom was dangerous for the likes of you two. now that you were both situated at the array of desks, it was common sense that some form of dispute between the two of you were bound to happened despite being separated and sitting at your own tables.

stupid atsumu, you thought. he really thought he was sly trying to sneak glances at you every five seconds like he was just waiting to get you riled up. what was his problem anyway? you thought that atsumu was the one who stopped himself from making matters worse earlier but it seems like he wanted to start something again.

you ignored him like you usually do. you were far too busy making a second pair of paper daisy chains and you needed the utmost focus cutting out each individual paper daisy to string into a faux flower crown.

atsumu had some audacity thinking he could keep throwing glances at you when you literally had a pair of scissors in your hand.

“keep staring and you’ll lose all of your piss-blond hair,” you deadpanned. you didn’t even bother to look at him as you were too preoccupied in your latest craft activity to fight your boredom.

however, it wasn’t atsumu’s fault that you were a complete enigma to him. he hated the way his friendship with you ended up like this after one big misunderstanding. sure, the first signs of your wavering friendship on the cusp of the big chasm of hatred you both created started in the middle school, but it truly formed in your first year.

granted, it wasn’t like he was wrong for worrying about you. he thought you were in danger last year when he thought you were getting involved with terrible people and simply reporting any suspicious behavior was his best way to go. the report was anonymous, but after you received the news, you were immediately suspended for a week all because of him. atsumu wasn’t going to negate the fact that perhaps it was his fault, but despite his numerous trials and errors of apologizing to you, it turned into nothing but heated arguments that led to your relationship now. all jagged and broken.

the topic has been taboo since.

atsumu’s gaze left yours, scoffing under his breath as he rolled his eyes. why did it have to be you? it wasn’t like this before, but you were all well aware how stubborn you two were.

you were an absolute wildfire that couldn’t be contained and atsumu was constantly treading over fresh embers that threatened to ignite at any form of friction. he was tired of always having to be careful around you, especially now that you broke his nose, yet he still wanted for things to be different.

“here,” your voice interrupts the tense silence as you toss him a finished paper daisy chain. it landed on his crossed arms, raising an eyebrow of confusion when he picked it up. “give that to osamu.”

atsumu was a bit perplexed to say the least, but he simply sighs to himself before gently placing the flower crown over his temples. “why osamu?” he knew damn well why, “i think it looks better on me.” he mused.

“you look hideous with it on,” you scoff, “besides it’s for your brother for a reason.”

“cause you like him better?”

“no doubt about it.”

(can you believe you liked atsumu more than osamu back in middle school?)

the setter shrugs, “too bad, you gave it to me so it’s mine now.”

“no it’s not, you don’t deserve one.” you say as you stand from your chair that screeched against the dark oak flooring of the library. you try to reach for the flower crown on atsumu’s head, but his hand snatched your wrist before you could grab it.

atsumu’s adams apple bobbed up and down when he realized how close you were, “let. go.” your voice was hushed, yet still spat out your infamous venomous tone.

but he didn’t let go.

“aren’t you tried of it?” atsumu brings up instead.

“tired?”

“of this,” he continued before motioning to each other, “of us having to act like we hate each other everyday?”

you feigned a scoff, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes to the absolute bullshit coming out of atsumu’s mouth right now. “i’m not acting.”

“well i am,” remarked atsumu before a millisecond could even pass, “i’m tired of having to act like i hate you all the time.”

it was then it seemed like something just cracked within you. lies, lies lies, everything was a lie with atsumu—from the moment he ruined your trust last year to every altercation, big or small, that happened until this point was nothing but lies. you swallowed a lump of pride, fear, and anger collecting in your throat as you let out a huff. “your lies are becoming progressively shittier, you know that right? i don’t need your sorry excuse of sincerity.”

you tugged at your wrist again, this time harder for atsumu to finally let you go, but he wasn’t budging. it wasn’t like you to admit this either, but it was starting to hurt.

“too bad i’m not lying.”

a sigh of frustration left your lips as you felt your anger suddenly swell within you. bottling up your emotions until they exploded was something you were explicitly good at and you could feel the bile rising in your throat, burning you along with words that threatened to spew out of your mouth. “what the fuck is wrong with you? you think that saying that bullshit now is going to make up everything that had ever happened between us?”

“no, I just—”

you didn’t bother to let him speak as you cut him off, “your volleyball fangirls harass me everyday for treating how i treat you, not mention i get constantly watched on like a hawk because of what you did! you made me lose my parents trust after i got suspended and i can’t even go out freely anymore! the only reason why i wander around hyogo alone after school is because that’s the only time i can have to myself since my parents think i have club activities—”

atsumu didn’t mutter a word as he waited for you to continue. he knew there was more inside you yearning to finally be verbalized and he was ready for it to come his way.

