#……………maybe I can turn this into a thesis somehow: What Is Animation? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peaches-writes · 4 years

Text

full circle

description: even if you’ve only known him for eight years, if you think about it, you’ve actually been with minho for most of his entire life. member: minho / lee know genre: fluff, historical au, vampire au, time traveler au, college au, neighbour au, best friends to lovers au, fem reader, this is a longer and revised version of reliable source word count: 10k warnings: explicit language, mentions of animal murder, war, death, blood, alcohol note: yay a third entry to the seven hundred and one universe! oc from seven hundred and one universe is named shiyeon here while the oc from kart rider is named soojung! + this prolly has a lot of plot holes & is just generally mediocre but whatever it’s fiction lmao + @skzwriternet

present: February 13, 2020

Even before he saw you on the other side of his apartment door at 9 PM with all of your work materials and equipment, Minho already knew full well that this day was coming. He’s always known most days are coming. He‘s just more excited for this in particular than the rest, given its inevitability that he‘s lived through for almost 600 years of his total 900 years as a vampire. Tonight, as evidenced by the Google Docs displayed on your open laptop, is the night you’d travel to the past for your doctorate thesis and meet his past self for the first time.

He just didn’t expect this in particular to be on the day right before Valentine’s Day, when he and his two other housemates have decided to make a complete mess out of the kitchen with all of the chocolate they’ve been trying to make.

“Hi, sorry for bothering you at this hour but I was thinking—ew, what’s that smell?” You instinctively and bluntly ask first, sniffing the air escaping his side of the door. Minho could smell it too, strongly at that, and the older vampire could only purse his lips and widen his eyes at you. “Are you guys—please don’t tell me you’re actually cooking humans this ti—“

At that, he immediately shakes his head and breaks out into a nervous laugh, pulling the door closer to his body and effectively hiding Jisung scrambling around for the exhaust (and maybe the fire extinguisher too, for some reason) before you could peer over his shoulder. “No, no! It’s just Jisung and Jeongin—well, it’s mostly Jeongin then he dragged Jisung in on it—they’re making Valentine’s Day chocolates for...some people.”

You could sense the slight bluff in his tone (supported further by the little heart-shaped candy on his cheek) and that at least one of those ‘some people’ he could possibly be referring to is one of your friends, Nari, whom Jeongin has not-so-discreetly been pining over since your second year of college, but you easily let it slide. In the eight years you’ve known the vampires who live and own your apartment complex, after all, you’ve definitely walked in on much wilder things than a couple of questionably burnt chocolates (chocolates aren’t even cooked, as far as you’re concerned!). “Um, okay, sure, I’ll trust you with that.” You squint your eyes at him. “Anyway, can I come in? I need your help with something.”

Minho exhales a small sigh of relief which he turns into a smile for you before looking over his shoulder once to make sure that the coast is clear then opening the door wide once again. “Yeah, come on in.” He concludes next, picking up your backpack on the floor and your heavy laptop in your hands as you cross the threshold. “But it’s really messy in the common area right now so we’ll have to stay in my room, if that’s okay with you.”

You’ve never been in his room, not even when you first became friends in your first year of college eight years ago or on game nights when he always asks for help taking out his Play Station sets. All of Jisung and Jeongin’s jokes of his serial killer tendencies when you’re not around could be true for all you know and it’s the only thing going through your head as you wordlessly follow him inside his apartment, pondering on the thought.

In response, Minho bites down a laugh between his teeth next to you as he accidentally reads your thoughts and when you catch him in the act, you make sure to elbow him with your freer arm, careful of your drafts binder. “Ya, stop reading my thoughts without permission, you asshole!” You scold him in a sharp hiss right as you pass Jisung and Jeongin in the open doorway leading to the kitchen. You greet the two courteously and even make a salute to the fallen chocolates, to which Minho laughs even more at and the two boys groan in protest. “Well, shit, it really is...bad.”

“I know, poor people who’ll get that tomorrow.” Minho shrugs.

“You could say Nari, it’s fine, I won’t tell.” You shrug back with a laugh, taking this time to take the candy off of his cheek and walking past him and the other two boys with a parting wave before Jeongin could even process that you caught up to him and his crush so easily.

Minho, meanwhile, clears his throat awkwardly and follows you, in a poor attempt to hide his immediate flustered expression. Some of the chocolates were actually for you but he won’t tell you that too, of course.

Especially not when you arrive in his room not long after, nodding in approval at its cleanliness that clearly contrasts the current state of his kitchen and, by a slight extension, living room. “Glad you to know you don’t murder people in your room, Min. See? We get closer as friends would every day.”

“I’ve been on blood bag and animal diet since we met, you brat. Don’t tease like that.” Minho rolls his eyes, prompting you to laugh.

“So, where do I work, then?” You ask after, turning to Minho on your side and accidentally brushing your shoulders together.

He gestures to his work table in response, naturally placing his other hand on your back and guiding you towards it. He really hopes you’d be oblivious to the way he’s growing more flustered this time. He doesn’t let you in his room for a reason, after all (that being it’s too intimate in his opinion). “You can use my desk.” He instructs you after, following you and pulling an extra chair for himself once you’ve reached his desk. Placing your backpack next to his work bag then your laptop on top of the table, he then asks, “So, are you travelling now or later?”

He already knew you’d do it sometime now, he really just wanted to ask to keep the conversation going. He even has your hanbok ready—bought from Changbin’s wife’s shop last month.

But, to you, he seems to have miscalculated the situation a little bit as a realization dawns on you while you’re taking out the portable time travel machine from your backpack. It’s actually just a watch but your professors insist on keeping them in really fancy boxes. “I can do it now if it’s oka—wait, I haven’t even told you that part yet! How do you know I’m not just going to hoard your wi-fi?” You exclaim mid-thought, your mouth falling agape and forming an ‘o’ shape in surprise. You know he wasn’t reading your mind just now because, usually, Minho would announce his presence obnoxiously loud in your head or make the face he did a while back but he didn’t this time. “So you’re going to agree to my request? Is that it?”

Eyes equally wide in his mistake, Minho falls back in his chair and ends up fumbling around with his words. “Well—no, I mean, you always only need my help when you’re about to time travel so—!” He tries his best to cover up which only elicits a victorious smile from you. “Ugh, fine, you got me!”

“So, you’ll help me? I mean, past you, technically.” You ask again for confirmation, sitting down on your own chair this time as you fully take out the portable machine and place it on your lap. “I have to tell you, though, that I need to travel to three other periods for my thesis this time. Is that okay?”

Minho props his elbow on the arm rest and nods against his knuckles. “You already know the answer to that, I think.”

You chuckle at this. If eight years of knowing him has taught you anything, it’s to pay attention to the smallest details. He’s clairvoyant, after all, and you need to up him at his own game every now and then somehow. “Then, I’ll also need the proper attire. Haseul said that she can’t take in commissions at the moment so I couldn’t—“

“In the closet, furthest right.” Minho gestures to the walk-in closet behind him in defeat. “You can use that for all the times you’ll go, too.”

“Have I told you that you’re my bestest friend in the world today? Even more than Nari, and she’s a witch, might I add!” You dramatically announce with a grin, handing him the machine’s box before standing up and making a beeline to the double doors on the other side of his bed. When you follow his instructions and find a pink and blue hanbok along with a floral hairpin on the very end of his closet, you then take it out and head to the open bathroom across the room. “Oh, wow, you even got my size right! You must’ve been preparing for this for a long time, huh?”

He really has—but, again, Minho is too stubborn to admit it to your face. “Just tell me if it’s uncomfortable or something.” He simply replies to you instead before you could close the door and change. Once he hears you acknowledge him with a hum before clicking the door to a lock, he then quickly prepares the time travel watch for you (by the way he remembers you doing it in front of him countless of times while you were cramming for a school requirement with him) then places it next to your laptop in exchange for his phone to message the rest of his friends.

minho [9:13 PM]: its happening

chan [9:14 PM]: you’re confessing?

hyunjin [9:14 PM]: hey that’s great! good for you hyung!!!

minho [9:16 PM]: no! y/n’s making the travel to 1388!

changbin [9:18 PM]: chan u know not to get ur hopes up w minho alr we all know he’s hopeless

minho [9:21 PM]: just bc ur alr married u brat

Changbin was still typing out a reply in the groupchat when you came out of the bathroom in your hanbok, laughing behind your hand when Minho looks up and momentarily gapes at you. “Why are you looking at me like that, weirdo?” You furrow your brows as you approach, smacking his arm before sitting down on his bed right behind him with a slight struggle. Peering over his shoulder, you smile appreciatively at noticing the time machine already set up. “And I see you’ve set up the machine without breaking anything this time! Progress!”

Minho scoffs, swiveling his wheeled chair to face you properly before gesturing to the hairpin in your hands. “You don’t like the hairpin?”

"I don’t know why you’re making me wear a hairpin that looks like a wedding heirloom.” You frown. Not to mention, from it’s material, you could tell that it’s new as well, meaning it was designed this way on purpose. “Won’t it attract too much attention?”

Minho doesn’t know why you eventually came to him in the past wearing the hairpin too. He thought his future self was being ridiculous then (and he still does in the moment). “I don’t know, either,” He tells you truthfully this time, standing up from his chair to place it on your tightly-made bun. “But you did come wearing it eventually so just go with the flow, I guess? I don’t know, what do your sci-fi movies say?”

You scoff at him, puffing out the heat rising up to your cheeks at the proximity. He could read your mind if he wants to but he doesn’t seem to be in the moment, even when his lips are gently fanning air into your ear as he fixes the hairpin with utmost care. “I guess I’ll just have to follow your instincts, then.” You sigh in defeat. “I can’t miss a detail, even if it’s weird.”

“Right. I was there in the moment before you right now.” He smiles cheekily before sitting back down on his chair, passing you your time travel box after. “Ready to go?”

You nod, fixing your collar one last time before receiving the machine from his hands. “You haven’t met me in the 1388, right?”

“The first time you met me in the past was in the 1910s for that graduate thesis of yours and the oldest version of me that you’ve met so far was the one from the the 1740s.” Minho corrects, recalling your fourth year thesis some eight years ago. “But the first time I met you in my history was for this doctorate.”

Your eyes light up at this. “Really? You’re meeting me for the first time now?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“We’ll have differing first impressions after this!” You point out to which he snickers. “Also, I haven’t met this version of you, you might be a snob in 1388 and think I’m weird or something.”

Minho personally doesn’t think his first impression of you will ever change, no matter when you’ll meet in time. He’ll always think positively of you. “I was already turned for a long time, then. I haven’t met Chan and the others but I’ve seen and heard of weirder things than a time traveler.” He assures you. “Now, go, so I can help Jisung and Jeongin in the kitchen.”

Rolling your eyes, you then set the date to January 1388 (you notice Minho’s already set the location while you were in the bathroom) before bidding a temporary goodbye to him, disappearing into thin air with the watch on your wrist right after. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

In the blink of an eye, you’re already in a flea market somewhere in Seoul (then named Hanseong, you made sure to remember that well out of all of your history and anthropology notes).

past: January 1388

You easily find 1388 Minho wandering around the flea market, a crowd of court men and women following him religiously as he examines the crops, livestock, and flowers being sold in stalls. The sight makes you scoff in disbelief, even more when you approach and see how he ignores each and every one of them up close.

You know Minho isn’t the one of royal blood in his current coven of vampires (that’s Hyunjin—you know it well from the amount of times you’ve pestered him in your other time travels while he was sulking over his present day fiancée) but he has mentioned in passing once about being popular in the palace court, a socialite of his time if you will.

But then, who could blame him? He’s just that handsome and charming.

“Minho...Lee Minho...” You try calling for him in the crowd but to no avail, the slight embarrassment of following the crowd creeping up to you. It reminds you a bit of when you first saw him in your timeline, your first year of college and his fourth year (because Chan keeps insisting that he goes to university every now and then to pass the time) when all kinds of students would also follow him around at the campus library. It’s annoying, regardless of wherever you are in the world timeline. “Excuse me, Lee Minho!”

He only turns to you when you raise your voice, an eyebrow momentarily raised until your eyes meet and a look seemingly of recognition crosses his features.

You became friends with him as an older vampire but why is he more intimidating as a younger one? It’s probably the rest of the crowd’s eyes being on you because of your sudden interruption. Either way, you forcibly gulp down your nervousness and call for him again. “Lee Minho?”

“Yes?”

“C-Can I—Can I talk to you for a moment?” You gesture for him to follow you, his piercing gaze making your hands shake a bit. This is probably what Chan meant when he said Minho was a bit scary when he first met him in the 1400s.

Minho follows you, anyway, which alleviates and heightens your nervousness at the same time. The crowd would’ve followed if not for him glaring at them not to right before you turned to the main entrance of the flea market where a few people were loitering around at. He feels like he knows you from somewhere which, if you knew about, you’d tell him that that’s impossible since, chronologically, you haven’t met him before this.

Once you’re away from the majority of the market crowd, only then do you turn to properly face him and his expectant eyes. He’s still looks the same as he does in the present, just more curious, seeing as you’re a stranger for now. It’s comforting, somehow, so much so that it relaxes you and eventually makes you laugh as well.

“What’s so funny?” He asks you without any hint of malice once you uncontrollably burst into giggles, prompting you to lift your hand up to your mouth. Already developing his clairvoyant abilities at this time period, he could easily tell by the unfamiliar terms in your thoughts and the way you hold yourself up that you were different—far more different than everyone around you. “And who are you?”

You wave your other hand dismissively, taking a step back to recuperate. You end up giggling a few more times before you could manage to take a deep breath and exhale slowly by turning your eyes away from Minho momentarily. “I’m sorry, I’m Y/N and I—sorry! It’s just so...it’s a bit weird!”

“Definitely.” Though your answer is unsatisfactory, the boy nods anyway. “And how do you know my name?”

“I know you from the futur—wait, you can tell that it’s a bit weird too?” You raise an eyebrow and fold your arms over your chest. “It’s…sometime in the 1300s—“

“Thirteen eighty-eight.”

“Right.” You nodded at his correction with a dry scoff, piquing his interest further. “It’s only 1388 and you’re already this good of a clairvoyant?”

Minho was instinctively taken aback with you. His present self forgot to tell you that clairvoyance doesn’t have an established name in this time yet. “How did you—? What? Huh, well…the hanbok—the hanbok’s a bit of a giveaway too, I guess. It looks different from what the court women usually wear.”

You then briefly glanced down at your hanbok, a pout resting on your features when you look back up at Minho again. “Really? But you—I mean, my source told me that this was accurate.” Come to think of it, you didn’t really check the attire thoroughly since you really needed to travel immediately to cram your paper. You’ll have to give 2020 Minho an earful about this later. “Ah, guess it’s my fault for not double-checking. I was in a bit of a rush to come here.”

Minho from 1388, however, shakes his head at you in disapproval then briefly begins pointing out the different design patterns that looked foreign to him. “And this hairpin,” He pointed your hair accessory last, from what you can remember at present. There’s an unreadable expression in his face, one you’re too flustered to interpret as amusement. “This looks like a wedding heirloom but…a bit futuristic for my time, if that makes sense. I don’t suppose you wanted to come here disguised as someone’s wife, right? That’d attract more attention to you.”

And with that, you almost immediately deflate right in front of him with a defeated sigh and he smirks teasingly in return. To the passersby at the flea market, people could’ve easily mistaken the two of you for a quarreling married couple. “So that’s how it is.” You surrender easily, your arms loosening. “I guess even at this time you’re clairvoyant and smart. How annoying.”

His smirk grows even more triumphantly at this. “So, why did you come here?” He asks next. He figures out halfway through your rambles that it’s probably better to go along with you than to insist on his own questions, at least until you’ve organized your thoughts a little bit better.

You ponder on the question for a moment, shifting your weight between the balls of your feet to pass the time. When you do answer, you explain, “Well, it’s a little crazy but my source has said that you’ll be okay with it so...believe it or not, I’m from the future and doing my doctorate thesis on a dynasty that’s about to establish itself around this time.” When 1388 Minho doesn’t immediately and visibly freak out as he would on your worst case scenario, you take this as your cue to continue. “You’re still alive in my time but I can’t tell you what our relationship is or it’ll be spoilers! All I can say is that you’ve helped me passed a lot of my major requirements in school and if you’re okay with it, you can help me with this one too!”

The Minho in front of you thinks that you probably know him very well to know that he’s not easily spooked with anything out of the ordinary, not even by someone who claims to be from the future and is doing an academic paper about the past. You did mention knowing his personal history, as well, which effectively gained you his trust. He just hopes you’re not married or something in the future as the hairpin seems to be trying to imply or else he’d consider this first meeting of yours a bit chaotic for his liking. “Sure. Where do you have to be right now?”

Really? It’s that easy? Is all you can think about, much to Minho’s curiosity when he reads your thoughts. “O-Oh, well, um...if you can take me to the palace courts, that would be...cool, I mean nice.”

And so, Minho from 1388 ends up showing you around the palace courts for the next six months that follows (but, really, it’s just merely six minutes in the present time), even introducing you to people whom you ended up entrusting with your data-gathering. You almost mentioned Hyunjin and his fiancé, Shiyeon, on more than one occasion, remembering how the vampire would be with Seungmin already by this time while the immortal witch would be travelling around Korea, but opted not to instead when you also remember that no one from this time period really liked talking about the previous fire that killed most of Hyunjin’s family.

Besides, you didn’t want to mess up the timeline and have Minho meet Hyunjin before he could meet Chan, even when he would ask you about it right before you left.

“How am I in the future, by the way? Am I allowed to ask that?” Minho asks you curiously as you hold out your watch in front of him. It was starting to get annoying, having to hide it in your bell sleeves all the time. “And what am I doing by then?”

“I can’t say anything specific that’s important.” You scrunch up your nose disapprovingly to which Minho only glares at you in response. “Just trust me, you’re sort of happy with where you are in my present day. You don’t have to worry about it now, it’s still 600 years away, anyway.”

Minho mistakenly interprets that as the two of you being married in the future. He doesn’t have feelings for you in this time period but he takes your word not to worry about it until it’s happened.

Besides, you seem kind. He’ll see something in you eventually.

“When will I see you again, then?”

“Um...around 1418, probably?” You answer with a hint of uncertainty as you faintly recall your thesis’ outline. You needed to see King Sejeong’s court next. “You’ll still be here, right?”

Minho initially had plans on moving to a nearby province but he nods, anyway, thinking that that could wait for a few more years. “Yeah.”

And with that, you’re gone again.

present: February 13, 2020

When you get back to the present day, it’s only 9:35 PM, almost six minutes since you left, but Minho’s already in the kitchen, helping Jisung and Jeongin clean up their mess.

“Back already?” Minho asks with a blood bag between his teeth when he catches sight of you by the open doorway as he wipes the kitchen island clean, immediately noticing the grin you wear on your face. “What did you think?”

“You were much chiller then!” You exclaim, ducking past Jeongin and Jisung to sit down right across Minho on the countertop. “I mean, you were a bit scary at first with the whole glaring thing you got going on but you were very calm and collected, then, like you weren’t even phased about me being from the future!”

Of course he would be at that time, he was literally there when it happened (and also because he’s always had a feeling even from before that you’d meet but that’s also on his long list of things he won’t tell you). Instead, you see him quirk an eyebrow, throwing the rag towel in his hand to the side to pick up his phone and resume his Kart Rider. “Weirdoes vibe with weirdoes, I guess.” He shrugs, chuckling when you protest at this. “Anyway, you got what you need, right?”

You nod happily with a hum, propping an elbow up on the now clean counter and resting your cheek on your palm. “I have enough to write about later when you’re done cleaning.”

“Ya, Y/N, if you’re gonna stick around at least help us clean the kitchen!” Jisung complains as he drags a wet mop across the floor behind you.

“And why would I do that? I didn’t even help you make the chocolates!”

“Because Minho’s been making cho—” Before Jisung could finish his sentence, however, Minho throws his rag towel towards the younger vampire, aiming it directly to his face. “Ya!”

You shake your head in disbelief, turning to Minho again after. “Anyway, I have to fix my notes for a bit and you need to tell me where else I went for this paper!”

Also because you were kinda cute back then, you think to yourself more as an after-thought, not really expecting for Minho to accidentally hear it.

Now, Minho knows why he made you wear the hairpin. Is it normal to be jealous of one’s past self?

present: February 16, 2020

Minho offers you a whole bag of your favorite mini Toblerones the next time that you knock on his door to work on your thesis. The Valentine’s Day homemade chocolates were a fail even when Felix was eventually brought in last-minute (then you just had to disappear for a whole day with Nari and Shiyeon, too), so he rushed to the nearest convenience store to buy you the Toblerones as soon as you told him that you’ll come over again to pester him with his Internet connection and ask him more about your work.

Maybe this is really it, the one you were talking about in his past.

“You’re being nice to me with all this chocolate.” You squint your eyes with a piece of the chocolate in between your teeth suspiciously across the dining table as you work, head buried in papers to revise and dusty reference books. Your professor has you on travel limit as everyone else, only allowing you up to four actual visits to the past, hence the mountainous stacks of library books and journals you’ve borrowed from both the campus library and Changbin’s personal collection. “What do you need? Ya, I’m talking to you.”

Minho, busy in his own academic work on his laptop, only peeks up at you belatedly when he’s reaching out for his blood bag buried underneath all of your papers. “What?”

“What are the chocolates for?” You ask straightforwardly this time, picking up another mini Toblerone off the yellow bag. “Last time you bought me something from the convenience store was when you ate the squirrel I was feeding in the back garden.”

Minho only shrugs as nonchalantly as he could, though he can’t help but feel a little flustered as evidenced by the way his eyes briefly widen. The squirrel incident was a long time ago and yet you still won’t let it go. “Can’t I be nice?” He simply asks back in answer to which you scoff at. He laughs along with you, anyway. “Jeongin bought it then gave me the extra, probably to give to you since I can’t really eat it.”

You wanted to tell him that Nari actually shared the chocolates Jeongin gave her and they were definitely not Toblerones but you let it slide again. For some reason, it’s funny seeing Minho try to cover up something right in front of your face and thinking that he’s doing a good job at it. He’s trained you to see past his bullshit for the past 8 years, he should really know better. “Um...right.” You nod teasingly. “I’m gonna pretend you’re not looking very suspicious right now.”

Minho could clearly tell that you’re doubting him even without reading you but he does nothing more to it. He’s too deep in his bullshit already and you both know that.

Truth is, he was just fulfilling something you mentioned in your second visit to him (and probably as a way to give you something on Valentine’s Day even if it’s two days late).

“Anyway, when are you making the travel again?”

“Right after I finish summarizing this book.”

And it happens to come full circle today, too. What luck does your best friend have.

past: August 1418

You jump between days in a span of six years this time (which is approximately an hour and twelve minutes back in the present time) with the help of Minho, Chan, and Changbin from 1418 helping you by preparing an entire closet of clothes and coming up with a very detailed background story of how you were a distant relative of Chan’s from the province in the case that someone asked about you. The other two boys were more than happy to welcome you despite how foreign time travel was to them in this time period because, apparently, you’re all Minho’s ever talked about since they met.

“It’s nice knowing that Minho didn’t fever dreamed you up or something.” Changbin joked to you once towards the end of the six years of your data-gathering, to which he received a full apple shoved in his mouth from Minho. In this time period, his wife, Haseul, was still in that sleeping curse you still don’t understand fully at present, carefully laid in a tomb somewhere in the capital. Fortunately, you managed to avoid telling him that she wakes up seven centuries later (and that they get married) throughout your entire stay and avoided spoilers. “Vampires who’ve lived long like us tend to do that sometimes. Heck, even Chan does that lots of times these days, telling us about this immortal person he’s been looking for a while now. I guess it’s the human brain’s natural response to having a lot of memories.”

“Minho remembers me just fine in the present, though.” You shrug as you re-write your interview notes, to which Minho mumbles a ‘Really?’ at. When you nod at him, he immediately rolls his eyes up in thought. You want to tell them that the person Chan’s been looking for at this time’s also real (and that he and said person, Eunhye, even live together now), too, but you decide against it later on for spoiler reasons again. “You have really good memory in the present, you even bought me Toblerones today.”

“What are those?”

A realization dawns on you right there and then, a small smile forming on your lips to which Minho quirks an eyebrow at and Changbin immediately asks you about. “You’ll find out soon enough. Just know that they’re my favorite.” You simply answer, standing up from the front porch of the inn you’ve been staying at and dusting the dirt off of your new hanbok. You remind yourself to ask Minho and Changbin about where these are at present later on. “Anyway, I’m off! I need to interview a few court people then I’ll be off your hairs again soon!”

When it’s time for you to leave again, Minho’s still pestering you about what Toblerones are.

“Come on, tell me!” He protests, going as far as holding your wrist where your watch is before you could escape. “Y/N!”

You only grin up at him mischievously, gently swatting his hand away. “February 16, 2020! Also, make me ramen and coffee when I get back to the other side, please! I’d really like that!”

present: February 16, 2020

A steaming bowl of ramen and a warm cup of miraculously decently-brewed coffee are on the kitchen countertop by the time you come back, just as you asked him six hundred years in the past. What you didn’t expect, however, was the way your notes and references have also been organized neatly on the table while you were away and Minho dozing off on the nearby sofa in the open living room (he really likes genuine sleep lately which you’re yet to ask him as to why). You make sure to check that he really is sleeping by pinching his nose (and getting no response which is his usual indication of actual sleep) before placing the blanket he has reserved for you in his apartment over his hunched over body.

“You don’t really need it,” You whisper tiredly, tucking the blanket close to his neck. His skin is naturally cold, as any normal vampire’s, but you’ve slowly grown accustomed to it over the years. “but how else am I going to say thank you for remembering my request after six hundred years? You’re going above and beyond anyone I’ve ever met, Lee Minho, you should stop raising the bar too high for men like this.”

three

past: May 1592

“Are you sure you want to be here?” Minho from 1592 asks you right after you’ve reappeared in his house. Chan is out for work and Changbin is visiting Haseul on this particular day, leaving him to tend to their main house alone. “We’re in the middle of—”

“A Japanese invasion, I know.” You finish his thought for him, casually plopping down on the front porch right next to him and gingerly receiving the cup of tea he offers you. The garden he’s been trying to tend the last time you were around hasn’t made any significant progress even when an entire century has passed. You want to think it’s because the boys have been travelling elsewhere right before you returned but you also know it’s because they haven’t met Seungmin and Hyunjin yet. Those two are still probably travelling with Shiyeon. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re—” Minho leans away and gazes back incredulously at you. He can already tell, with his own abilities, that you’re not thinking of what he’s thinking but he asks anyway to fully confirm. “I’m not letting you go to the frontlines if that’s what you’re going to ask me this time.”

You chuckle at his genuinely mortified expression as you sip on your tea, making the boy furrow his brows at you. You really must be crazy. “You already know I’m not thinking of that! Though, I will ask you crazier things in the distant future.” You assure him. “I’ll only be staying for a year, six years again at most since I only need to complete a few interviews and fact-check a few books.”

“Good.” Minho sighs in relief, taking a long sip of his tea as well. Even in 1592, the only human beverage Minho could stand is tea, you’re quick to notice. “That’s...that’s a relief.”

“Why would you even be worried about going to the field, you’re immorta—ya, perhaps, do you you care about me?” You tease, grinning widely at the sudden realization. “We have a really messed-up timeline but you already care about me as early as now, that’s cute!”

Minho from this time period could only roll his eyes at you against his sudden flustered feeling. If he was curious of your relationship with his future self when you first met, he’s curious as to how his future self keeps up with you this time. “Because you might be important to me in the future or something.” He bluffs to which you only chuckle fondly at. “I can’t really tell since you won’t tell me exactly how I know you in the future.”

“Well, what am I to you now?”

“A friend.” And he means it truthfully.

You’re momentarily taken aback, Minho sees even when you’re quick to hide it. Present Minho won’t even call you his best friend like you do to him. “Then just—just remember that until then.” You point out, smiling when you gaze over to his side and see his sincere expression. Something leaps in your chest at hearing him say those words without his usual playful tone of voice. It’s not what you’ve always been hoping for but it’s a start. “Won’t it be better if you just find out in the moment when it does happen?”

Minho wants to tell you that he can’t wait but his teasing nature always gets the best of him first, “Hm, maybe you don’t actually know me at all in the future, that’s why you’re always being vague when I ask you.”

You scoff, smacking his arm. “Ya!”

“So, really, what are you to me in the future?” He insists anyway, swiftly dodging your hits until he’s caught your wrist in his hands. “Friend? Best friend?”

A lover? He wanted to add further but he bites his tongue back just in time.

“I always call you my best friend but I’ve yet to hear the same thing from you so, honestly, how would I know when you’re so secretive with your true feelings all the time! I’m even surprised you answered my question just now.” You frown, unintentionally coming off as bitter in your tone of voice as you retract your hand back to your side. You place your cup down as well, careful of the remaining tea so it doesn’t accidentally spill on your hanbok. At this moment, you miss the way Minho’s expression turns into confusion. “If it helps, though, I can only tell you that you always let me in your house to hoard the wi-fi—which you don’t have to know about right now!—and you’ve kept me around long enough to know when you’re trying to lie to me or read my thoughts with your clairvoyance thing going on.”

Minho nods along, humming in thought. “So you’re a parasite?”

You inhale a deep breath, focusing all of your energy into restraining yourself from hitting him for a second time. “You’ve called me worse.” You sigh with a controlled laugh. “Expired dinner and ex-wife who has nowhere else to go are my personal favorites.”

Next to you, Minho’s eyes genuinely widen in curiosity. “We got married?”

“Um, no? No, no, it’s an expression!” You shake your head and snicker despite the contrasting heat on your neck. Minho grows flustered at sensing the blood rushing up to your face. “I don’t even know if you’re capable of romantic love, dude. You’re always kinda everywhere and nowhere.”

Minho’s not offended, though, especially not when you try to apologize after at realizing that you’re not as close with this version of him as you are with the version you know in your own time. “It’s fine.” He assures you with a shrug, knowing full well that you were just kidding around. “I’m guessing with that that I’m still single five centuries later.”

“That and a bit of a flirt, too.” You clarify before his words fully process in your head. “Wait, so that means you haven’t dated even before this?”

Minho shakes his head. “No, no one’s caught my eye yet.”

You purse your lips in thought of this new revelation. It’s in moments like this, when you’re meeting past selves of your immortal friends that you realize just how little you actually know of them. “Huh, I didn’t peg you as the type.”

“The type to what?”

You shrug slowly, hunching over in your seat. “To be the fall in love just once type? I don’t know...”

Chan has mentioned to you once about Minho believing in soulmates but you were quick to dismiss that then. Remembering that now, maybe he is right.

And, as if he has been reading your thoughts this entire time, Minho agrees with a nod. “Then, now you know. If you’ve lived as long as I have, soulmates are really nice to think about.”

“But you always tease me about it...you from the future at least.” You pout. “Again, no offense, it’s just that—from the way I know you in my time, you’re very confusing.”

When you glance over at Minho, you see him sit up straighter and lean closer to you again, your shoulders bumping against his as he tilts his head to meet your gaze. “Really? How am I confusing? Maybe I can help.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Ah, but that’s unfair. You’ll take note of this in the future again.”

“Your time’s five hundred years away, I’m sure I’ll forget this with time.” He assures you to no avail as evidenced by your squinted eyes.

“You remembered my ramen and coffee request from last time, though.” You argue back, making his eyes light up.

“I will?”

You nod, placing a finger on his forehead and pushing his face away from yours. “Yeah, so I don’t trust you. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Minho doesn’t bother you anymore about it for the rest of your one-year stay, which you’re more than grateful for.

present: February 22, 2020

He does, however, teases you about it again when you’re back to the present. Closing in on you in one of his bone-crushing hugs when you reappear in his room, he asks, “So, how was meeting me in the 1500s this time, best friend?”

“Excuse me, what did you say?” You furrow your brows at him, your arms going limp on your sides while your entire body freezes on the spot.

“I just called you my best friend.” He repeats casually with a shrug. “Why?”

Minho purposely omits the fact that he double-checked his old journals to make sure that you just time traveled to that period when you mentioned to him how he’s never called you his best friend. He’s been waiting for this opportunity to set it right with you since he didn’t know much of the context back then.

You shake your head in response, reluctantly hugging him back once you’ve regained feeling in your arms again. “Nothing, it’s just...”

“Dude, you’re acting like past me and present me are different people.” He chuckles against your hair, squeezing your frame once before pulling away. “So, we’re good, right? You’re not bitter about the whole best friend thing now?”

You frown, slapping his elbow to which he only chuckles at. “Who said I was bitter?”

“You did in 1592!” He teases, his mischievous grin softening into a fond smile after. “But seriously...sorry about that. I just think it’s cheesy to say most of the time but you really are...my best friend now I guess—maybe until you die in 50 years.”

Minho then runs away before you could even protest, prompting you to chase him out of his room and into the hallway. “Ya, Lee Minho! I’m going to kill you first, you brat!”

But you know that deep in your heart that he’s only joking (and also because Jeongin has gossiped to you once about accidentally reading one of Minho’s journal entries from the 1700s once about meeting someone who shares your name but was already working as a professor in university and may or may not already be a vampire).

present: February 29, 2020

“Okay, to refresh...” You mumble as you adjust the watch on your wrist and the switchblade Minho insisted on you keeping in your pants’ pockets. Next to you, said vampire’s is sprawled on his bed, a reviewer and highlighter in hand. “In 1895, Hyunjin was following Shiyeon around the world, Seungmin was starting out his photography career, Soojung was taking a beauty nap, Haseul was still sleeping, Changbin was going on a Jack the Killer rampage somewhere in Europe, Jisung was still a newborn, Felix, and Jeongin haven’t joined you yet, and Chan was...learning yoga with Eunhye? Is that right?”

“And I’ve met all versions of you by this time.” Minho adds in absentmindedly before going back to chanting his notes over and over again. He really doesn’t need to since he really has sharp memory these days but you let him study for whatever it is he’s studying, anyway, so he has something else to do besides Kart Rider and annoying his other friends. “Just tell past me who I’m meeting when you arrive since you know how I kept mixing graduate studies you and college thesis you up all the time.”

“That’s...you guys have lived lives.” You puff out a tired breath, making Minho glance up to you briefly and chuckle. “Sometimes, it makes me and Nari feel so small.”

“It’s not much.” The boy shrugs back. “It personally hasn’t felt that long.”

“And why’s that?” You hum curiously.

He mumbles something behind his paper but you don’t hear it well. When you ask him about it, he only shakes his head and kicks you with his socket foot, urging you to go already.

Minho actually said, “It’s because you’ve been with me the entire time.” but he’ll just tell you all about it later when you come back.

With a scoff, you then swat his foot away and bid him goodbye. “Fine, see you later then.”

“I’ll organize your notes until then. Bye.”

past: July 1895

Minho sets your location on your watch to his house, now renovated to what was considered modern then. You’ve been here countless of times, albeit in different time periods of your own past (the last being when you had to ask for his help in the 1860s about your graduate thesis), but you’ve never been here in the 1890s, not when a newborn Jisung had the self-control of a toddler and immediately tried pouncing on you the moment he smelled you on their front lawn.

Now you know what the switchblade is for (and the one time Jisung kept apologizing to you in the 1910s).

“Ji, calm down!” Minho growls in annoyance, holding the younger boy by his arms as he drags him back inside the house. He can feel your anxiousness increase just by looking at this unfamiliar side of Jisung, prompting him to send you an apologizing look. “Sorry, um, Y/N, I—”

“I-It’s...it’s fine.” You assure shakily with a curt nod, taking a step back as well when Jisung tries regaining two steps towards you again. “I think I came in the wrong day.”

“It depends. What are you here for?” He asks, his voice growing faint as he successfully manages to lock Jisung inside the house. He then quickly jogs back to you, examining your face for any recognizable hints of where you could be from.

“Doctorate thesis.” You answer for him, earning you a look of realization from him.

“Oh, it’s you.” He smiles in relief. You remember distinctly how these were also the very same words he told you when you first met him in a time travel. “I was thinking you’d never come back.”

You feign a frown in front of him, making him laugh. “Why? Did you think I wouldn’t finish my studies?”

“It’s just that the next time you came back, from my point of view, is when you were only in college to ask me about the 1810s.” He clarifies, to which you nod in understanding. So he does remember. “I thought it weird at first that you didn’t come back sooner to finish your doctorate.”

“Ah, well, you in 2020 has been a big help—well, him and a shit ton of books.” You chuckle awkwardly. “This is my last trip for my doctorate, actually, since I have the smallest amount of resources for Queen Min.”

“T-This is—this is your last?”

You smirk at his briefly dejected expression, elbowing him gently. “Why do you look so sad? You already know we’ll meet again in the future. Plus, you’ll still meet younger versions of me later on for my college requirements which is a bit confusing to hear right now but you’ll get it later!”

Minho opens his mouth to speak, initially to tell you something about being frustrated that he’s only seen glimpses (and different versions) of you throughout his life so far, but he’s suddenly cut off by Jisung banging wildly against the front door, making him and you flinch.

“Um...what if we deal with Jisung first?” You suggest. “I assure you we’re all going to be great friends in the future but no one really told me that this would happen.”

Minho nods slowly next to you, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Yeah, we should probably take care of him first before your thesis. You could spare five minutes to sit down, right?”

“Definitely.”

And so, you spend the rest of your first day getting Jisung to calm down in your presence.

present: February 29, 2020

“Chan, babe, please, please, please promise that you won’t flinch when we use the party poppers later.” Eunhye sighs exasperatedly as she leads everyone into organizing the kitchen and living room. “Felix, good job on the cookies by the way! They turned out really well! Jisung, hurry up with that banner!”

“Babe, I don’t flinch!” Chan yells across the hallway as he re-checks if everyone will have enough party hats, trumpets, and poppers for later.

“Yes you do!”

“What’s so significant about today, anyway?” Nari asks Jeongin as the two enter the apartment with boxes upon boxes of blood bags and alcoholic drinks. “Besides Y/N finishing their thesis, of course.”

Shiyeon and Hyunjin follow closely behind with take-out boxes of chicken wings. “Because today is Y/N’s last time travel before they become a professor! A lot of good things are going to happen after, trust me.” Shiyeon answers with a wink.

“How come you know all of that? You were barely with us in the 1800s.” Jisung asks while struggling to put the other end of your congratulations banner across the kitchen. Soojung is on the other end, arm beginning to fall asleep as she holds up the other end of the banner for Jisung. “Even Jeongin and Felix don’t know that.”

“There’s a thing called correspondence and Hyunjin was a diligent gossiper.” Shiyeon only chuckles, setting down the take-out boxes on the countertop. “Also, hey, I was there in one of Y/N’s visits! It just hasn’t happened in our timeline yet but it will in three years!”

Minho then emerges from his room, phone in hand counting down the seconds until you’re back again. “Okay, we have two hours to get everything ready.”

“Lee Minho where have you been this entire time!” Eunhye complains, finally taking the boy’s presence to take a seat. “I’ve been organizing everyone for a whole ten minutes!”

“You mean you have two hours to get ready.” Haseul teases, seated on one of the dining table chairs and helping Changbin, Seungmin, and Felix make proper chocolates this time. “Don’t you have something else important you need to prepare?”

“No, I can just wing it.” Minho dismisses to which Chan immediately laughs at, catching the younger boy’s panicked expression.

“Sure you do.” Seungmin dryly responds, to which everyone topples over in laughter.

past: November 1905

“You’ll see me again in five years, at least from your point of view.” You assure Minho from 1905 right before you leave. Jisung’s apologizing again about the incident last time but you’re quick to hug him and effectively shut him up. “The one you’ll meet in 1910 is going to be a little different, though, a little younger.”

“But it’s still you.”

You smile at this. “Yeah, still me.”

Minho wants to tell you so badly that he’s met another version of you while you were away, someone older, but he quickly pushes the thought at the back of his head. Is this how you feel holding back spoilers from him? Instead, he ops to tease you. “You know, when people usually meet, it’s not as backwards as us.” When you raise an eyebrow at him, he continues, “You keep meeting me from the past and I’ve met you from the future countless of times. Even if culture’s going to be different in the future, I’m pretty sure this is still not how it goes there.”