“you think i’m acting like i hate you out of pettiness, but that only proves how self-centered you are atsumu,” you huffed, not bothering to pull your wrist out of the setter’s vice-like grip anymore. “for once, i did consider finally letting this whole thing between us go and make amends, but not like this—not when you just keep fucking up and digging yourself a bigger hole.”

a few beats of silence passed between the two of you as you felt the heat rising within your slowly deplete. even atsumu’s hand on your wrist had loosened up a bit, sending a wave of relief within you knowing that you had a chance finally walk away.

“so you’re tired too?” the setter suddenly interjected.

here we go again, you thought with a dejected sigh. “can you—”

his hold around your wrist suddenly tightened again, but not as harsh as before. “answer my question.”

“no.” you pursed your lips together.

“liar.”

“atsumu, please—”

“listen, i’m really sorry about what i did.” the setter expressed, hoping the sincerity in his voice was reaching you. “what i did was fucked up, but just say the word and we can stop everything right here.”

“let go,” you muttered in between, but atsumu only continued.

“no more arguments, we could go back to how we were before or we could start over again—”

“i said let go!”

it was then atsumu’s grip left your wrist and caught your face in between his hands and leaned in.

it wasn’t like this was your first kiss, but it certainly felt like it. granted, this was the first time you kissed some you hate—or rather, someone you’re supposed to hate. you’ve kissed numerous people before, all of which were fueled with nothing but boredom and was nothing more than a simple peck. and yet, this was everything out of the ordinary. you were kissing miya atsumu for fuck’s sake and for once there wasn’t a clear instinct in your body to move away fom him.

your mind blurred so much that the confusion written all over your expression and in your head was muddied by the roaring of your heartbeat. perhaps it was the way atsumu had managed to somehow run his hand from your face and through your hair while the other gently caressed your cheek as if this was how it was supposed to be for ages. it certainly didn’t feel like some cheap thrill atsumu had devised as the way he pulled you closer to him felt like a missing puzzle piece finally being placed.

and for once, you didn’t feel absolutely disgusted when he touched you like this.

it was then when the bandage on atsumu’s healing nose tickled the bridge of yours had suddenly pulled your out of some dream-ridden euphoria. as if it was a reminder that this is what you did. the person who was supposed to be your best friend turned into your enemy after one misunderstanding. he hurt you once and that was the most he did, and yet it only made matters worse when you’ve come to the realization that all of atsumu’s quarrels with you was far less hurtful than what you ever said. they were all for the same reason and that reason was how he felt for you. the feelings had been simmering within him since middle school was finally revealing itself and you’ve been throwing it away for so long.

you didn’t deserve this type of love.

the swift beating of your heart was no longer from the burning sensation of atsumu’s lips against yours, but rather the adrenaline of every single worry tucked in the confines of your head were coming out of their shadows all at once. no matter how intoxicating a forbidden kiss like this felt, you were suffocating beneath the drowning ocean of the unspeakable.

your swollen lips, all tinted red parted slightly before biting down on atsumu’s lip.

“shit!” he suddenly exclaimed, suddenly pulling away to touch the bleeding wound on his bottom lip.

you took this chance to finally get away like you always did. and to your surprise, atsumu didn’t follow you into the labyrinthine aisles of the empty library for once. perhaps this was the one time you were glad that you and atsumu were alone in this huge room as it at least saved you from any humiliation of whatever the fuck just happened.

the inkling within your gut felt familiar, but too peculiar to fully comprehend. yet, with the blush that stretched from your cheeks to your ears still at it’s fullest opacity to the loudness your heartbeat still thumping against your chest and in your ears, it was obviously what the feeling was.

this can’t be happening.

you let out a sigh.

fifteen minutes. that’s all that’s left of the three hours of detention and after this, you were free from the confines of the library walls that suffocated you.

just fifteen more minutes before you can leave and avoid atsumu for the rest of your life. after those fifteen minutes, you would no longer give two shits about inarizaki’s setter and he could no longer confuse you anymore. and all you needed to do was wait in the most obscure corner of the library that most wouldn’t even go to.

the thing is, it was genuinely a good plan, but lately you’ve come to the conclusion that you had been underestimating atsumu for such a long time. this was one of those moments where you believed he would leave once detention was over, and yet he made sure to go through each and every aisle of bookshelves only to find you with your nose stuck in a book to keep you occupied. you didn’t even see him at first, but atsumu was glad you didn’t as he spent a good five minutes forcing himself to stop blushing just by your presence.