Finally, understanding, you let out a laugh, hitting his side playfully. “Definitely not.” You agree sheepishly. “But I think that makes it even more special. It makes you wait until we’re in the same time, right?”

Minho nods. “What date are you going back to again?”

“February 29, 2020. Why?”

He says nothing else on it but bids you goodbye with one last hug instead. “Nothing. I’ll see you again soon...or another version of you.”

“And I’ll see future you.” You chuckle before disappearing.

present: February 29, 2020

You come back to all the lights in Minho’s apartment turned off at the present. You hear whispers and the soft clicking of a lighter as well, prompting you to follow the noise outside.

“I think it’s better if Changbin doesn’t hold the cake, don’t you think?” You recognize Haseul’s loud voice even from the hallways, fueling your curiosity even further.

A slight pause then follows before you hear Chan agree, “Yeah. Hyunjin, you hold the other cake.”

“Lix, you’re stepping on my foot.” That’s Jisung, you know by the way he’s always whiny when he complains.

“Oh shit, sorry!”

“Everyone, quiet! Y/N’s on their way!” Nari scolds and the hushes then quickly fall silent once you reach the kitchen, flipping the light switch on the hallway to the sound of party poppers exploding right in front of you. Only then do you see the big ‘CONGRATULATIONS Y/N!’ banner hanging right above everyone standing in a line with cake, hats, and trumpets.

“Um?” You raise an eyebrow at everyone, breaking out into an uncontrollable grin. “What’s with all this?”

Minho of your time then walks over to you with a Toblerone cake, carefully protecting two candles from the breeze that enters through the windows. “Chan and Eunhye insisted on a party so...congrats on finishing your thesis!”

Over his shoulder, said vampire and immortal immediately shake their heads in denial. “It’s his idea!” Eunhye mouths to you with a smirk, making you chuckle.

You then turn to Minho with a smile. “I haven’t even finished writing it yet.” You point out only for your best friend to shrug nonchalantly. “And my graduation’s in a month.”

“Yeah, we can work on that once everyone’s out of the apartment.” He suggests. “Now, just blow on the candles first, Seungmin’s arms are about to fall off waiting to take a picture.”

You briefly apologize to Seungmin on the side with a sheepish laugh, blowing on the cake’s candles after to the many snaps of his film camera. “Thank you for all this. I really appreciate it, you guys!” You thank your guests after, approaching them with Minho on your side this time.

“We can call you Professor now, right?” Hyunjin playfully asks, elbowing you gently on your side.

“It makes me sound really old.” You pout, making him laugh. “In a few years.”

“Three years.” Shiyeon coughs to which Minho immediately glares them down for.

Catching this gesture, you decide on purposely ignoring it for now. You’ll have to ask Shiyeon what they mean with that later. “Anyway, let’s eat. Have you guys been here long?”

“Not really but I’m already starving!” Soojung exclaims, passing you a plate and utensils. Next to her, Felix and Chan instinctively open up all the take-out boxes of food for everyone to dig in.

“Alright, let’s eat!”

present: March 1, 2020

Minho kicks everyone out after by the strike of midnight, when all the food’s been devoured and the party games have been played at least twice. Surprisingly, even Jisung and Jeongin were directed outside by Minho at this time, which you immediately ask him about once the two boys are out of the door. “Don’t those two live here?” You joke with a dry chuckle. “You don’t have to kick them out so we can work.”

“They’ll come back later.” Minho gently shuts the door before turning to you as you stand with your arms crossed in front of your chest, a genuinely curious expression on your face. “I just...need a moment with you.”

You pretend to take a step back with your best dramatic expression of fear. “Oh my God, you’re going to kill me after eight years of friendship, right?”

“What? No.” Minho furrows his brows at this, making you laugh. “It’s just...fuck, now I’m off-tracked.”

You giggle this time, loosening your arms in front of you. “What is it, Minho?”

There have been times, both in the past and present though rare, when Minho has looked nervous in front of you. The last time he was, from what you can remember, was when he was about to tell you that he accidentally killed the squirrel in the apartment’s back garden but even then, he wasn’t as nervous as he is now—fiddling with the hem of his blue sweater for a brief moment before finally taking the courage to step closer to you. “I-I, um—” He stammers out, one hand instinctively going up to his nape. “What I want to say is that...remember when I asked you in 1592 about how I know you?”

“You just teased me about that last week.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to ease the sudden awkwardness, only to make it even worse for Minho. With this, your expression immediately contorts into worry. “What about it?”

“Then in 1905, where you just came back from, you told me we’ll meet in the right time eventually...” He continues after a while, smiling back when you do reassuringly. “In between those centuries, of course, y-you—you came in for your college homework and your Masteral’s but there was also...there was also someone else.”

This unexpected turn drops something heavy on your stomach, your smile unconsciously faltering. Minho wants to snicker but, knowing you, you’ll probably think of him cold if he does so he takes in a deep breath and tries his best to continue with less stutters this time. “Don’t be too sad, it’s still you, just a few months in the future.” He assures with a chuckle, hands instinctively going up to your sides to rub your arms comfortingly. Your eyes widen at this in response and you freeze in his touch. “Anyway, July 2020 Y/N just told me to do something tonight, if that’s okay.”

It takes you a moment to respond but Minho patiently waits, holding back his laugh by biting his lip down. He’s reading your thoughts as they go into overdrive. Is this how you feel when I hide the future from you before? You internally ask to which he nods at. “U-Um, so...what are you going to do?”

“Just tell you that I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” Minho finally confesses, sighing in relief once he’s gotten the words out surprisingly well. “And if you’d like to go out for a trip after your graduation—and not the time travel trip, this time so we can be together right.”

There’s more to it, actually, Minho has a whole paper written and rehearsed for a span of almost three centuries but he figures you’ll find out about it eventually. He could tell you about how he’s been in love with every version of you that he’s met in the past another time or maybe you already know it.

“So?” He asks after a while when you don’t speak verbally. Your thoughts are still muddled and your heartbeat’s a little too fast for his liking but he holds any impulsive urge he might have in for your sake. “What do you say?”

You purse your lips once, mustering up a relieved smile at him after. “You already met me from the future this time—which I commend you for, by the way, because you’ve one-upped me again this time!—so I think you already know the answer to that.”

epilogue

past: July 1799

You know full well that you’re not supposed to travel back in time for personal reasons, especially not for the reason you’re coming into 1799 to see a past Minho for, but you figure that you’re already in your university’s faculty roster. If I get caught, you think to yourself as you easily spot Minho with Chan at an art exhibit in Paris, the professors will probably understand.

“Minho! Chan!” You call with your hand above your head waving frantically at the two, catching theirs and a few patrons’ attentions. You don’t mind the extra attention as you approach him, though, since they did instinctively made way for you because of it. “Hello there, you two!”

“Hi, Y/N!” Chan greets you happily, giving you a side hug. “Aren’t you back too soon?”

But knowing full well that you’re probably not the same one the two met last time, Minho smirks in amusement as he eyes your choice of clothes and asks, “And where did you come from? By the clothes, me from the future probably doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Yeah, I picked out my own clothes for today. Anyway, I won’t be here long.” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. “I’m from July 2020 and I’m not here for any academic work this time! I just wanted to ask you a quick favor.”

From what you’ve detailed in your own journals, the last time you met from this particular Minho’s point of view was when you were doing a paper on the Baroque movement for one of your college classes.

“What is it?” He asks you anyway, his body turned away from the painting that he and Chan have been previously admiring as he gives you his full attention.

Judging from the amount of times you’ve visited him (and the different versions of you he’s meet as well), his future self seems to agree on your requests all the time.

“I can’t tell you much but please prepare something on February 29, 2020!” You answer, your watch beeping on your side to remind you that it’s almost time to leave. “And make sure to mention me! Remember, Y/N from July 2020!”

Before he could ask about it, further, however, you were already gone.

“What do you think that was about, Chan?” Minho asks the older vampire instead.

But Chan simply shrugs, hands going deeper in his pockets as he thinks. “No idea.” He admits in equal confusion. “Guess we’ll have to see in three hundred years.”

219 notes · View notes

americasmarauders · 4 years

Text

American Pie--Jason Todd.

author’s note: this has been on my drafts for an eternity. I finished this out of pure self-pressure and shame instileld by a tag game @batarella tagged me. I literally finished this in the treadmill, which I found is my favorite place to write.I wanna thank @batarella and @offendedfishnoises for being real troopers and encouraging me and proofreading this.

words: 2284

Beware: curse words (cause i’m a potty mouth), Jason being a shy pinning boy. I reccomend you listen to (or at least look at the lyrics for) American Pie by Don McLean and OUr Song by Taylor Swift.

Silence.

Excruciating silence. That was what Jason remembered from death.

He remembered thinking ‘This will be the day that I die,’ before the world turning black and silence overtook his entire being killing what was left of his soul.

After that it is all he remembered: silence.

He used to think music was everything. When he was bored, he used to bolt out to the most random songs in his room at the Wayne Manor, to the point of an angry Bruce storming to his room and quietly turning down the volume.

It took him a while to look fondly at those memories, and he still wasn’t sure if he did look at them like that. He was at the point of just thinking of them as just that: memories so far away from who he was, he considered them to belong to a different person entirely.

Music just didn’t hold the same wonder and joy as it did. Jason didn’t belt out whatever song he wanted anymore, he just idly stood by as any song came on whatever radio he was listening while he waited on his patrols.

It was like the music died with him.

He sipped his drink as a light jazzy tune sounded in the background of his mind. He didn’t pay any attention to it, rather he was engrossed in his own sorrow to listen to any of the diner’s songs.

He hummed in indifference, looking up from his cup and looking around. It was the middle of the afternoon, and the diner was mostly empty. There was a girl in the back, messing with the jukebox. Jason took a good look at her.

She was wearing a plaid skirt, with a bright orange cropped blouse. She wore her hair loose. She looked too engrossed in her song choice to realize anyone looking at her. He glanced at the table next to her: filled with books and old cups he assumed were once filled with coffee.

He heard an angry curse and saw her shaking aggressively the jukebox. “You, know,” he spoke up, “I’m not an expert on jukeboxes or anythin’ but I’m pretty sure that’s not how they work.”

She looked at him bewildered. She narrowed her eyes at him, almost as if she were trying to dissect him in a split second. “This machine swallowed my quarter and will not let me select a song.”

He abandoned his cup and got up, heading towards the weird lady. “Let me see if I can help.”

She stepped aside and left room for him to see what happened. “By all means.”

He quickly analyzed it. He glanced at the woman next to him, her arms crossed over her chest, meticulously analyzing what Jason was doing. He hit the spot next to the coin slot and heard the coin going down the mechanism. He got up and said: “There. All fixed.”

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been trying forever to get this thing to work and you come here and just make it work in seconds.” She turned to the jukebox and muttered, “Don’t you love me anymore, you silly machine?”

Jason laughed. “I’m Jason,” he said, extending his hand.

She took it and shook it. “I’m Y/N.”

“Well,” Jason stated awkwardly, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“No, wait!” she said. “Sit with me. I see you’re there all alone, and I need someone to listen to my thesis,” she explained. “You seem like a nice guy, you know? What do you say? I’ll buy you a milkshake,” she smiled.

Jason pondered. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. And maybe a little company would do him well. She seemed perfectly nice, albeit a little weird. Why not?

“What are you working on?” he said, sitting opposite to where she was.

She smiled and went on and on about her research. To be completely honest, Jason only understood about half of what she was saying, and every time he made a funny face she would pause and patiently explain it again until his face melted into something resembling understanding. She would smile at him, and his heart hiccupped every time she did.

She bought him a drink, and they stayed at the diner for a while. Jason discovered she wasn't from Gotham--not that it was hard to see, she had invited a complete stranger to sit with her in a shady diner in one of the worst neighborhoods of the city. She was a student, getting her master's in something too complicated to explain in the hours they spent together. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she talked about her research. Jason liked that.

He offered to walk her home. She refused. He smiled and gave her a knowing look. "Listen, I'm sure you know Gotham ain't a safe city,” he said. "Imagine it at night," he should know. He was a witness and victim of the horrors of Gotham.

She budged. He carried her books for her. She seemed grateful. She tried the whole afternoon to get him to talk about himself. Jason didn't want to scare her off, so he gave her the bare minimum. Do you have a degree? No, but I'd like to. What do you do? I'm a freelancer. Do you have any siblings? No.

Looking back at the moment she stood in front of her building, lit by streetlights, eyes twinkling with something Jason wouldn't recognize until much later, he knew he should have kissed her. He shouldn't have held her at arm’s length for so long. Alas, he had. He didn't kiss her. She says he was a perfect gentleman. He knows that. It doesn't mean he doesn't have regrets.

She gave him her phone number. "I liked talking to you. If you're ever around the diner again, call me. I'll save all the good stuff for you," she winked. He laughed. He saved her phone number as if it was the most precious thing in the world. It kinda was.

He texted her. He went to the diner, intentionally. He had to see her.

No, he didn't. He didn't have to see her. If he didn't, it would have been another 'what if' of his life. He would survive, and maybe regret that he had chosen what he had chosen. The difference was he wanted to see her. And he hadn't done something he wanted in a very long time.

He was the first to arrive. He sat by the window, looking at the city. The sun was setting, there was an orange glow illuminating the diner. He awkwardly fiddled with his straw, stirring the milkshake (strawberry as always, he wasn't an animal like Tim) calmly. He heard the bell ringing.

She walked in and Jason swore she was an angel. The light hugged her, and he thought she was there to save him. Save him from himself, from the nightmares, from his job, from his trauma. She smiled at him and he was goner. Second time seeing her and he was gone. He fell for her.

She was wearing glasses, her hair tied, sweatpants and a Gotham University t-shirt. Her bag hung from her shoulder, her hand wrapped tightly around the strap. She wasn’t nowhere near as dressed up as last time he saw her. It didn't matter. She was beautiful either way. She fixed her glasses as she sat in front of him.

She ordered some tea, and Jason thought who orders tea in a diner. She did. Y/N was extraordinary that way. She said she had thought about him. He somehow believed her. He smiled back at her and sipped his milkshake.

“I brought you something,” she said. She dug through her purse and took out a book. She slid it to him over the table. His hands unfurled from his cup and grabbed it. His eyes skimmed over the hardcover. Shakespeare’s Sonnets. A rare edition at that. “I think you might've read it already,” she shrugged. “You mentioned you liked Shakespeare. I was walking through a book shop near the University and I saw this edition and I thought of you.”

Jason flipped through the book, the smell of dust filing his senses. That was the smell of a good book. A book that had seen many lives. He loved it. He looked at her, her eyes expecting a reaction of him. He offered her a shy smile. She took it and her smile was so bright it almost blinded him. “Thank you. I—I— It’s very thoughtful of you.”

“You’re welcome, Jason,” she replied. “I thought you would like it.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He held back once again. He wanted to tell her that he loved it. That it was probably one of the best gifts he had ever received. “I liked it.”

She reclined on the seat and smirked. “It’s quiet here, isn’t it?” she said. Jason looked at her quizzically, his hands resting on the book. He saw her get up from her seat, a coin on her hand. She put the quarter on the jukebox and selected a song. She seemed proud of herself as Jason watched her with nothing but wonder. She sat in front of him again, as a piano played on the background and a voice of a man sounded through the tune.

“I love this song,” she stated. “Don’t you?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know it.”

She was shocked. “You don’t? That’s a first. Someone that doesn’t know ‘American Pie’.”

“Isn’t that a movie?” he asked. With the limited popular culture knowledge he had, he still knew some things.

“Yes it is, but it was a song before that. By Don McLean. 1971,” she hummed with the tune. “It’s like poetry.”

He gave her a funny face. “I hardly think it’s like poetry.”

She gasped, pretending to be offended. “Betrayal,” she whispered, but soon after she smiled. “It’s because you’re not appreciating it enough,” she answered. She grabbed another quarter of her purse and got up. She pointed to him as she walked to the jukebox. “Listen to it and pay attention.”

“Fine,” Jason huffed. He didn’t want to tell her that his appreciation for music had died with him. Not yet.

He listened to it. Really did. Truthfully, he hadn’t understood a single word of what he meant, but Y/N seemed happy that at least he had somewhat liked the song. It was catchy. But he would hardly classify it as poetry.

"I'll convince you. Music is everything," she said.

So it began her quest to culture Jason, as she called it. He found it endearing to say the least. His judgement was seriously clouded.

She would send recommendations to him, writing extensively how these songs were everything to her. Because of that Jason would pay extra attention to it.

It felt strangely personal to listen to them with them in mind. It was like listening to a part of her soul. It might as well be that. She was entrusting him with a part of her, and he wasn't exactly worthy of that.

He felt dangerously unprotected around her. Jason was constantly toying with the line between keeping up his eccentric bad boy façade and opening his heart to her. Who was he kidding? He already had opened his heart to her. He just hadn't told her yet. He didn't know if he was going to.

Reading the sonnets suddenly felt extremely personal too. It wasn't about appreciating art anymore. He was living the love poems. He was feeling everything Shakespeare was describing. Desperation rose in him the first time he realized that.

How was he supposed to continue with his job--oh God, his job--when there was someone out there that cared if he was dead or alive? How was he going to blackmail a drug lord when he himself could be blackmailed? What was he going to say to Bruce? What was he supposed to do?

A soft pop song played on the radio. They were going through pop songs now. Y/N had said it was imperative that he'd listen to Taylor Swift. And Jason could admit she had a point.

As he drove through the quiet highway, his hand itched to hold hers. They were driving to Metropolis. She had said there was an exhibit that they couldn't miss. A science exhibit. Jason didn't care for science, but she did, and seeing her with that glint in her eyes was the best part of his day.

Fuck it, he thought. His hand left the shift and encapsulated hers. He could feel her gaze on him, he knew she was smiling. His heart almost jumped out of his chest. Thank God, he was alive.

She turned down the volume of the song. His eyes shifted to hers for a second, her expression neutral. "What's wrong?" He said, his voice bordering desperation.

"We don't have a song," she said, quietly. "We don't have a song," she repeated.

Jason's worry dissipated into thin air, and he opened a smile. "Of course we do."

"How? I don't remember ever--" she trailed off, looking confused at him. His eyes once again went to her, his smile soft.

"How about laughs, the soft sound of cars outside? The jazzy tune you always play on the fucking jukebox," he heard her laugh, his hands squeezed hers. "Reciting poems, you rambling about whatever you discovered? Huh?" he hummed. "That's our song."

She smiled at him one again. And that was when he knew what he was supposed to do.

He was supposed to live. And he was going to live with her by his side.

author’s note: here is the link to my masterlist and the link to my jason playlist

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x y/n #Jason Todd #red hood x reader #Red Hood X y/n #red hood #red hood x oc #my masterlist

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steve0discusses · 4 years

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Yugioh Ep 34 S4: The Boys (and Mai) are Back in Town

OK, back to the writing table! It’s been a while! So I made the mistake of like...scrolling down on the playlist when I realized...

This duel is like 6 episodes long (7 even? It’s a lot) and like...yo I have no idea if we’ll finish this season in 2020! Damn you 2020. Damn you.

But wtv, what I like about this side project of mine is that I don’t have to rush things, and I can really spend the time with each episode and just...enjoy the moment. So often I watch a whole series in like half a week and then it’s like...I don’t get to enjoy it. This series I’ve enjoyed for years now. That’s kinda neat. So...we’re gonna be slow...but lets just enjoy this weird ass anime moment together. 2020 deadlines are all fake anyway. I’m not even sure if 2020 was a real thing that happened or like...an alternate universe opening a door and letting through just so many terrible ghosts. We might never know.

Last we left off, everyone has decided to hallucinate Dartz’ terrible backstory.

Unfortunately we have NO darts in the past. Was really hoping to see at least one darts reference in this entire season, just one darts board on his wall. But alas, we will not have a Season Zero death darts match with Dartz. (Man I need to get back to Season Zero. And FMA. And a lot of things)

I feel like if I watched the original version there would have been some things different. First off...what ocean? Second off...well, we’ll get to that. There’s some things I think were changed for English TV.

Including censoring the nude people like it’s James Cameron’s Avatar.

Fun fact did you know that James Cameron’s Avatar was supposed to be ass naked and that they were supposed to have like 8 cat nipples? Yeah.

Man, that movie was a mistake. I’m so glad we all decided to collectively forget James Cameron’s Avatar.

(read more under the cut)

The actual locations of anything in Atlantis does not match up with it when it’s zoomed out. We have giant cities, we have sprawling wheat fields, and we have...THIS situation. This active volcano next to...pine trees?

I feel like they wanted it to feel vaguely Pompeii, since I know people like to put Atlantis in the Mediterranean. Maybe? Maybe that’s what they were going for here?

One of my top ten favorite Yugioh plot twists ever was finding out this episode that this snake who has no limbs somehow created these...rocks...that all of our main characters have been wearing and obsessing over this entire time.

And so this is my theory, this is the thesis of my Yugioh college paper. These rocks are turds. There’s no way these rocks aren’t turds. There’s no way this snake didn’t poop out a bunch of glowy magic stones and then stuff them into a volcano.

THE ROCKS WERE TURDS THE WHOLE TIME.

God bless, Yugioh.

Seto spends this entire episode groveling that he isn’t playing cards that will absolutely kill him. Like Mokuba, Seto isn’t happy until he’s cheating death.

(I really wish we got more super past future tech. I love that type of concept art. Instead, we just got a lot of flying boats--the same boat that I think the team flew on in S1 when they went to Seto’s video game universe.

So those boats are 10,000 years old? They existed in the 10,000 year old Pangea, huh?

Neat.)

Anyway, lets take a gander at Princess Zelda circa Ocarina of Time.

SUPER princess Zelda, and I know it’s not 1:1 but damn it feels so much like a late 90′s Princess Zelda outfit to me. Check out that PURPLE. That low poly circlet. The random ass sword. The thick ass belt.

Also check out this super dead family.

Yo so this is a 00′s thing, a period of time where we liked to tell stories like LOST, with just a bunch of random ass plot twists in flashbacks instead of just...telling a story from start to finish. And can be a great and fun way to do it--but at the sacrifice of actually making me care about these characters while they were still alive.

Like I would have maybe cared about Chris and Ironheart dying if I had known that Dartz was killing his whole family? With...lightning strikes? But alas, these dumbasses decided NOT to tell us they were royal. It’s so strange both from a logical perspective and a storytelling perspective.

Man...missed opportunity, IMO, but I can see why they did it. The wanted the ‘Gotcha!’ I feel ambivalent about it, honestly.

And who am I kidding, people are still doing unpredictable plot twists this. It’s a way to tell a story. Is it the most impactful way? No. It’s...it’s a gotcha!

It’s at this point in the story that things start ramping up, but it’s not clear if it takes place over years or just a couple hours. People just start going a little cray and turning into Monsters.

Straight up, though--did they turn into monsters that already existed and are modern Duel Monster cards, or are the monsters from modern Duel Monsters cards actually descendants of Atlantis who were once human?

They don’t say, actually. Maybe...maybe every card was a human once. That would be a freakin weird Yugioh twist if Kuriboh was like a 45 year old dude.

PS Dartz was married...soak that in.

ROMANCE ON YUGIOH ALERT.

Love it every time. She was there for like...half a second, and Dartz was like throwing so much shade about how “only the people with evil in their hearts were turned” and it’s like...

...dude that’s your wife? OK then. I can see you guys got along real well.

Anyway, so long to the ship of IonaxDartz, you were here for even less than the amount of time that Seto dated Blue Eyes White Dragon in a hallucination, which kind of sets a new record for us.

This might be the shortest-lived ship in all of Yugioh and they have a 12 year old daughter and what I assume was a 12 year marriage for that entire time.

that is if they...HAD the concept of marriage 10,000 years ago on Atlantis Pangea island. Maybe?

I mean they might have not had the concept of dating and marriage yet because he gets over this like immediately. The show will never hover back to that time Dartz watched his own wife turn into a creature. We have no idea if he was like “OK honey lets uh...let just get you a haircut and maybe no one will notice?” We have no idea how long he was desperately trying to remain married to the beast that was no longer human and was also trying to eat everyone else in his court. We just don’t know.

Dartz just had a lot of other things to think about. He’s been King for like...a year...he’s only 21...he’s just doing a bad job at everything.

(Biden opens Pres Trumps bedroom in the White House come January and it’s juts full of glowing green evil golf balls) (OK that was my last 2020 joke I swear to you)

Anyway, Dad is here, but it’s a little too late to really do anything with the situation. Everyone is worshiping little snake turds. What can you really do about that?

One eye golden, the other eye, the color of a glistening Leviathan turd.

After the rest of the surviving royal family was chased out of the castle, Dartz decides to just wave his hands around a lot.

I’m not entirely sure what Kings do...never really had one...but I think they’re supposed to do more than wave their hands at a crowd like the Pope. Like...everyone’s dead right? Like everyone?

Who’s he talking to?

Meanwhile, Chris and Ironheart decide to revive some monster tablets to get some real actual duel monsters to do their bidding.

So apparently some monsters are in the tablets, and other’s have just always been here...and...

They didn’t know violence but they did have the cards?

There’s a lot of vague stuff they didn’t feel like ever writing, because it would have probably been boring to write about. I guess we’ll just let our imagination fill in the rest and ignore all the inconsistencies. It’s a kid’s anime. well........kind of a kid’s anime. A lot of people have died this episode and I don’t even know how to add it to the death count.

How many people live in Atlantis? I dunno.

Are the inhabitants of Atlantis even dead, or are they just turned into Monster cards? I dunno. Clearly the Great Leviathan wasn’t awoken this first battle so...did all those souls get returned? I dunno.

Either way I’m not gonna bother the death count about it because I just do not know if they died, and since it was neither an implied death or an on screen death...I dunno.

Just feels like a bit of a translation snafu--where maybe they couldn’t kill that many people on English TV, so they were like “AND IT’S A DRAW!” but also...it could be canon to both versions. The leviathan didn’t work the first time, maybe no one died? I dunno.

In this shot, PS, Raphael just gently backs up out of this flying plane, and it looked really funny to me. I probs won’t cap it because it’s split between two other cuts, but just...they just kind of moved that sprite to the right really slowly, no animation, it was great.

Dartz decides to end the backstory hallucination, and we get introduced to a new twist--a better twist than that last one, that’s right, all our boys are cards!

Including this asshole!

Been a while since our boys have been cards! Man, I miss Bakura!

Yes, I looked back to earlier episodes this season to see what was going on with Pegasus’ new look. I think what happened is that it’s always been this shade of gray purple--but when you put purple next to it’s opposing color (which is yellow colors) it looks even MORE purple. It’s just how color works. Love color theory. mm. Good stuff. Good purple hair.

I can’t wait until Yami kills Yugi for the 3rd time in one season.

Anyway, that’s all for now, and like always, here’s a link to read these in chrono order.

#ygo #yugioh #yu-gi-oh #recap #photo recap #episode recap #yami yugi #seto kaiba #Dartz #I don't know if he has a last name or if they were invented yet #Dartz' hot wife #Yugi muto #Joey Wheeler #Mai Valentine #maxamillion pegasus #Raphael #s4 #ep 34

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

Black Cloth and Star Systems- Fusion AU

Ao3, MasterPost, More of This AU

Legally speaking this is the second installment in my fusion au, and u should definitely read the first one!! but it is not necessary to understand this one.

Relationships: Romantic Analogical, (briefly) mentioned romantic Royality

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, minor insecurity (it is Logan after all), one (1) kiss, excessive cuddling, Virgil and the Logan/Virgil fusion both have monster-like traits (big teef, pointy ears, nocturnal eyes, etc.), the fusion is also agender because I said so, and seriously lots of flowery descriptions cuz I was really having a good time with this one. Oh, and lack of sleep/unhealthy sleep schedules, brief mention of paranoia (very very minor), and I think I accidentally implied that Virgil has ADHD but that’s par for the course.

Word Count: 3,797

Logan stared at the ceiling of his room, tired eyes tracing over the patterns etched into it. They were irregular, scrawls and lines that bumped up from the plaster and stretched on and on. If he squinted, they could almost look like maps- charting and directing the reader across a very foreign land, and in addition the reader might not be good with following maps, which would explain why this one seemed so vague. Or maybe it wasn’t showing a place at all. Nowhere real, at the very least.

Oh, what the fuck was he talking about. The ceiling was a goddamn ceiling, and Logan was exhausted.

Sleeping would be the ideal solution, and it was something he definitely wasn’t opposed to, but by this point it was borderline impossible. Logan could shut his eyes, but he knew all he’d see would be that blinding flash of pink light. He could try and try to relax beneath his blanket, but still he would see double-set of eyes, swirling between emerald green and cinnamon brown, set behind big cutesy-framed glasses. He’d picture those two pairs of arms, that staggering display of height, and the body that was decorated with gold and crimson and sky-blue.

What he was seeing was beyond understanding, and it was all that he could think about. His friends had fused. Patton and Roman, out of pretty much nowhere, had become one being right before everyone’s eyes. One burly, talkative, and endlessly fascinating being.

Like any person who persistently sought knowledge, Logan had taken to investigating the new creature at once. He’d had questions, burning questions, but Patron- as he’d named himself- had requested some alone time in his new form. It was a perfectly reasonable ask, so Logan resolved to postpone his interviewing until Patron was ready. But then, just as he was looking forward to finding out more about him that next morning, he was back to being two sides. Two sickeningly sweet sides who were way too caught up in their new relationship to answer any of Logan’s questions copacetically (All their answers had been full of purple prose, talking about how fusing was just the most amazing thing, and providing no real insight into it at all).

Logan, presented with bizarre occurrences and offered no explanation, was understandably restless, abuzz with curiosity, and frustrated. And, if he was being honest, he was interested in the topic beyond what could be considered objective study, as well.

Very interested, in fact. He found himself wondering that… perhaps… Was he also capable of fusion?

Yes, the best way to learn about it would be to experience first-hand, so that would solve that problem. But that was hardly Logan’s entire reason for wanting to try it; Patton had soundly reported that forming Patron helped his and Roman’s communication by miles. Specifically vis a vis their more affectionate emotions, which really ended up being the thesis of the whole ordeal. It was, fundamentally, a very affectionate thing.

Logan sat up abruptly, shooting a glare at his door from across the room. This was getting ridiculous; it would be a horrible idea to try something as significant as fusing with so little information on it. Just because it seemed self-explanatory didn’t mean that it was, and the results could be unstable and catastrophic!

But.

But it wouldn’t be. There was the side he knew- the side he trusted- well enough to believe that it wouldn’t really go so awry.

Logan was making excuses.

What was there to be explained verbally that wouldn’t be much easier to just experience? Patron had proved two things: 1, fusing could happen, and 2, fusing could un-happen without issue. Any of the specifics would be figured out best by firsthand experience, that was pretty evident.

So Logan was making a few excuses, and maybe he was a bit scared about the whole thing, but so what? It was a moot point anyway, because Virgil would never want to participate in it, anyway. The idea of fusion would only upset the anxious side, maybe send him spiraling, and that was the last thing Logan wanted.

With a groan, Logan flopped back down onto his bed, resuming his studious observation of the popcorn-patterned ceiling.

…

Yeah, it wasn’t working.

Logan dragged himself up yet again, flinging the covers off of his legs harshly. He sat, immobile, glaring down just past the foot of his bed for an uncertain amount of time. He then heaved a very over dramatic sigh, kicked his legs over the side of his mattress, and stood. He set his feet down as though the carpet had personally wronged him, trodding across the room and throwing his door open with the same temperament.

The hallway was pitch dark, but Logan barely noticed it. He made his way down the stairs, the map of the Mindpalace splaying out in his head and directing him as well as light would. As soon as he hit the bottom of the stairs, his (moody) stomping ceased, for the time being. He tipped his head to one side, confused, as he listened out.

There was a perfect silence.

An abrupt perfect silence. The very specific type of quiet that was too clearly manufactured. Such a- a tense hush could only be brought about by someone deliberately holding their breath.

Logan shuffled his feet, peering into the blackness. Something shifted over by the couch, and the gleam of two reflectively-paneled eyes made themselves apparent. Logan yelped in fright, stumbling over his legs and bumping his back into the wall.

There was a thump from across the room, a curse of ‘oh, shit’, and another shimmer from those eyes, animalistic and narrow.

“Logan?” A gravelly voice asked, “Is that you?”

Logan blinked, staring at the dark silhouette that had come to stand before him. Animalistic, perhaps, but very very tall, and very very person-shaped.

“Virgil?”

A lamp clicked on, washing the room in low and orange light, revealing that the creature was indeed Virgil. He looked considerably more human, now that he could be seen past his imposing outline- and he also looked more tired.

Somehow, despite all of the other oddities in their situation, Logan found himself preoccupied by the smallest detail.

“Your eyes, Dear,” he drew forward for a closer look, “How haven’t I noticed? They’re reflective!”

Virgil shrugged impassively, leaning down to let Logan hold his head and examine the unusual feature.

“You can’t really tell unless it’s very dark out, or if you know what you’re looking for. I guess it just never came up.”

“But you can see in the dark, then?” Logan asked, perfectly aware that he sounded more than a little awed. Virgil just snorted, looking endeared.

“Yup,” he popped the ‘p’, “Is it that big of a surprise?”

Logan turned the question over in his mind, but after a moment he shook his head, no. Virgil already had a multitude of unique attributes- his fangs, his claws, and a few more distinct things that only appeared when he got particularly stressed. (All of the sides had traits like those, actually. Of them, Logan was certainly the most average- the only discrepancy had to be his slightly exaggerated proportions, and even that couldn’t compare to some of the others’.)

Virgil hummed vacantly, shifting his weight a few times over. He kneaded his shoulder, glancing down at Logan with sudden interest.

“So, what’s up with you? It’s like, three in the morning.”

Logan stiffened, but tried to disguise the worry.

“I could ask you the same question,” he deflected, ineffectively. Virgil only smirked in response.

“I mean, I guess you could: paranoia, pent up energy, general inability to focus- you know, the stuff that keeps me up every night. You, though,” Virgil hovered over him, making him tilt his head back to keep eye-contact with their height difference. Logan felt his face flush, though it was only partially due to embarrassment. “You don’t stay up late, L, like ever.”

“I’ve just been thinking a lot,” he once more evaded.

“You’re always thinking,” Virgil responded with a laugh, but he stood up straighter and gave Logan his space. Logan glanced up, confused, only to get a shrug by way of reply. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, babe. I’m not gonna, like, interrogate you. I just… wanna make sure you’re okay, is all.”

“Oh,” he smiled, “Yes, I am. Thank you.”

Virgil gestured to the couch, returning the smile.

“Wanna stay up with me? Might help you get your mind off whatever it’s on.”

Logan relaxed at that, nodding a bit sleepily as he followed his partner to the sofa.

Virgil’s arm was twined around Logan’s waist, holding him into the taller trait’s side as they sat comfortably on the couch. In the near pitch dark, Virgil’s laptop was propped up against the coffee table, the screen lit up by slightly unnerving YouTube animations.

Truth be told, though, Logan had paid attention to exactly none of them. He had a few reasons for this: one, he was very sleepy. Two, Virgil was warm- much warmer than himself, as Logan had always had strangely cold skin, and the heat was calming. And three, he was still caught up in his own thoughts, albeit less frantic and frightened versions of them by this point.

He knew that Virgil could easily sense his anxiety, but still, Anxiety did not pry. Add that to the many-paged list of reasons why Logan appreciated him as much as he did.

Appreciate him he did, yes, and he also- he trusted him. Completely. To such a degree that, in the serene partial-silence between the couple, Logan found himself wondering what would happen if he just… told Virgil? If he explained what was on his mind, would it really upset him as much as he feared? The idea of fusing, well, just talking about it couldn’t be too much of a disaster. They were too strong, too stable for that.

“Virge?” Logan didn’t turn to look at him as he spoke. The name was really just a murmur on his lips, uttered noncommittally and with the hope that it might just go unheard.

With a soft click, the video paused, and Virgil shifted.

“Yeah?”

Oh. He was really doing this.

“Could I ask you about something?” Logan would’ve left it at that, but feeling Virgil tense up beside him, he hurried to elaborate: “It’s nothing bad, my love, I just- it’s what’s been worrying me, this evening.”

“Uh- ask away, I guess..”

Logan took a deep breath, feeling his heart rate increase concerningly. He was thankful for the lack of light in the room; if the embarrassed heat spreading across his face was any indication, he likely looked just as nervous as he felt.

He exhaled, trying to focus on Virgil’s arm around him instead of the worries. Everything would be alright.

“You remember when Patton and Roman fused, I trust?”

There was an almost subtle intake of breath from Virgil.

“Yeah, I wasn’t about to forget something like that, L.”

“Right, of course,” Logan found Virgil’s hand and wound their fingers together, fiddling with them. “I just wanted to know your thoughts on the situation.”

There was a beat.

“Um. I’m just relieved that they could get back to normal, I guess. I was sorta worried they’d get stuck- which doesn’t make a lot of sense in hindsight, but with how clingy they both are, I mean…”

Logan hummed, encouraging him to go on, despite the intelligent side’s swiftly fading hope.

“But, like, now that I know they’re okay, I guess it’s not really any of my business?” Hesitation laced Virgil’s voice, as though he wasn’t sure what he was meant to say. “Other than that, though, I just think it’s kind of weird. Like, the whole idea of it. Fusion.”

“‘Weird’ in a negative sense?”

“I don’t know, man,” Virgil huffed, “I mean, I’m not a big fan of cartoons but- it’s weird like it’s interesting, weird like I wanna know more. If that makes any sense.”

Oh. That was promising.

“It does make sense,” Logan whispered, desperately emphatic. The glow of Virgil’s eyes turned to him, wide enough that they looked like little full moons.

“Did you-” he stopped short. Inhaled sharply. Then asked it all in a rush: “Are you asking because you wanted to try it? With me?”

Logan stayed silent, gripping too-tight to his boyfriend’s hand. He sounded… surprised? But maybe not upset?

Oh, who was he kidding, he’d never been able to read tones, really, and it was too dark to try and figure out Virgil’s body language. He’d just have to go blind on this one.

“Yes,” Logan blurted, immediately holding his breath for a response.

Virgil was as stiff as a board. His hand was frozen in place, his gaze boring into Logan.

“Are you sure?”

His tone was soft, sweet, and so so careful. Logic blinked. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Virgil, but he knew that it wasn’t something so… gentle.

“I- maybe? It’s not necessary, if you don’t think you’d be comfortable with-”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Virgil interjected, “I wanna know if you’re sure that you want this, not how you think I feel.”

Logan mumbled an apology, feeling oddly chastised. He collected his thoughts and tried again.

“Yes, I’m sure. I- I trust you, Virgil.”

Virgil relaxed considerably, his head dropping to rest in Logan’s hair.

“Okay. Good.”

And with that, he went quiet again. The show was not unpaused, though. Logan wondered if he was meant to say something, and if so he wondered what it was. But in the end he couldn’t make any sound at all.

Virgil’s hand slipped out of his, instead moving to the back of his neck. Logan instinctively leaned forward with its direction, letting himself be held close. In turn, he wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist, turning sideways into him. He was close enough now to hear the beat of the anxious side’s heart, which was always rather quicker than anyone else's. This time, though, it was like a hummingbird’s, hammering loud and excited.

Logan tilted his head (as much as he could) in confusion. Had the conversation somehow affected Virgil more than it first seemed? Was something about the situation that spiked his anxiety? But that didn’t add up, either, because his breathing was completely even, and he wouldn’t let anyone be this close to him if he really was panicking.

Before Logan could ask what- if anything- was wrong, Virgil nestled his face in his hair, holding him impossibly tighter. And at that point, they were pressed flush together head-to-toe. And that was what made it click.

Oh, they were doing this now. This- this was Virgil’s way of attempting-

Logan hooked his ankle around Virgil’s, clumsily attempting to reciprocate the- erm, the Thing That They Were Trying. Heat rose in his cheeks at even the thought of it.

What was he supposed to do? Was there some way to activate it? Was it enough to simply touch, or was movement required to fuse? What if they couldn’t get it to work at all? That would make plenty of sense, Logan was logic and what was the possibility that he’d follow the same rules as, say, Roman-

“Hey.”

Logan glanced up, his neck straining at the angle. Virgil was gazing down at him, pupils expanded with fondness, his fingers easing through the hairs at the back of Logan’s neck.