and to your (quite unfortunate) luck, here miya atsumu was now—approaching you in all his broken-nosed glory. it certainly didn’t help the fact that this entire time, you couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. it was the way he spoke about his feelings for you via the sparks from the sudden excursion that had your heart blossoming out of your chest even an hour after it happened

atsumu plops himself next to you, yet still leaving enough room that you wouldn’t run away from him again. his arms rest over his knees as he picked at his nails in uncertainty, as if he was treading over thin ice and a single misstep would eliminate any progress that was created between the two of you. “we’re free to go in fifteen minutes,” his voice was gentle, yet hesitance laced it to soften it a bit more as you didn’t even spare him a glance. “...just to let you know.”

there was no response from you. a simple nod was a good enough answer even though you weren’t obligated to. if anything, you feared that atsumu could hear the wavering in your voice when if you did say anything verbally. you hoped just by a simple nod would be a sign for him to get up and leave you alone in your furrowing thoughts, but he just sat there. in the deafening silence and the flipping of the pages of your book, he stayed for you.

atsumu wanted to make sure you got home safely and not do anything stupid. he knew what you were capable of especially after something out of the ordinary transpires (see: the kiss from earlier).

you had to admit that maybe you didn’t care that he was right next to you anymore. before, you would always yell at him to leave you alone or give you space, but for once his presence felt comforting to you (you wouldn’t confess that for you the life of you, though). you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the heat rising in your neck again.

(he did end up noticing)

the setter cleared his throat then, his fingers still playing with each other to spare him from the awkwardness. “are you okay?”

you huffed, “i knew you were an idiot, but i didn’t think you were this stupid.”

there it was, atsumu thought. despite the severity of your response, he couldn’t help but feel a smile creep on his lips knowing that you were at least talking to him. throughout the past year, he had come to realize that having you throw insults at him was better than not talking at all. granted, you wouldn’t even spare a single breath to someone you truly hated and not give a shit about. so if anything, you being mean to him was a sign that you think of him as something more than a stranger.

it was an odd case of stockholm syndrome, atsumu had to admit.

“is it because of the kiss earlier?” he asked, yet you didn’t utter a word. rather it was the sudden bursting of red tinted ears and burning cheeks stopped you from forming proper words. you would never get used to this feeling. “if it makes you feel any better—”

“just shut up about it,” you hissed as plunged your face deeper into your book. atsumu seeing your tomato-red face was the last thing you wanted as you shooed him away, “i don’t want to hear it.”

a chuckle left atsumu as he took the book out of your hands, loudly slapping it shut that the impact of paper hitting one another echoed throughout the library. it forced you to look at him in the eyes as he smirked at your expression. he hasn’t seen a look of embarrassment on your visage before and he found it adorable. “if the next words that come out of your mouth is to forget about the kiss ever happening, i’ll do it again and make sure you remember.”

your jaw tightened slightly as you peered your eyes at him, “fine.” you affirmed, “it did happen, but it meant nothing.”

“well, it meant something to me.” atsumu countered, not even noticing the way he leaned in closer.

it felt almost impulsive the way your emotions just crumbled before you. with the sense of betrayal between your mind and your heart had you dragged into the tide of finally giving into the guy you’re supposed to be hating. it felt criminal the way you even let your eyes flicker back down to his lips that was still a bit swollen from last time.

it just had to you, huh?

“i hate you,” you say before pulling him his tie towards you.

the kiss was slower than last time, deeper even. you were sure this was how serendipity felt like, sweet against your tongue like marmalade and soft like feathers with the way atsumu was trying to chase that euphoria when he made his way down your jaw. the ghost of his lips left trails down your neck and to your collarbone before recoiling back to your lips. you tasted like mocha and atsumu already found himself addicted to it.

“miya! (y/l/n)!” the advisor in charge of detention’s voice suddenly thundered throughout the library, forcing you two to pull away from each other. “detention ends in five minutes! the hell is this? daisy chains?” he suddenly interjects before letting out a loud scoff. “if i don’t see the rest of the trash from these tables thrown away, i’m giving you two another after school detention next week!”

a disappointed sigh emits from you as you and atsumu make your way back to the other end of the library. you hoped the exchange between the two of you wasn’t too obvious as your lips were all pink and your uniform disheveled.

the advisor gave you two a look before turning away to leave the library. humiliation struck you then and atsumu couldn’t help but laugh.

“i’ll make sure osamu gets his paper daisy chain.” the setter reassures playfully as he snatches both flower crowns from the table and hands the other to you.

your hands brush together as you take it from him, muttering, “you can have it if you want.”

“what was that?”

“nothing,” you say as you make your way towards the library’s entrance, “i said you look like a cunt.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu #atsumu fluff #atsumu miya #atsumu hcs #hq atsumu #haikyuu atsumu

392 notes · View notes