“Calm down, okay?”

Logan might have commented on the irony of that, but Virgil was leaning forward and pressing their lips together oh-so gently, and all his thoughts flew out of the proverbial window as he kissed back.

It was soft, light, maybe a little clumsy. The touch was barely-there, really, just ghosting. And then it wasn’t there, at all. The feeling faded, as did so many others, but neither of them were moving apart- or at least, they didn’t think that they were. If anything, they seemed to be getting closer, and closer, but-

Closer to what, exactly?

They opened their eyes. Wait, no, they blinked a couple of times- ah, there, they opened all- five?- of their eyes. Not only was it no longer pitch black, but it seemed that lights had been conjured above them, dozens of tiny purple and blue tea lights that cast the living room in a pleasant glow.

Had- had they caused that? Somehow?

Conjuring on accident- how did they manage that? And what else could they do? What couldn’t they do, though, in this new form? Something like them was bound to have limitations.

They stood up sharply, and immediately cracked their head against the ceiling. They yelped in pain, silently amending that standing up straight while indoors was the first limitation to note. They hunched over, managing to keep upright if they just bent their knees and tilted their neck. And that brought on a much more important investigation into themself: their new physical form.

They were obviously very tall, but also sort of- long in general? Their limbs, their fingers, their face, every feature was very narrow, almost spider-like. And, on the topic of spider-like limbs, they had two sets of arms; one in the usual place, but another placed behind that, curving around from just under their shoulder blades. In addition, their fingers, lithe and spindly, were six on each hand. Despite the unordinary length to many of their appendages, though, they were still noticeably muscular. Wide shoulders, a defined abdomen, and sturdy legs.

With a sharp wave of their hand, they conjured a full-body mirror to hang in front of them, promptly leaning over to examine themself.

Their face was made of edges; sharp cheekbones, pointed ears, and blocky glasses that covered all of their eyes but the middle one. They ran their fingers through their shaggy, curled up hair- a good deal of which fluffed forwards past their forehead and into their face. It was mixed colors, swirls of purple and blue blending together in soft, bouncy locks.

They had interesting features aplenty, but one thing stood out dramatically. One thing that drew their attention at once.

The mouth.

Their lips were dark- almost black, with hints of color toned under it. They dragged a finger along it, but it didn’t wipe away like makeup. They opened their mouth, revealing long needles of teeth, dozens and dozens of them top and bottom- all except for the upper canines. Those were thick, overly large, and tinted with purple. They ended in dangerous looking points, shoving out past the new side’s lips even when they closed their mouth, appearing much like an arachnid's venomous mandibles.

They took a step back from the mirror, experimentally poking their big fangs. To their surprise, the teeth moved; just a wiggle, but enough to show that they were mobile, that they could be flexed and retracted. Well, that was...

That was sick as hell.

Now, to investigate their outfit: they were a little monstrous, sure, but also very smartly dressed. They wore a navy blue plaid waistcoat, laid overtop of a pastel purple sweater, which in turn was beneath a plain, black, short-sleeved button-up shirt. Their tie was a simple white with subdued flecks of violet and sapphire, dotted to look intentionally asymmetrical.

Their lower half also bore a layered aesthetic: sheer lavender leggings beneath strategically ripped black jeans. They also wore a short, tight skirt over it, the color and pattern matching that of their waistcoat. A few chains dangled from the belt loops on their hips, clinking a little as they moved. They had sleek black shoes with small platforms, something vaguely Demonia-style. Altogether, the look was a strange blend of elegant and alternative. Strange, but very, very, very… becoming, to say the least.

They couldn’t help staring at themself. Actually, ogling might be the more accurate word. They were hot, was that vain to say? If it was, they didn’t particularly care, because it was true. Of all the things they could have been together, confident wasn’t expected, but it was more than welcome. Because- damn.

Five minutes of gawking at their own reflection wound up being enough, in the end, and they forced themself to wave the mirror back out of existence. There were so many more things to consider about themself, after all, and that just couldn’t wait any longer. There were infinite things to know, God, they were a new creature entirely.

It was… it was overwhelming. They had so many questions. They had so many concerns, millions of them, and millions of thoughts that didn’t fit into either of the aforementioned categories, thoughts that existed just to fill up space in a head that suddenly felt overpacked. Too many minds in such a reduced space.

It’s okay, they thought, sucking in a deep, slow breath, One at a time, Dear.

There’s too much. I can’t see it all. I can’t explain all of it.

Which half of them was that? Was it… both? Both of them, comforting and receiving comfort? What an impossible creation they’d become! Wait, no, they had to focus on calming down before they gave that any thought.

We can’t get to all of it, they agreed with themself, Some of it, though, certainly.

Like what?

They thought for a moment.

We could start with a name?

Oh. That’s probably important.

Yes, just a bit.

They let their breath out in a laugh, pulling their sleeves past their hands and curling their fingers in the fabric. It took only a second of contemplation before, quite promptly, they knew what they were going to be called from now on. They knew their name, and everything else began to click into place from there.

Livril.

They sighed, contented, and sat back into the corner of the sectional. They didn’t exactly fit, curling up on the couch as they had before, but they were easily flexible enough to find a way. Now that they knew their name, they could really start learning who exactly Livril was.

There was so much they could learn from this, so many things they could enjoy this way. What music did they like? (Probably sad. Most certainly folk punk.) How did they speak? (sharply, they would guess.) How did they move? (Quick, startling, definitely fidgety.)

And that was hardly all, though it was a good start. There was so much more to get to, and they intended to answer all of it as soon as possible.

...But that ‘as soon as possible’ would probably be in the morning, because Livril fell asleep exactly two minutes after their head hit the couch cushion.

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

#sanders sides #ts #analogical #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #fusion au #sanders sides fusion au #logan #virgil #WijjFusionAU #look i havent watched steven universe in like a year but dammit if fusion isnt cool as hell #anyway livril could make fun of me and id thank them

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toko-ton · 4 years

Text

Notes about the Kizuna novel

I’m (slowly) working my way through the novelization of Kizuna right now, and I thought I’d share some of the stuff that caught my attention. This isn’t meant to be a detailed summary of what happens, mostly just notes about the characters and miscellaneous things.

Here’s what stood out to me in ch.1:

- Koushirou made some experimental AR goggles that are supposed to calculate where an enemy will most likely move next and show the wearer a visual guide. Taichi unwisely decides to try them out during the Parrotmon fight, and they end up being oversensitive and blinding him with too many images at once.

- Koushirou can open gates remotely.

- Yamato makes a dramatic entrance on his motorcycle in the middle of the fight, and the first thing he does is call Taichi an idiot, of course.

- As Taichi leaves after the battle, Hikari yells after him that their mom wants him to at least come by and visit every once in a while. (He’s clearly busy, but he didn’t sound that busy to me, maybe he just isn’t prioritizing visiting his family?)

- Back at school, a couple of Taichi's friends (Morikawa and Nemoto) mock him for not knowing what he's going to write his thesis on. He gives a weak excuse: "It's not that I can't decide, I just haven't gotten around to it yet."

- Meanwhile, a friend of Yamato's (Abe) annoys him by asking about a false rumor going around that the JSDF is going to recruit him straight into an important position because he's so famous as a Chosen. (Menoa also refers to the group as "heroes who saved the world again and again" later in the chapter, so I guess they're famous worldwide now?)

- Yamato seems to be dealing with a lot of conflicting feelings. On the one hand, he feels like he's being left behind because he still doesn't know what he wants to do while Abe is ready to graduate and even has a job lined up, but then he notices a little kid in a music shop playing a harmonica and starts feeling melancholy.

- Taichi has a part-time job in a pachinko place, and he’s been living alone in an apartment ever since starting college.

- He’s got his original goggles. (I guess Daisuke gave them back?)

- Taichi and Yamato meet up at a restaurant and talk about not knowing what they want to do. Yamato suggests that they may just be worrying too much because most of their friends already have careers in mind or are working.

- Taichi is aware of what Jou, Mimi, Koushirou, Hikari, and Daisuke are doing or planning to do, but not Takeru or Sora.

- Yamato says Takeru is writing a novel, but he won't let him read it yet.

- Yamato notes that sometimes friends lose touch as they move on with life. Taichi sighs and says "I guess the only ones who never change are Agumon and the other Digimon" and they joke about bringing their Digimon to school with them.

- The woman who collapses in the restaurant is named Ayaka.

- Koushirou, Taichi, Yamato, and Takeru are the ones who are present for both the Parrotmon fight (along with Hikari) and the meeting with Menoa.

- Menoa tried emailing Miyako (and nobody else, apparently?) first for some reason, and Miyako alerted Koushirou.

- In a video, Miyako lets slip that she really contacted Koushirou so it'd be his problem to deal with instead of hers. (changed this one a bit since I realized I misread something, oops)

- Miyako and Hawkmon are both really terrible at shooting video, the text keeps mentioning how shaky it is.

- Menoa has a bubbly, enthusiastic personality and speaks fluent Japanese, but she has one of those weird anime foreigner accents where she randomly uses English words for no reason.

- Imura is exactly how you'd expect, brusque and reserved.

- Roughly 300 Chosen have already ended up unconscious.

- When Menoa is talking about the mysterious affliction, Takeru and Patamon are especially upset to hear that the victims' Digimon are all missing

- Menoa claims that she named the Digimon responsible "Eosmon" because it was early morning when she confirmed that it’s real. (I'm assuming this is going to turn out to be a lie, and the name will be significant somehow?)

#digimon #spoilers #kizuna novelization #last evolution kizuna

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justmysicklypride · 4 years

Note

“All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

Des!!! This was actually pretty fun to write lmao I hope you like it

(Pairing: Shizaya)

Coffee Shop Soundtrack

“No matter how many times you keep asking, I’m still going to say no,” and Shizuo wondered whether the latter’s seemingly non-existent shame from being rejected countless times was an inherited trait, or some sort of acquired one.

Unfortunately for him, Izaya Orihara merely stood with a smile behind the counter and picked up a large takeaway cup as though this was the reaction he’d been expecting all along. Shizuo supposed that maybe it was, seeing as he’d been rejecting any and all advancements Izaya has made towards him in the past almost three months that he’s worked there. They stood there glaring for at least another ten seconds.

Eventually, Izaya’s eyes lowered just long enough for him to pick up a marker and began writing Shizuo’s name on it. Shizuo felt his eye twitch as petite hands guided the pen across the matte surface with a type of precision and grace that reminded him of the time Shinra had demonstrated the scalpel-wielding skills he learnt in practicals on a piece of animal tissue. Only instead of leaving a trail of red and blood behind, the only thing that stained it was the ink - sharp, square turns and a final inflection to finish off the beginnings of Shizuo’s first name, only to give way to small characters and taunting curves that only someone like Izaya would have the guts to do. Especially to someone like a not-yet-caffeinated Shizuo at eight in the morning.

“Keep your eyes at my face, not my hands, Shizu-chan. Don’t want you getting any ideas after all,” Izaya said without skipping a beat, and Shizuo startled.

His eyes immediately drew away to avoid anything other than Izaya’s hands, of all things, and even more so avoided what exactly Izaya had been trying to imply when he’d said what he did. His face felt warm and he half heartedly readjusted the laptop bag on his shoulders, just to have something to do. It was too early for him to even pretend to be nonchalant.

Looking up with a punchable, yet innocent expression, Izaya said, with an overly polite voice, “450 yen, thank you!”

It was the same price each time, and yet Shizuo always felt that Izaya somehow managed to charge him more than what it was worth just to see if he would notice. He wondered if there was any point in pointing it out. If worse comes to worse and he finds himself one day unable to pay his university fees, he could always just come here to beat Izaya up just to make him feel better. Yeah, maybe he should say something… One of these days.

“I really do hate you,” Shizuo sighed instead, reaching into his pocket to get his wallet and avoiding eye contact with both Izaya’s stupidly pretty customer service smile, as well as the mocking coffee cup that sported an unnecessary “-chan” at the end of his name.

Izaya gave him his change back, with an overdramatic bow no less, and began operating the coffee machine next to him.

“So about what I was saying earlier-” Izaya started, replacing his customer service voice with his usual taunting tone, and Shizuo knew Izaya wouldn’t let it go that easily.

“Shut up,” Shizuo said, angry, tired, and framed in the shape of a threat. Not that it deterred him in the slightest.

“You should come over to my place some time,” Izaya said, as if Shizuo didn’t say anything at all. Then, “Or at the very least, let me give you my phone number.”

“How many times did you need me to say ‘no’ before you get it through your stupid head?” Shizuo couldn’t help but snap - better his words than snapping a chunk out of the counter (again) he supposed. “Besides, it’s not like you can’t find anyone else to sleep with! You see, like, a hundred different people every other day here, and you’re-” Shizuo hesitated, and Izaya’s grin widened with each word, “you’re not… unattractive or anything.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said. He looked as if he was considering something. “You know, I can tell that you like me too. Or, at least, enough to want to at least go out for lunch with me one day, so tell me-” Izaya flipped open the cap to a carton of milk, and began pouring it into a small metallic jug, “What is it about you that’s stopping this from happening?”

He pushed the thermometer towards himself so that he could start heating up the milk, letting the machine whirl it into what Shizuo knew to be a soapy-looking froth. It didn’t actually taste like soap, (to be honest, it wasn’t like Shizuo would put it past Izaya to pull a prank like that one day) and more like some pillowy cloud that someone threw into a cotton-candy machine, but Shizuo’s always had a hard time associating Izaya with anything other than a bitter taste in his mouth. Like a dark chocolate, probably, the kind that Shizuo hates, but it would be a lie if he didn’t admit that he’s thought about what it would taste like if he tasted it directly from Izaya’s mouth.

Shizuo internally filed the thought away. He could sort through those unwanted thoughts later when the handsomely annoying barista gives him his stupid coffee. When he’s locked up in a lab and needs a distraction from his rage-inducing thesis that won’t write itself no matter how many furniture and lab equipment he throws at it; his coffee cup with the stupid nickname written on it long crumpled up and discarded in the bin on the lobby floor because he’s not allowed to bring it into the room with him. He’ll think about Izaya then, like he does most days of the week (even when he doesn’t go to the cafe), and then he’ll shake his head and force himself back to reality because at this stage, he just doesn’t have time for a relationship.

“Nothing,” Shizuo said instead, because it’s really none of Izaya’s business. “I should be asking you that. Why do you keep annoying me about it? For all you know, all I do is drink coffee and say bad words. What if I turned out to be some crazy stalker that’s manipulating you into loving me or something?” Izaya scoffed at that and Shizuo continued, “What if I’m already taken?”

Izaya really laughed at that. A sound that grated Shizuo’s ears like a knife to a chalkboard. Yet, he wondered what it would sound like without the extra falsified edge to it.

“Well, let’s just say you’re interesting,” Izaya said, amusement still in his voice as he poured the completed milk foam into the cup. “And for the record, if you really were taken, then I would gladly back off, but the fact that you told me ‘no’ and not ‘I’m taken’ kind of solidified the fact that you’re not, and that you’re just being stubborn, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo gave him a hard glare even as Izaya finally put the lid on and held the finished coffee towards him in a daring manner.

“You know, this still doesn’t change my answer,” Shizuo said, reaching out to take it and finally be on his way.

In hindsight, he really should’ve expected it, because the moment his hand grasped the cup, just above Izaya’s, the latter reached out with his other hand to grab at Shizuo’s collar to pull him towards him and into a kiss.

It happened really fast, and despite being caught off guard, Shizuo managed to learn three things: One, Izaya didn’t taste as bitter as he thought he’d taste. Though to be fair, it wasn’t like the taste of Izaya could possibly surpass the utter shock he’d felt when it happened; Two, that Izaya was a horribly inexperienced kisser, which Shizuo didn’t expect given how ‘smooth’ he’d been portraying himself as all this time. Really, it was more of just their lips touching for anything less than half a minute than a genuine kiss meant to swoon him into saying yes, and; Three, that Shizuo was going to have a really, really hard time trying to focus on his lab work today.

Absentmindedly, he felt Izaya let go of his shirt, and somehow Shizuo found that he was still holding his coffee (though the sides of the cup did begin to cave into itself) when Izaya fully pulled away. Shizuo did feel some parts of his face warm up slightly but it was nothing compared to how shy and flustered Izaya looked all of a sudden, and it was admittedly cute watching him still try to keep up this image of some self-assured cool guy that definitely knows what he’s doing.

“Well, you better get to class, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, a touch softer than his usual mocking tone. “And call me, would you?”

Shizuo nodded dumbly, not really processing the words until he’d walked out of the coffee shop and was halfway through to campus that the words finally clicked and he looked down at the cup in his hands.

‘Shizu-chan ’

#thing I wrote #desss

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sterling-starlight · 4 years

Text

No Texting During Drama Club

Me: Alright! Week two of Vesuvian pride is all about the modern day AUs, I can do this!

*Eight pages later*

What happened? (Pen pals/online friends meeting in person for the first time. Not quite as adherent to the prompt, but I think it works well enough)

Unknown Sender

3:30 PM.

“-heard u have a&p with prof valdemar. If you let me copy ur notes, I will owe u pizza for the rest of our lives.

-this is Julian, btw. from the theater club.

-in case u thought this was some, u know, random creep.”

You

3:35 PM

“-Fine. But only because no one deserves to be failed by Valdemar.

-I’ll drop them off at the dressing room tomorrow. I like pineapple and olive pizza.”

Unknown Sender

3:37 PM

“-pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, u monster!

-sigh. but I'll let it slide since you’re saving my ass.”

You

3:41 PM

“-Did you really just type out ‘sigh’?”

Unknown Sender

3:43 PM

“-….

-Yes.”

----------------

You

6:30 PM

“-So, hey. Congrats on getting to play Hamlet.”

Julian

6:34 PM

“-not the most original production we’ve done, but a role’s a role. seeing Lucio’s face when he realized he wasn’t the star was worth it.”

You

6:40 PM

“-Remind me who that is.

I’m seriously drawing a blank here.”

Julian

6:43 PM

“-blonde. rich. Insufferable. loud.

-he has that fancy prosthetic arm that somehow makes him better than everyone.”

You

6:50 PM

“-Oooooooooh. Him.

-He doesn’t really come to bother us production people unless he wants to bitch about costuming or the sets. Which is a lot.”

Julian

6:55 PM

“-i think I've heard you chew him out a few times. Ur the girl with the venterran accent, right?”

You

7:01 PM

“-Aye.

-Surprised you could even understand me. Not a lot of people can when I get PO’d.”

Julian

7:10 PM

“-i understood enough to know you called him a prick.

-my mom and dad took me to venterre once. it was almost as pretty as you.”

You

7:20

“-Wow.

-That was horrible and you should feel horrible.”

Julian

7:12

“-I have no shame, and never will, my dear.”

-------------------------------------

Julian

3:00 AM

“-natalia

“-hey, natalia.”

“-tali”

Julian 3:05 AM

“-how did people in the middle ages first think to start using leeches?

“-like, did they stick leeches on themselves and realize that pain and blood loss and disease was the medicine?”

You

3:06 AM

“Jules, it is 3 in the goddamn morning. Go to bed.”

Julian

3:07 AM

“I work the graveyard shift at supermarket. it’s my lunchtime.”

You

3:08 AM

“-Then fuckin eat your lunch and let normal people sleep before I cram it up your ass.”

Julian

3:10 AM

“- I can think of much more fun things we can do.”

You

3:15 AM

“-Fuck you, I’m going back to sleep.”

-----------------------

Jules

2:30 PM

“-So you really had a pet ram as a kid?”

You

2:31 PM

“-Technically, I still do. I just couldn’t bring him with me.

“-my flat allows large dogs, but won’t allow rams? It’s bullshit.”

Jules

2:32 PM

“-rams aren’t really normal pets tho.”

You

2:33 PM

“-Says the guy who has a pet crow.”

Jules

2:34 PM

“-malak is a raven, number 1.

-number 2, he is an absolute delight. how dare you say otherwise?

You

2:40

“-Rufus is better.

“-Behold the glory”

Jules

2:50 PM

“-oh, so it’s a pet off then? Fine! May the cutest animal win!”

You

3:00 PM

“-Fine!”

Jules

3:05 PM

“-Have at you!”

-------------------------------------

When Natalia’s phone rang, she was actually shocked to see Julian’s caller id flash on the screen. They had never actually... talked on the phone before.

The worst-case scenarios instantly popped into her head. Was he hurt? Did something happen? What if this was the hospital calling her to say he was in critical condition. Why would he put her as an emergency medical contact without telling her?!

Her phone buzzed again, more insistently, and she pressed the answer button with a trembling finger.

“Hello?”

“Oh, hi~” The feminine voice from the other line was definitely not Julian, not even at his most dramatic falsetto. And she sounded too chipper to be the bearer of doom and death. Natalia let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. “This is... Tali? Right?”

“It’s Natalia, actually. Who is this?”

“My name is Portia! I’m Ilya’s- oh, sorry. One sec,” Portia put a hand over the speaker, muffling the commotion on her side of the line. There was thumping, shuffling, and her shouting “You have her listed as ‘My Dearest Tali’, Ilya! Come on!”

A voice that sounded somewhat like Julian’s shouted back something, but Natalia couldn’t hear it clearly. There was a sound like static or rushing wind, before a door slammed and Portia let out a triumphant laugh. Portia’s voice fully came back on the line. “Sorry. But, yeah. I’m Ilya’s little sister. I would have liked to meet you in person, but my brother is completely hopeless.” Someone thumped against the door, and Portia lowered the phone again. “You know I’m right!” She yelled at the door.

Back to normal. “Aaaanyway. He’s been lamenting, and sighing, and wallowing over whether or not he should ask you out. So! You wanna go on a date with him?”

Natalia opened and closed her mouth a few times, wordless sounds escaping. She was sure her face was burning pink. She could feel the heat spreading from her cheeks to her neck. “Take your time. I can be in here all day.” Portia said casually. Natalia could almost picture her reclining back casually on whatever it was she was sitting on.

“Ah- Ah,” Natalia finally managed to choke out. She took in a deep breath, and let it out in a slow whistle. “...if he really wants tae.” She finally said.

“Oh, he does. Trust me, I know him better than anyone.” Natalia could hear Portia’s smile through the phone. Distantly, a lock clicked and a door swung open. “She said yes, Ilyushka. You can thank me later.”

“That wasn’t- you’re missing the-!” Julian stammered. He took a breath and lifted the phone to his ear. “Listen, whatever Pasha said, you can just forget it. Really. It’s nothing.”

For a moment, Natalia found herself stunned by the sound of his voice. It wasn’t anything new to her. She had heard it from behind thick velvet curtains and up on catwalks. She had heard him bellow for lost love mournfully, monologue passionately, and condemn his enemies. But those were all characters. Hamlet, and Romeo, and Othello. None of them had been Julian Devorak. Not really.

“Natalia?” His voice broke her out of her stupor, and sent a shiver down her spine. The way his tongue curled around the syllables of her name, like he had never spoken anything more sacred, sent her heart aflame in the best possible way.

“Julian.” She spoke his name barely above whisper. Natalia leaned against her desk for support, head spinning. When had- how did- why didn’t he- she- they-? She took in a breath through her nose, just as Julian heaved a resigned sigh.

“Good night, Tali.”

“No, wait, Julian! Don’t-!” The dial tone droning in her ear was all she got. And when she tried calling him, all she got was his voice mail.

Try again. Voice mail.

You

8:00 PM

“-Julian, you asshole! Pick up your phone!”

*Last Read by Jules at 8:05 PM.

--------------

Natalia Valeth was not a quitter.

She hadn’t given up when she left her home country to become a pharmacist. She hadn’t lost hope when she didn’t make the cut to be on the acting team. She didn’t back down even as Professor Valdemar verbally tore the first draft of her thesis to shreds. So, when she drove to the community theater the very next weekend, she was a woman on a mission.

She was hours early for once, but not so early that the doors to the theater weren’t already unlocked. The only person who would wake up at the ass crack of dawn for theater was Julian, and that was exactly what Natalia was betting on. She threw open the auditorium doors with a resounding bang that echoed resoundingly all throughout the room. Sitting on the edge of the stage was Julian, who looked up at her when she made her entrance. The script he had been looking over listlessly fell from his grip, scattering like leaves in the wind. In such a quiet room, Natalia could hear him curse as if she were right at his side. She steeled herself and marched down the steps of the auditorium, stopping less than an arm’s length away from were Julian sat on his haunches collecting the papers.

“We need tae talk. Face tae face this time.”

“Do we?” Julian finally collected the script and rose to his full height. Despite having a good foot on Natalia, he had never looked smaller gunmetal gray eyes looking everywhere but at her. He turned his back on her to tap the pages crisply against the stage.

“You bet yer ass we dae! Whit th’ hell urr ye thinking’s? Whit, did ye think ignoring this wid mak’ it go away?”

“...Maybe a little.”

“Och! Yer impossible!” Natalia threw her hands up with the exclamation. “Did ye think Ah juist said ‘aye’ tae fuck wi’ ye? A’m waantin’ tae gang oan a date wi’ ye! Mibbie even twa! If we feel really crazy, we’ll mak’ it three.”

It might not have been the three magical worlds that would have been most dramatic. If this were a stage production, this would be the part where the lights would dim, and the spotlight would narrow over the two lovers, giving the illusion that they were the only two people in the world. With the theater as empty as it was, they might as well have been.

“Do you... Do you mean that?”

Such vulnerability didn't seem like Julian. Julian could throw out innuendos as easily as breathing. Julian was overly dramatic in everything he did, even when he wasn’t in front of an adoring audience. But it was the Julian who wanted to be a doctor. It was the Julian who looked at all the pandemics of the past, and wondered why so many people had to die. The Julian who was wound up so tightly like he was bracing himself for ejection like it would come as a physical blow.

Sarcasm felt like it would just add fuel to the fire, so Natalia opted for compassion instead. When she brushed her hand against Julian’s cheek, he leaned into it like he needed her touch the same way needed air.

“I’m willin tae huv a go at this.” She said gently, like everything would shatter around them if she was too abrasive. “Ye in?”

“Absolutely.” Julian placed a hand over hers and tilted his head enough to plant a shy, fleeting kiss to her palm.

Maybe this would end in a romance for the ages. Maybe this would end in tragedy. Whatever happened, it was better than not pursing it at all.

#Vesuvian Pride 2020 #vp2020 #julian devorak #natalia valeth #julian x mc #the used alchemy to combine college aus with drama club aus #in which Portia tries to play wingman but Julian is too busy being insecure to appreciate it #the arcana #the arcana game

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kaleidotropepodcast · 4 years

Text

the great inbox dump continues!

chetungwan said:

You followed me the same day I finished the podcast, how did you know

Just the Sidlesmith magic, @chetungwan!

Anonymous said:

so i just listened to the rent rant and i love this podcast and it is taking me over however i might’ve lost it when drew said the movie is bad, it’s one of the few musical movies i even care about.

Look I (Aja) bawled like a baby the first time I saw the movie, just like I do every time I see / hear the show. And fwiw, Drew would be the first person to tell you that no criticism of a piece of media should ever make you feel ashamed of loving it, because if it speaks to you, then that’s all that matters. <333 And Rent itself is all about that idea, too, so embrace it and go moo your heart out. :D

fancygeorgejones said:

Sick Benjamin Britten reference I LOVE YOU

THANK YOU, @fancygeorgejones! one of us may have written our music school thesis on homoerotic themes in benjamin britten operas so we very much appreciate your appreciation.

Anonymous said:

late to the party ig but. love the podcast it’s so cute!! anyway just wanted to say that the song Valentine by Atlas gives me Big Harridrew Vibes and I can’t help but imagine drew singing it to harrison bc it’s like... exactly something his overly romantic gay ass would write

Harrison definitely has this song memorized, and definitely Drew would notice and try to memorize it and then rap it to him adorably for Valentine’s, and then they would have lots of half-hug half-cuddle sweater moments, what, it’s fine, we’re fine

Anonymous said:

I really want to review your show but it has 69 reviews on itunes right now and I desperately do not want to be the one to break that so im at a crossroads because I also want to help it get noticed.....

We’d tell you that you’re in luck because now there are 122 ratings, so you can review away! But in fact reviews apparently don’t make much of a difference in shows getting noticed anyway, so the best thing you can do to spread the word is, well, spread the word! IE tell people that we exist! :) <3333 (And we know so many of you guys do just that and we love you so much for it!!)

Anonymous said:

Is your podcast on Spotify?

I’ve heard good things about it and really want to start it but can’t find it on Spotify :(

We are not on Spotify! we applied but were rejected, probably because we recorded everything in a garage on dial-up at the bottom of the ocean 😭

Anonymous said:

Do you think Harrison would make a good zookeeper?

Harrison would be slightly less awful than Drew, but between them they would turn every single animal encounter into an Event, and no zoo needs that much drama 😂

Anonymous said:

have you ever considered publishing a book surround drew and harrison's story? like the transcripts, or even a novel, cause i would 100% buy 7 copies of it

....well, we’re considering it now!

Anonymous said:

I'm preparing a fanfic about the Sidlesmith founders, and trying to use the story on the website as a base, but combining the dates from that and the date of the contract in the show, the contract is more than two years after Sidlesmith received their trust funds, while in the contract it seems like they're yet to get them. So, to be true to canon, which i know is not a requirement, but i want to be, would I have to work that into the story somehow or should i change the date of the contract?

Oh, no, a continuity error! We wrote the story on the website first, I believe, and the story itself is canonical, but we all know dates are fuzzy like that. The website and the show are both consistent that the contract was signed before they got married and the fake relationship was to end once they got their trust funds a year later. That’s the important thing — the dates are *handwaves* whatever.

Remember, this is a town that’s a thriving sea port surrounded by mountains, that’s located south of the Ozarks (Arkansas) but north of the Mississippi River (Minnesota). Time and temporality are funny things, at a baseline. So feel free to have fun with that! :D

Anonymous said:

I'm writing an enemies to lovers, fake dating sidlesmith fic. is there anything more you can tell me about them? or even the construction of the college?

oh i hope there are two of you!!! 🙏

Harriet was smoking hot and desired by everyone, and Henrik had one hell of an impressive beard. Harriet was hot-headed, but also frustratingly pedantic, while Henrik was stodgy and something of a dullard until he stumbled across a subject about which he was passionate.

They had identical taste in literature, how annoying, and always interpreted everything they read in exactly opposite ways. They each had very advanced ideas about things like sexuality, polyamory, and gender, but expressed them in their very different ways, which means they rarely realized how often they in fact agreed. They absolutely did not get rip-roaring drunk one night after fighting furiously over Melmoth the Wanderer, then raid each other’s wardrobes in order to try on one another’s clothes, and absolutely did not then have the best sex of their lives while still Harriet was still clad in Henrik’s breeches and suspenders and Henrik was still wearing her hoop skirts and corsets, after which they absolutely never ever talked about it again, because there was nothing to talk about.

Or maybe they were both ace and aromantic, and the fact they started a magic school of romance is a giant irony. Who knows!

As for the school, during the spiritualist craze of the late 19th century, a number of students held seances to try to summon the spirits of Sidlesmith, until it’s rumored that Harriet got tired of being summoned and declared she’d curse the next person who called her back from the Beyond because she and Henrik were enjoying very cozy afterlives, thank you very much. Shortly thereafter, a student who was known to be highly interested in witchcraft was seen entering a small copse of trees in the center of campus, right at midnight. The student vanished, and the students who saw her enter the trees were never able to say precisely where she had gone. And they say that today, if you examine the original blueprints of the college, there’s a small area in the middle of campus that’s completely untraceable today — as if the Sidlesmith curse had wiped out both the student and the grove in which she walked.

#sidlesmith #harriet and henrik can get it #Q&A #kaleidotrope podcast #long post

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theisolationdiaries · 4 years

Text

A Call from the Universe

In a society of woven fabric, where lives are sewn together - constantly intermingling and merging in varying degrees and patterns, colours and shapes, I am a lone piece of floating thread that has naturally detached from the makings of its own design, hanging delicately by its fragile corners.

I have been destined to this fate as I have been born into an abstract pattern that appears only in empty spaces - a family of introverts who weave themselves, not by others hands, but in wrappings of their own individual silk cocoons. Because here, we find a home within ourselves.

Almost by the laws bound by nature, we spin a protective layer around us to keep us from external forces. Like silkworms, we turn inwards into this isolated nest for our own metamorphosis, unchanged by others. Because as easy as a gentle breeze that sweeps through a canopy of trees, going about its own way - quietly detached from its surroundings but somehow still part of it all, choosing our own company has always been like second nature. Self-reliance, our dominant trait. Solitude, our dear friend.

This solitary existence, this cautious attitude towards life (which I admit, isn’t the best for social nurturing and self-development) potently runs through our veins as it seems to have been embedded in our very own bloodline, almost like a recessive gene - an integral part in our DNA that makes us who we are. As if we have evolved from lone wolves comfortable in isolation, instead of monkeys, the most social of creatures - a perplexing malady perfect for a comprehensive, investigative scientific case study. Psychologists would definitely be lining up for a chance at such a thesis. (And no, I won't be volunteering as tribute.)

It’s strangely kind of like an ancestral curse bestowed to us by the gods of social fortune and misconduct, for some grave sin ignorantly (maybe even comically - as a joke) committed by one of our foolish ancestors (a jester of sorts) who had undoubtedly displeased them. One we descendants are still paying for, bearing the same shame our forefather did as we have begrudgingly gained a dissociative personality trait from his demise. And it has done its job faithfully so, trickling down from generation to generation - as both paternal and maternal sides are no strangers to this phenomenon. From adults, children, cousins, aunts, uncles, and other relatives alike - there is little exception.

Because of this, we simply thrive in solitary activities. We’ve come to celebrate the freedom it creates from the confines of having to prove oneself in the presence of others - a lone cause where we have continued to stand up for our individuality. An attribute I’m not quite sure is an asset, or a liability. Probably both, as stubbornness also seems to be inherent in this precarious test of survival. (I’m still learning as I go.)

In terms of a social foundation, from tiny, shaky steps at a young age, I grew to lack leaps and bounds when I embarked on the challenging journey into adulthood - the enigmatic governor of unstable ground. My structure haphazardly formed by my unsteady hands, with the usual provocation one experiences in their unbeguiling youth. My juvenile self found that the need to socialize and conform was this blinding pearly-white grin, filtered by a hidden malice that bore fangs of unwarranted prejudice and judgment, so my own remained tight-lipped and sealed, refusing to speak. I did not like the false sense of security strangers bore with their veiled smiles. So I faced these masked entities with disdain, always faced slightly turned away, as if ready to retreat at any moment, in fear of being shackled by their contempt. I don't really know if it was an act of rebellion, or cowardice. I think it's a bit of both - like two stepbrothers vying for the same attention but an unseemingly pair that can’t be separated.

So as vulnerability and discomfort being the dominant forces that have affronted me when having to interact and associate alone, almost naturally, when thrust in a social setting, I subconsciously developed (i’m blaming the recessive gene) a defense mechanism of its antithesis - dissociation.

Isolation became my safe space, my comfort blanket, my tiny little bubble - a haven only I knew, away from the complex constructs of the outside world. An escape from reality. It's not much of a life for others, but to me it was everything.

At this stage still, I am an infant in this process of development, still wobbling at the knees still learning how to walk, bouncing on the soles of my feet in this awkward dance of resolve.. mostly only having an exchange of superficial pleasantries when all I want is connection. And in this present moment, here lies my most inconvenient truth. What was once my faithful companion has turned into a relentless foe. This pandemic has fortified the curse and twisted my fate. My haven of thoughts are now a thunderstorm relentlessly pouring over a dam, spilling through cracks, overflowing in abandon - too much for one person to bear - which at any given moment could burst with just one flash of lightning.

From thriving in time alone, now I am a helpless pawn in its game of chess. A simulated war of psychological strength and fortitude has commenced.. It seems a new set of formidable challengers lay before me - my opponents powerful forces to be reckoned with. And I crave for a sense of shared togetherness, I now long to be woven with other colours and shapes. Because this has now become a cruel solitary test of patience, and wits - with me forcibly meant to play all the roles - king, queen, knight, pawn...all the pieces intended for me to participate as, dutifully and without complaint. There is no battalion of men I can rely on. I am alone, yet again.. In this mental maze I seem to keep hitting corners and dead ends, irrevocably lost, with no direction. But it’s okay, for some journeys you have to go through alone. This road is not unfamiliar after all. Should I forge ahead with the confidence I know I still lack? or resign to my usual pursuits? At this point i’m not so sure I've been making the wisest decisions as "Check" almost seems to be the most dominant result in my daily life, with i the struggling opponent always on the verge of losing - my king, my heart center, constantly cornered.. exposed and vulnerable.

For now, I'm not really banking on any wins worthy of a celebration. Small victories perhaps, yes. There are those, i'll give myself that. Little tiny glimmers of hope that appear in my most difficult of days. But, like the checkered board and its pieces, everything has been painted black & white. No shades have been left in between. My ups & downs are blatant and blunt. My highs & lows, two sides of a coin. And even with fervent control and dedication to even a simple victory, my fateful flips haven’t been so forgiving either.

I feel so alone.

I think this is what happens when you have your back against a wall with no visible signs of escape, and an internal battle is inevitable to ensue. This is the eventuality, a mental and emotional upheaval - a call to arms - when an unknown virus suddenly sweeps the world uninvited, like a vengeful wildfire quickly spreading through a dry and dense forest, completely ravaging everything in its wake. We were unprepared for this. In this extended quarantine, there is nothing I feel more than that of a caged animal - trapped in the desolation of this isolation, wanting to break free. And, the same hearts seem to be experiencing this as well. Walls are being built up and torn down every day. Bridges connected and burned. Long dreary days have bled into threadbare months. The proverbial hands in the clock of Time are moving backwards. "Halt," they say. Pause. Slow down. Listen. The Universe is speaking. "What is there to learn from this pandemic?", it asks. Well, I think, as if by God's design, it has plucked us from our solitary islands and dropped us into an endless ocean, so we can learn how to hold hands, and float. Together. I am still learning though. Because, every single day I find myself and lose myself, over and over again. The hands in the clock of Time glitching, instead of moving backwards.

I am still learning.

And although my current predicament has been terribly isolating, which has resulted in numerous setbacks born from unrelenting fear, it is because I have not learned the most important lesson: that life, indeed, is meant to be played with a team.. a group.. a family. A beautiful intricate fabric where we all belong and no empty spaces are left in between.

Unity will save us all.

We are all each others knights, queens, kings and pawns - a band of brothers and merry men, making up a kingdom of hope and faith. Hand in hand we can face this pandemic, play to win, look at it dead in the eye and turn the tables around. We’ll have the last say, and make the most vital move - a grand finale exulted by the words of victory.. “Checkmate.”

Drowning is simply not an option. We'll all float soon enough. Together.

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lingthusiasm · 5 years

Audio

Lingthusiasm Episode 32: You heard about it but I was there - Evidentiality

Sometimes, you know something for sure. You were there. You witnessed it. And you want to make sure that anyone who hears about it from you knows that you’re a direct source. Other times, you weren’t there, but you still have news. Maybe you found it out from someone else, or you pieced together a couple pieces of indirect evidence. In that case, you don’t want to overcommit yourself. When you pass the information on, you want to qualify it with how you found out, in case it turns out not to be accurate.

In this episode of Lingthusiasm, your hosts Lauren Gawne and Gretchen McCulloch get enthusiastic about how we come to know things, and how different languages let us talk about this. Some languages, like English, give us the option of adding extra adverbs and clauses, like “I’m sure that” or “I was told that” or “maybe” or “apparently”. In other languages, like Syuba, indicating how you’ve come to know something is baked right into the grammar. We also talk about what this means for how kids learn languages and how English might evolve more evidentials.

Read the transcript here

Announcements:

This month’s bonus episode is about talking to animals! Making animals learn human language has not generally worked out as well as people have hoped, but the attempts are still very interesting! Support Lingthusiasm on Patreon to gain access to the animals episode and 26 previous bonus episodes.

Merch update!

Have you ever browsed the "Insert Symbol" menu just for fun? Do you stay up late reading Wikipedia articles about obscure characters? Or do you just…somehow…know a little bit too much about Unicode?

Introducing the new ESOTERIC SYMBOLS scarves!

We've hand-picked and arranged in a pleasing array our favourite symbols from the editing, logic, music, game piece, punctuation, mathematics, currency, shapes, planets, arrows, and Just Plain Looks Cool sections of Unicode!

Including fan favourites like: the interrobang ‽ multiocular o ꙮ the old school b&w snowman, the pilcrow ¶ the one-em, two-em AND three-em dashes And yes, the classic Unicode error diamond with question mark itself �

We're also very excited to announce that all our scarf designs (IPA, trees, and esoteric symbols) are now available on mugs and notebooks, for those who prefer to show off their nerdery in household object rather than apparel form.

By popular demand, we've made LITTLE LONGITUDINAL LANGUAGE ACQUISITION PROJECT onesies and kiddy tshirts available for everyone! Available in Mum's, Dad's, Mom's, and without possessor marking (because it turns out that there are a LOT of kinship terms).

Here are the links mentioned in this episode:

Evidentiality (Wikipedia)

Lamjung Yolmo copulas in use (Lauren’s PhD thesis)

Batman should learn how to speak an evidential language (Lauren on School of Batman podcast)

World Atlas of Linguistic Structures chapters on evidentiality (77, 78)

Internet abbreviations as discourse particles

Evidential acquisition in Turkish and Tibetan

Fantastic Features We Don’t Have in the English Language (Tom Scott video)

Gretchen’s live-tweet of Ann Leckie’s The Raven

You can listen to this episode via Lingthusiasm.com, Soundcloud, RSS, Apple Podcasts/iTunes, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. You can also download an mp3 via the Soundcloud page for offline listening.

To receive an email whenever a new episode drops, sign up for the Lingthusiasm mailing list.

You can help keep Lingthusiasm ad-free, get access to bonus content, and more perks by supporting us on Patreon.

Lingthusiasm is on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and Tumblr. Email us at contact [at] lingthusiasm [dot] com

Gretchen is on Twitter as @GretchenAMcC and blogs at All Things Linguistic.

Lauren is on Twitter as @superlinguo and blogs at Superlinguo.

Lingthusiasm is created by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our senior producer is Claire Gawne, our production editor is Sarah Dopierala, our editorial manager is Emily Gref, and our music is ‘Ancient City’ by The Triangles.

This episode of Lingthusiasm is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share Alike license (CC 4.0 BY-NC-SA).

#episodes #episode 32 #evidentials #evidence #verbs #sentences #morphosyntax #morphology #syntax #syuba #english #hearsay #evidentiality

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thelastspeecher · 5 years

Text

Angiewolf AU - The Morning After

So I know I said last week that I was going to be taking a break from writing so I could focus on my thesis. But I also said that I might randomly post ficlets if I get struck by inspiration for something. And this is one of those times.

This is a long overdue scene, taking place after the events of Weirdmageddon in my Angiewolf AU. As for what all happened during Weirdmageddon in this AU, read to find out. Or go back into my blog and find the posts I made about it last year. Whichever floats your boat.

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Ford looked up from his mug of coffee as Stan walked into the kitchen.

“Your footsteps are incredibly loud,” he informed Stan. Stan froze. He slowly turned his head to stare at Ford. “I could hear you the moment you stepped outside of your bedroom.” It had been one of the many things Ford could hear from his seat at the kitchen table. He wondered if the walls were thing or the high ceilings, built with werewolves’ large stature in mind, amplified noises. No matter the cause, the house hadn’t seemed half as quiet as Ford expected it to be this early in the morning.

“You- Ford- you’re-” Stan stammered, running a hand through his hair.

“I have two questions I would greatly appreciate an answer for,” Ford interjected. Stan blinked. He seemed taken aback. At what, Ford wasn’t sure.

“Uh. Shoot.”

“First, why did I wake up in your guest room, on one of your spare werewolf-sized dog beds? Second, why was I nude?” Ford asked. Stan opened and closed his mouth silently. “I realize you may not know the answers to those questions, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“No, Ford, it’s-” Stan swallowed. “I can answer your questions. But before I do, you need to answer one from me.” Ford waved a hand, indicating he was willing to hear Stan’s question. Stan strode over to the table and sat next to him. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked in a low voice.

“I…” Ford furrowed his brow, thinking furiously. “I think the last thing I remember is that we were both being held hostage by Bill.” Stan nodded. “You were in wolf form, as Weirdmageddon began during a full moon and time was frozen during the entirety of the event. And you were…” A snippet of a memory flashed through Ford’s mind. Animal eyes narrowed, a vicious snarl of teeth as long as his arm, immense pain. Ford swallowed. “Did you attack me?”

“No, I-” Stan chewed on his lip. “It’s complicated, what happened.” He frowned at Ford. “You really don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t,” Ford said defensively. “And frankly, your body odor isn’t helping me to focus.”

“My body odor?”

“Yes! When was the last time you showered?”

“Last night.”

“Before or after you smoked a cigar, drank an entire bottle of whiskey, and worked on your car’s engine?” Ford snapped. Stan leaned back in his chair. He was watching Ford with an expression that took him a moment to recognize.

It’s the same expression he used to have when he did his best to help his children figure something out themselves.

“I didn’t do any of that, Sixer. Especially not the cigar thing. I gave up smoking decades ago when Angie got pregnant.” Stan’s tone matched his face. He was holding back the entirety of what he knew, providing as few crumbs as possible so that Ford could come to a conclusion on his own. “And I sure as hell ain’t gonna pick it up again. I like being able to breathe.”

“But you smell like-”

“Like what?” Stan prompted.

“Cigar smoke, whiskey, and motor oil,” Ford said firmly. Stan raised an eyebrow at him. “What?!”

“C’mon. I know you’ve heard that phrase before.”

“I-” Another memory floated to the surface, from decades ago. Angie explaining how she could tell who entered a room just by their smell. “That’s- I’m smelling your- your scent?” Stan nodded. “The scent that only werewolves can detect?”

“Stanford,” Stan said seriously, “you really want that title of ‘World’s Dumbest Genius’, don’t you?” Ford slumped against the back of his chair. “The dots are starting to connect now.”

“Yes,” Ford croaked. “Yes, they are. You’re not loud or smelly-”

“Okay, that’s not true,” Stan interrupted. “Don’t slander me like that. I’m just not as loud and smelly as you think I am.”

“…because I was turned and now have a werewolf’s heightened senses,” Ford said. Stan nodded again. Ford covered his face with his hands. “How? When?”

“The last thing you remember was right before you asked me to turn you. You had this…completely stupid idea to trick Bill into your mind and then erase your memory so that he’d be gone forever.” Stan scoffed. “Somehow, it fucking worked.”

“That’s right,” Ford said slowly. “Bill realized that you had the information he sought, not me.”

“Yeah, well, being the mate of a pack leader has its benefits.” Stan stretched. “All sortsa magical weird things talk to me and tell me shit. I probably – no, definitely – know more about Gravity Falls’ weirdness than you do now.”

“You turned me so that I could take your place,” Ford said. Stan’s face hardened.

“You literally put your arm in my mouth. I didn’t wanna do it, but I- you insisted.” Stan looked down at the table and rubbed his thumb against a bright red stain. “Now I know why Angie hated turning me so much. It fucking sucks.”

“And then I shifted.” Ford frowned. “I don’t remember anything after the bite. How did you manage to pull off the switch? It was a permanent full moon.”

“Well…” Stan sighed. “Being a werewolf for almost thirty years has its benefits. In some cases, I can force a shift back to human. It doesn’t last long, but that’s what I did. Bill was fooled into thinking you were me, since you were the one that was the wolf, and you know how the rest goes.” Silence fell.

Or at least as silent as things will be now that I have a wolf’s hearing. Ford tried to ignore the faint sounds of someone getting out of bed somewhere in the house. He cracked a weak smile in an attempt to alleviate the somber mood.

“It was a very complicated plan,” he said. Stan let out a half-hearted laugh.

“No shit.”

“Some would say overly complicated.”

“Again. No shit, Poindexter.”

“How the hell did it work?”

“I have no fucking clue,” Stan said, exasperated. He dragged his hands down his face. “But it did. And you were a werewolf who didn’t have any memory. Luckily, since Angie’s the Mother Wolf and I’m her mate, you listened to me when I told you what to do. So we managed to get you back here, set you up in the guest room, and just sorta worked on trying to get you to remember things. You were stuck as a wolf, but since we could still communicate, you were remembering things bit by bit. Yesterday, it seemed like you finally got all your memory back.” Stan rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. “And now you’re back to square one.”

“I don’t have amnesia,” Ford said.

“You don’t fucking remember-”

“I don’t remember the time I was a werewolf,” Ford said, talking over Stan. “I remember everything else.”

“You-” Stan groaned. “Oh, fucking hell. It’s that amnesia that happens when you first shift, isn’t it?” He looked at Ford. “We went through all that trouble to get you to remember shit and it woulda come back once you turned human again.” He slapped the table in frustration. There was a rustle from upstairs, like someone was startled awake by the noise. “God fucking dammit.”

“I’m not quite sure that’s accurate,” Ford said softly. “Angie went into a fugue state when she first shifted. She couldn’t remember who she was and was stuck in wolf form as a result. I think that restoring my memory was crucial to allowing me to return to human form. Once I was human again, the memory loss was no longer a concern.”

“I don’t think I’d say that,” Stan said. “I mean, you can’t remember any of the last like…month.”

“Month?” Ford gaped. “I was a wolf for a month?”

“Give or take a few days, yeah.”

“Holy Moses,” Ford muttered. He rubbed his forehead. “That’s…unfortunate.” Stan snorted.

“Understatement of the year.”

“Heh. I suppose.” Ford furrowed his brow.

“What?”

“Did something happen with Fiddleford while I was a wolf? I think I remember…well, not any specific events. Just that I had very strong emotions regarding him-”

“Pfft, like that’s news.”

“-and maybe his son?” Ford finished, ignoring Stan. Stan’s eyes widened. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I…” Stan grimaced. “You found something out, yeah. It kinda sucks you forgot it, but you’ll figure it out again pretty fast. All you gotta do is track down Fidds and Tate.”

“That will jog my memory?”

“It’ll do somethin’.”

“Could you be more explicit?” Ford asked. Stan shook his head. “Stanley, I’m not in the mood for one of your games-”

“It’s not a game. It’s- well, you’ll know what I mean when you see Tate again.”

“Stanley.”

“I can’t say anything about it, Ford,” Stan said in a tight voice. “I promised I wouldn’t. And honestly, being a werewolf has made me a lot more serious about promises.” Stan shook his head. “Man, wolves don’t fuck around with that shit.”

“…Very well,” Ford said after a moment. He sighed. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

“That’s what you did last time. You can do it again.”

“I’m going to have to.”

“Yep,” Stan said cheerfully. He got up from the table. “Before you head out, though, want some breakfast?” Ford’s stomach rumbled. Stan grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll serve you up the Werewolf Special. It’s all meat.” Ford smiled back.

“That sounds both delicious and appropriate.” The scent of sweet peas and rainwater suddenly filled the room. Ford looked over at the kitchen entryway. “Hello, Angie.” Angie smiled at him.

“Hello, Stanford. I see yer back to yer old self.”

“As much as I can be.”

“I got to admit,” she sighed, “I’ll miss havin’ a big ole wolf kowtowing to me all the time. Not goin’ to lie, it was a good boost fer my self-esteem.”

“What do you mean?” Ford asked. Angie grinned crookedly.

“Hon, you were a wolf ruled by wolf instincts. And all of those instincts told ya to practic’ly walk on eggshells ‘round the head of yer pack.” She pointed at herself. “Me.” Ford chuckled softly. “D’ya think you’ll whip up a cure fer yourself?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure at this point. Having heightened senses might come in handy. But the shedding…”

“Yeah, vacuuming’s a daily chore,” Stan said. Voices carried from upstairs.

“Sounds like you should make up more than just one serving of breakfast,” Ford said. Stan nodded.

“Yep. Ang?”

“On it, darlin’.” Angie joined Stan in digging through the fridge and rifling through the cabinets, pulling out cookware.

“Stan?” Ford said. Stan looked up from a bowl of eggs.

“Yeah?”

“I’m very glad that you didn’t turn me until after we began the process of burying the hatchet. That’s not something I’d like to have forgotten.” Stan grinned.

“Duh. If you were still as pissed at me now as you were before everything went to shit, when you woke up naked in my house you’d probably think…I have no clue what you’d think, actually.”

“Me neither. So it’s just as well that I didn’t.”

“If yer goin’ to yap ‘n distract Stan, ya have to at least help cook,” Angie said, putting a hand on her hip. “We have a lot of werewolves to feed, not to mention Fidds, who’s comin’ over with Tate.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Ford said. Angie shook her head.

“Nope. Get up. Yer helpin’.”

“I’m not-” Ford started. Angie frowned at him. Some part of Ford urged him to do what she said. He stood. “You weren’t joking about how influential the pack leader is.”

“Nah, that part was just me bein’ a mom.” Angie beckoned him over. “C’mon. Help Stan crack some eggs.”

“Are you going to make pancakes?” Ford asked. Angie raised an eyebrow.

“If I am, they’ll be human-exclusive,” she replied.

“That’s something else to put in the downsides of being a werewolf,” Ford mumbled. Angie snickered. “What?”

“I’m very glad my pancakes are in such high demand, that’s all. Now, wash yer hands and get crackin’.”

#this ended up longer than planned but I couldn't find a good place to stop #and Angie wasn't originally in it but she snuck in while I was writing at some point and I let her stay #she's the Mother Wolf I can't say no to her #enjoy the exposition I have MASTERFULLY weaved in here (if I do say so myself)#Angiewolf AU #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #my writing #my stuff #ficlet #speecher speaks

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celestialvinyl · 5 years

Text

like real people do [ brian may ]

concept: Y/N is an Art exhibitor at the fictional London Museum of Art. When a certain tablet (on loan) in the Egyptian Section awakens everyone and everything inside -- Y/N finds themselves in a world they’d never expected. That includes staring at the Guitarist of Queen, who’s come alive, and wondering how exactly you can allow yourself to have feelings for a wax figurine.

word count: 4.6k

warnings: makybe a little swearing, inanimate figures coming to life and contemplating existence and all that jazz?

a/n: alrighty, so -- this is a little different. i guess i took the title a little too literally. as a part of @yourealegendfred ‘s writing challenge, i was inspired by the song “like real people do”, but i don’t know if this is the direction i should have gone in? but i have this thesis i could write about how night at the museum is a true american classic, and why it should me immortalized. but, this will have to do. it’s kind of a lot? i don’t think i explain it all well enough, but there are three movies to do that for you.

also, congrats on 3000 and more, amanda!

Being an Exhibitor in an art museum was possibly one of the weirdest jobs on your resume. When you got your degree, you hadn’t thought you would end up at one of the most mix-matched museums around. The London Museum of Art teetered on the edge of a cliff of prestige, always dangerously close to loosing that title. Thanks to a curator in the early 2000’s and a lot of funding, you were working in a museum with serious artwork and craftsmanship. And then there were the wax figurines.

As that curator had described it, they wanted to pay tribute to some of the best musicians that had impacted British contemporary music. You guessed the funders hadn’t thought that would involve wax figurines of Queen or the Beatles. Or Elton or Bowie.

But a job was a job, and you were happy to accept the offer they proposed when you sent your resume in. A steady job, surrounded by art and history — two things you adored. How could you not?.

Then, there was the offer. The Museum of Natural History in New York came as somewhat of a shock to you when it showed up on your desk. Reading over the brief, you couldn’t believe they wanted to offer up one of their most prized possessions. A pharaoh’s tablet and the pharaoh himself? It took everything in you not to slam the concept down on your curator’s desk. But she found it eventually, and quickly called up the institution to agree to their terms.

That’s how you ended up, months down the road, sneaking into the very museum you worked at.

The exhibit had been open for a little over a week, with soft opening and test audiences abound in the weeks prior. Overall, the “Art of Ancients” exhibit you had poured your blood and sweat into was being met with rave reviews. It felt nice to have something to add to your C/V and to call your own. But something had been missing; you’d never been alone with the exhibit. In all your time working on it, there’d always been someone else in the room to disrupt the concept of being alone with all the hard work you’d done. There was only one option to truly be alone.

You knew you weren’t supposed to be in the museum after hours, but the notion was too exciting. Plus, the lack of security in the museum made slipping in and out easier than it should have been. With a night guard who was asleep half the time, you were already sure you would be fine as you took the familiar path back to the exhibit.

Setting your bag down in front of the glass cases, full of King Ahkmanrah’s most treasured possession, you peered at the tablet that seemed so sacred. The sun’s last beams of light were hitting it. You watched as they slowly faded away and left the dark night instead. A sense of serenity filled you, knowing you were truly allowed to relish in your work. It was a selfish process, but a process nonetheless. It wasn’t often you got to do this amount of work with a team behind you, working hard for something that the public would enjoy.

You figured you’d enjoy it now.

Pulling out a notebook from your bag, you tried to stare at the exhibit and think of the little things that needed tweaking. There were a few plaques that looked as though they weren’t giving enough relevant information. And maybe a few of the pieces should be moved around more?

“What have you got there, sweetie?”

You froze. Shit, how had you been caught so quickly? Turning and expecting the guard, you wondered how he had found you already. You thought that they were slow—

It wasn’t the security guard.

Your eyes widened more than they should have; a scream was building up in your lungs. Which the other person seemed to notice. He quickly placed a hand over your mouth, just in time to reduce the effects that your scream had. But you couldn’t breathe, and before you knew it, you were passing out in Roger Taylor’s arms.

When light finally found you once more, your head throbbed and the cold of the tile below you was making your hairs stick up on ends. Or maybe that was the group of rockstars staring at you from above, hovering like predators. They made you want to scream one more time, and you weren't sure why. Was it the fright and shock? Or what is something more unnerving?

“Oh, she’s as pale as a ghost.” One voice murmured from above. You were still trying to get your bearings about you. Unsure of which voice you could hear, you just groaned.

“I have no clue why,” someone else shot back. You were pretty sure it was from your right this time, instead of your left like the last one. “Guess she doesn’t see a rockstar everyday.”

“Oi, shut up, will you? She’s trying to get herself together.”

“Ghurs?” You didn’t wholly have complete control of your mouth and something slipped out that would have normally elicited a blush from your cheeks. (Being well-spoken was something you tried to pride yourself on.) At the moment, you could see yourself making a fool of yourself. But who in front of, exactly? A security guard, right?

Your eyes blurred less, slightly. Just enough for you to find the bright blue of something shiny on your left and a shirtless (yet vested) figure on your right. And you knew both of those outfits in such detail that as your eyes blurred even less, you thought you just might faint again. Oh, right. This was why you had blacked out in the first place. How could you forget Paul McCartney and Roger Taylor flanking either side of you, staring as though you were some wounded animal? And of course, behind them were other celebrities (some of which seemed as though they hadn’t aged a day since their heyday.

As everything started to make sense once more, you had to look at the others around you and stop yourself before you screamed. Because this made no logical sense.

This had to be a prank, right?

But nobody knew you were coming?

Are these just a bunch of security guards in costume, or a part, or…?

They couldn’t be though. Just looking up at the two closest to you, you knew no one could replace either of their looks. It was odd, the two of them, staring down at you with manners that you would have fawned over in a different lifetime.

“Why don’t you let her breathe?” Another voice interjected, and the two above you turned to find the lanky figure of someone you swore had to be Brian May. He had his arms crossed over his chest and seemed exhausted. From what you weren’t sure, since he wasn’t the seventy-something old man that was just promoting a biopic about Queen. And it definitely wasn’t the actor. “She’s probably in for a shock.”

“Well, if she was trying to break in, she deserves it.” Another voice shot back. When you followed it, you found — wait. That wasn’t Elton, was it?

Brian let out a deep sigh. “No, haven’t you seen her picture around? She’s the exhibitor.”

You let your silence prevail over anything else. Just listening to these people (things?) bicker was enough for the moment. When you peered and found that the two who had flanked you earlier had moved closer to the group, you did relax slightly. But then George Harrison sat himself down right next to you, in his salmon coat and pirate hat, watching the small group quarrel. He turned, and gave you a pointless grin. “Breathe. You look like you might explode.”

His accent was spot on.

None of this made any sense.

“Wait,” you cut in on the conversation happening without you, but somehow being about you. “What is this? A prank? Did Julia tell you I was going to be here tonight?”

“Sorry, love. But who’s Julia?” Roger Taylor looked at you, a slight interest showcased in the tilt of an eyebrow. You shook your head and moved on. Alright, so maybe it wasn’t a prank brought on by that funny roommate of yours.

“Are you actors?”

A young George Michael filled in the answer on that one. “I don’t believe so. Most of us made our living in music. Bowie, didn’t you do some films?” As he turned his attention to the man, the other shrugged.

“So did Ringo.”

Freddie Mercury added, “I tried ballet, but they learned quickly I wasn’t the dancer they were looking for.”

And you swore you were going to break. This wasn’t funny anymore. You had to be going mad.

As twilight turned into an early dawn, there was still some time before the sun officially rose. You found yourself on the roof and watching the lights twinkle. There was so much swirling inside your head, but you couldn’t just abandon the place. The door clicked open behind you, and you turned to find a reserved Brian May leaning against the entry way. “Freds want to know if you’re all good?”

A scoff bubbled out of your mouth; you couldn’t stop it. “Yeah, sure. You find out that everything in the museum you work at comes alive at night, and you’re just supposed to be good.”

You tried to think back to the modge-podge group guiding you to the newest exhibit — the one you had put together — and showing you the tablet. You’d been introduced to the Pharaoh (the one who should have died hundreds of years ago) and his youthful glow didn’t escape you. He wanted to be called Ahk. As though he was cool and youthful. He was the one to explain everything to you — even if none of it seemed to make that much sense. The tablet you had thanked the Lord for was gifted with ancient powers that somehow brought everything to life.

It didn’t make much sense to you then. Brian had moved to try and explain a little further, but you gave the excuse that you needed a little air. (Was it an excuse if you really needed it?) You found yourself walking up and up flights of stairs, eventually granting you access to the roof. And even after all of the walking and time…

It still didn’t make sense.

Nor did it make much sense now, a few hours later, with Brian May standing just a little but away from you.

He actually chose to move himself a little closer, lifting himself from the position he was already in and taking a few steps closer to you and your ledge. Your feet dangled over the edge, and you felt like you were flying for a second. It was relaxing when nothing else was.

“It’s a lot, I know. But is there anything else you can really do?”

“Run for the hills?” You thought aloud. “Ask God what the hell is going on?”

He let out a little laugh. “Oh, no. This isn’t God. It’s something, just not Jesus and all that.” His eyes drifted down to the cigarette in your hand, your own eyes following his. As if silently asking, he lifted his eyes up and gave a pleading sort of look. You don’t know why you were so worried that he would melt from the heat, but he seemed to be alright as you gave the cig away. After a gentle drag and a hiss, he handed it back over. Guess it wasn’t for him. “John agrees.”

“Lennon or Deacon?”

“Lennon.”

A nod sufficed as ‘I should have known that’. Nevertheless, you peered out at the horizon in front of you, the moon beginning it’s descent for the evening. “I can’t believe there are legends downstairs, and I’m up here having a breather.” You flicked the cigerette off the building, watching it slowly fall down the tall building.

Brian jerked his head back towards the door. “You can head down if you want. We’ve still got a few hours before daylight.”

“What happens then?”

“We go back to being wax.” He stated, so innocently and truthful that you felt as though you should have known that already. Of course they do! Otherwise you wouldn’t have exhibits to stake your job on. “We wake up tomorrow night, do this all over again.” After a pause, he added as an afterthought, “As long as the tablet is still working.”

You couldn’t help but point out, “You seem to be taking this all remarkably well.”

“It was quite odd at first.” He admitted. “But Ahk managed to explain it well enough before anyone got hurt. Nobody is stupid enough to go outside. We all choose to keep each other company.”

“Yeah, how is it living with other legends?”

He chuckled, but there wasn’t much humor behind it. If there was, it wasn’t a generous humor. “They’re kind of wankers. McCartney is always fighting with John.”

“That’s kind of expected.” You sighed. “I did a paper on them once, for a music history class in uni.”

“Ever do one on Queen?”

“Nope.” You grinned like a sly cat. You could remember the stupid essay for the class, and how you had to write something on ‘musicians in turmoil and the art that came out of it’. “But one of my friends did on Hot Space. She got a C.”

“Well, that’s the absolute shit.”

“You should talk to her about it; she’s still upset!” You couldn’t help the laughter that came, starting in your stomach and bubbling up until it escaped. Brian couldn’t resist it either, because soon enough he was laughing along with you. You were pretty sure that your hand had slipped onto his shoulder a s a reason for support, the other tucked by your stomach.

As you settled down, you retracted your hand from it’s spot and looked back out to the skyline. The stars were gorgeous.

“Do you think you’ll come back?”

You had to look over to Brian to make sure that he had actually asked that. There was slight aprehension on his face as he waited for your answer.

“I dunno, probably. It’s not like I can just move on with my life now — knowing all of this.”

“I’m sure everyone would be happy if you came back.”

“What about you?” You joked.

“Of course.” He was so sincere, it hurt. You guess you didn’t know how lonely it had to be sometimes, trapped in a building with people you might not know personally. And to not be able to go outside without worry of being caught? That seemed like being damned. But then Brian smiled, so brightly, you thought that the sun was already rising. “I’d be happy to have you here any day.”

“You’re too kind. You live up to the legend.”

He opens his mouth say something, but chose instead to stay quiet. You linger for just a second, hoping he’ll say something instead of remaining sielnt. But he doesn’t. You choose to turn back towards the exit, instead. Your feet hit the concrete of the roof, and it doesn’t take long to head back to the door. Brian isn’t far behind you.

You ended up returning the next night.

Brian seemed to be relaxing by the front of the lobby, a book in hand that you recognized from the Curator’s collection in her office. As his eyes scanned through the pages, you waited for him to notice. And just as he turned the page, his eyes caught your own and he smiled. “Glad to have you back, [Y/N].”

“It’s too interesting to pass up.” You shrugged. “You want to come with me? I’m gonna go see everyone else.”

He joined you without question, but only upon marking his page with the tiniest of marks (and doing his best to burn the page number into his brain). Brian found his spot besides you. “I’m glad you feel this excited. You are excited, right?”

“You could use that word, if you wanted.”

And so he guided you towards the people you considered legends.

As the nights passed, you found more and more reasons to return. There was so much to ask these people, to know them in depth and have a candid conversation with “legends” who had lived decades before you.

Then there was the rest of the art in the museum. John Lennon walked you through an exhibit of the more political pieces and he spoke with a passion you had only wished to have seen in another life. Freddie and Elton took you through the temporary exhibit on avant-garde fashion in the 1800’s. One night, Roger rushed off with you as you showed him your favorite exhibit. He listened in a sort of wonder as you spoke about one of your many passions, and Brian listened in from somewhere a little way’s back, before excusing himself when realizing just how rude he was being by eavesdropping.

You didn’t notice the slight glint of jealousy in his eyes when you returned with Roger sometime later.

The nights continued to pass, and the moon greeted you every evening with a promise of unbridled possibilities. You found discussions of spirituality with George enriching, chats with Bowie on the most minuscule matters of literature, and then there was Brian.

Finding a reason to spend time alone with Brian wasn’t difficult. He always wanted to show you something, or have you talk for long periods about different things you wad worked on throughout the museum. Some nights, you could barely get a word in with someone else without seeing a smile on Brian’s face and a promise of a new adventure. It wasn’t hard to agree.

He always waited, though. If you needed to talk with someone about a pressing matter, he would gently stand close to you and wait. As patient and gentle as waves crashing against the sand, he was a constant that made your heart soar sometimes. Just when you were really thinking about it. About him.

But then, as quickly as it started, it halted. He stopped waiting to greet you every evening, leaving you to search him out. Roger or Freddie would always know where he was, somewhere quiet and lonely. And there would be a book in his hands, oftentimes something more academic that he could dive into. You guess he had to live up to his doctoral title somehow. You would gently say hello, and he would give you a gentle smile in return. He’d ask how you were doing; how was the weather today? Did you get enough sleep?

And you’d reply to every small-talk question that left you feeling as though he was trying to separate the two of you. When he wouldn’t try and continue, you would give up and tell him you’d find him later. He didn’t seem to mind. You tried not to either — there was so much to do.

But after a few weeks, you grew tired of the cat and mouse game he was trying to play. And you made sure he knew it.

That night you rushed in with such purpose and point that Freddie almost looked a little scared when he spotted you. That fear seemed to double when you rushed out, “Where is he?”

He pointed at the poster to your left. “Out of This World: How The Stars Create Art”, an exhibit on natural art, nebulas, and galaxies was all the way at the other end of the museum. You thanked him curtly and almost ran to get there.

But if you were out of breath, then you didn’t know what air was when you spotted Brian. He was relaxed on the ground, and as your eyes followed his, you found the glass ceiling panes above. He looked on in awe, and you felt the same when looking towards him.

Then, he noticed you. And he frowned. And you spat out the only thing you could think to say.

“I don’t think everyone likes me.”

He shot up, using a hand to prop himself up as he stared on. Perplexed was an understatement. “They’re all happy to have someone new to talk to.”

“Are you?”

You couldn’t match his eyes.

Nevertheless, you could sense his bafflement. “Of course.” Brian had never looked more confused than he did in that moment, with his eyebrows scrunched up in an almost painful movement. A frown was etched over his lips and you regretted it the moment you fully took in his expression. But it didn’t make much sense. In fact, it made about as much sense as any of these people coming to life every night. Why had he left you be for so long? “Why would you ask that?”

You made the power move. You inched yourself closer to him, as though your body knew you had been away from your friend for too long. It helped that he seemed to invite you over, giving you some space when you plopped down next to him. “I dunno. You haven’t been around the last couple of weeks, at all. Freddie couldn’t even figure out where you were the other night. And when I do find you, you’re reading some book.” With a beat, you added, “You’re more interested in it than me.”

“That’s not true.” He returned. His hand landed over yours as a comfort, but it was cold to the touch. You didn’t want to pull away, though. “I wanted to give you a little space. You’ve got quite a few personalities to meet.”

“You could have helped me with them. Do you know how difficult it is to walk up to any of these people and just try to have a nice little discussion? You’re kind of my key to this kingdom.”

He seemed even more pained, the frown becoming more and more pronounced as you continued. “I’m sorry,” he started. “I didn’t want to make you seem like you were being stifled by my company.”

“You’re good company. I don’t think that could happen.”

The sentiment managed to get the frown away, just a little. “I’m glad to hear that.” He looked down at his hand over yours, but there was pain in his gaze and you couldn’t have that.

“Hey,” you gently nudged him. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

He gave you a promising look in response. “Okay.”

As you settled back down to resume your stargazing, his arm gently guided you to lay on his chest. And he was soft and relaxing, so you couldn’t stop yourself. With your eyes fixed on the sky above, you couldn’t see his gentle looks towards you with eyes flickering between the two gorgeous views he found.

You felt a hand rake itself through your hair. Repetitious through the patterns, the feeling felt just as calming as the sight of the man doing it, and you almost thought you might fall asleep if this continued. But the best part was just being back around Brian.

You didn’t know how long you two stayed together until the alarm on your phone went off — reminding you the sun would rise soon. Brian helped you up, and the two of you chatted for a few minutes as you walked him out of the exhibit and towards his place. When you found the split in your paths, he lingered for just a moment longer than he should have. And there was that damn smile, making your heart soar. You were so close, but that soaring heart was replaced with the painful thought and memory of his cold hand. You remembered why his hand was cold.

You gave him a smile and a wave, letting him walk off.

“You should just kiss him,” a voice startled you. As you spun around, you found John watching the scene play out. Brian had already passed the last pillar of his hallway and left you to your own devices, but he didn’t seem to sense the other body as he left. How long had John been there? “Everyone sees it, [Y/N].” There was a smugness to his words, and you just wanted to punch him and that stupid smirk off his face. He did everything with good intention, but the smugness was a little too much for you at the moment.

“Well he doesn’t,” you shot back. For the life of you, you couldn’t seem to understand that man completely. Somewhere between avoidance and the moment you two had just shared, your head spun. Because he had to like you in some way? He even said he enjoyed your company. The fear that crept in when considering what he truly thought of you forced the next words out of your mouth before you could stop them. “And it’s not like I should anyways.”

Deaky’s eyebrow quirked. His amusement didn’t leave him as he asked, “Why’s that, again? Because he’s made of wax like the rest of us?”

You just continued to make word vomit as you replied. “You’re dead on it, Deacy. Hit the nail on the head.”

He rolled his eyes.

“But that doesn’t explain it. You’re just giving me some excuse.”

The fire was lit. He could see it in your eyes and how your hands curled into fists. He would be scared if he thought you would actually go into hurt him. “And how is that an excuse?” You spat. “I hate to break it to you, but you guys aren’t actually physically people. You can’t just walk out and live a normal life.”

Which was true. It was something that had hit you in a week prior when discovering you would have to go get books for Bowie. He couldn’t just walk out in the morning and grab something from the nearest bookstore or library. Going to clubs were out of the question for others. There was never going to be a sense of true normalcy between any of the people inside the building at night. Even more over, these men would never age. They’d never see another year, forever frozen and stuck in their prime. And what about you? You’d just continue to decay and live.

Yet, Deaky still continued to try. “I don’t want to sound like George—”

“Which one?”

“Either.” He shot back. One was as spiritual as they came and the other was a helpless romantic. Two very good people to have on his side. “But how would you consider any life normal? Explain me that judgement.”

“You don’t get it.” You shot back. “You literally can’t understand it.”

“Alright, fine.” He gave up. His hands went up in defeat and you found a sort of relaxation in the notion that this argument was over. “But you can’t escape liking him — you know you do.”

“Yeah, and so what? I don’t act on all of my feelings. Real people don’t do that.”

As John made his way past you, a gentle hand rested itself on your shoulder and you found him staring somewhere deep in to your soul. It was a little unnerving.

“This is going to sound cliche, but just choose not to be a real person.”

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anerbananers · 6 years

Text

Listen, I don’t care

idc who you stan, who you hate, if you ship them or don’t whatever. You don’t have to ship them to understand this. I only appreciate them as rivals and this is hitting me in the face and making me FEEL things y’all.

the writing of the scenes in episode 23 and just izuku and katsuki’s relationship in general is INCREDIBLY nuanced, complex, and well done! A lot of rivalries in shonen are shallow in comparison to this.

Remember this is targeted at young boys! It’s SUPER important to show them what an inferiority complex looks like, what imposter syndrome looks like. How someone can be a GOOD PERSON and still do BAD THINGS. How not to let people walk all over you. Both of these boys cry and you SEE their tears, feel their emotions. And the mentors in their lives are also there to guide them too. For young boys to see this, I think, is important. This isn’t JUST about jealousy. IJS, this is some grown shit. ADULTS IRL struggle with this. Like, Bakugou’s entire perception of Izu is warped by his insecurity. This shows how intentions and perceptions can be so WAY off. Why communication is important.

And what I love is that Horikoshi makes sure you KNOW the adults and teachers know they have a part to play in this. And it’s a theme of the story that the adults have created some hefty issues here and even if they didn’t start this, they have to take responsibility and properly guide these kids. Not just between these two boys, but in general, culturally. When you have a hero system that has emphasized might over rescue this whole time, it creates this kind of confusion! At this point in the story the hero franchise (b/c it’s a business really) is changing it’s model due to All Might’s retirement.

THAT’S WHY THE HEAVIEST HITTERS FAILED THE FREAKIN’ TEST.

Even the teachers were surprised by this change in approach. They hadn’t exactly prepped their students for this kind of thinking.

Honestly it’s a good change, but of COURSE it trips up kids like Bakugou who only emulated what he saw. Katuski, who you KNOW is smart enough to understand how the system works even as a preteen and study it to the letter. Look at it like this:

All Might saves people because he’s STRONG. He’s fast, he’s overwhelming and in PHYSICAL top shape. All Might has the ability to rescue because he wins first, because he knocks the villains out and then even if he has to flee the scene (because he’s on borrowed time), OTHER heroes can come to help civilians. But the main thing is he can beat anyone, and that fact ALONE has deterred villains from even TRYING shit until now. His charisma is a bonus, but his incredible power kept shit locked tf DOWN this entire time.

A lot of heroes rescue just fine. But only All Might is able to have such a lasting heroic influence. And his strength and power is the key difference. He’s not just GOOD, he’s the BEST. He’s not just the BEST, he outpaces the #2 hero by leaps and bounds. His strength comes from his heart, ofc, and WE know that, but Bakugou has no way of knowing that. He doesn’t understand how OFA even works.

The way Bakugou does this is brash, ofc, but he’s questioning what he believes. He’s asking WHY? He’s even asking Izuku because he doesn’t know who else, and tbh in all his anger still has to swallow a lot of pride to do so.

The guilt. Wow. The way that scene was done. *chef kiss* Sometimes when you’re a high achiever and do well in most things, nobody wonders if you need help or support or to get out of your own head. Nobody even thought that Bakugou was blaming himself because he gives off such a strong and assured aura. Which is crazy cuz for me I was like UMMM HELLO? CHECK ON HIM??

“I’m weak too, you know.”

SO IMPORTANT. Not only that Katsuki said that, but that he said it to two people I think everyone can agree he’d NEVER want to know this ideally. But he’s just at that point where his emotions are spilling over. He needs help. That’s how he’s asking for help. I was dying man. So beautiful seeing All Might embrace him and understand exactly what he needed to do. Fuck the secret. Explain so this child can be at peace on this! Too much to carry alone! For each and any one of them.

If you narrow Bakugou Katsuki and Izuku Midoriya down to “a bully and his victim” you are missing out.

this post is long because I got in my feelings. Just had to write a thesis paper. LOL. More under the cut!

I was a victim of bullying. Many times in my life. I’m small, I’m intellectual, I was social and made friends easily but I also didn’t like cliques and some other girls didn’t like that I just hung out with EVERYONE. Some boys did the “i tease you because i like you thing”. Either way, I’ve reconciled with 2 of my bullies in the course of my life. I know a thing or two about how and why bullies do what they do. And this was when I was in elementary school, so I’m telling you also that when you’re super young it’s a bit...different in your mind as you get older. This isn’t to excuse Katsuki’s actions, so let me stop you. But there is a very key difference in behavior between a typical bully and what happened with these two boys.

10/10 times, I was steering clear of my bullies. Even the ones within my friend groups that would start to do the mean girl kinda bullshit. I’d keep interaction with them to a minimum. Even when I wanted to be pretty and cool like them, I was meek and fearful in the way I interacted with them. I’d engage the other girls first and keep my head down. My bullies would approach or interact with ME, clearly seeking to gas themselves up by putting me down or bothering me. I mean, I’m sure others have experiences more similar to our boys here so maybe I’m full of shit, but the complexity with Izu and Kat is that Izuku kept approaching Bakugou with a smile and a laugh, no matter what Bakugo did. This does happen in actual abusive relationships, but for kids and not adults, and I think some folks aren’t seeing the difference. This isn’t like, weird gaslighting and manipulation. Bakugou doesn’t act like a bitch and then turn around and be all sweet on Deku to keep him closeby. Bakugou legitimately wanted Deku to go away, and when he doesn’t Bakugou, in his wild paranoia is like “what does this MEAN???” He attached a meaning to it that was completey WRONG of course, because that’s how anxiety and insecurity work. Now Izuku being the natural beautiful bean boy that is perfect for heroism, is right to do this. He somehow, even so young, could understand that sometimes people need to be saved from themselves. I’m so positive of this. And that ability frightened bakugou so much. In his eyes, he’s being tormented by this kid who sees RIGHT through him and won’t go away. Izuku represents his fear in living breathing form. Every time he sees him, it’s like an irrational reaction. In Bakugou’s eyes Izu might as well have been walking around yelling “KACCHAN IS AFRAID!!!” In his desperation not to be exposed for the insecure and fearful child he should’ve been taught is okay to be, Bakugou decides to be the absolute worst in hopes that Deku leaves him alone. As he’s doing this though, he’s getting positive reinforcement from those around him, which just solidifies this personality trait as a good thing. It’s just a mess!

Again, not condoning, I’m always just amazed at the nuances here. Bakugou was and in some ways still IS a bully (at this point in the anime at least. but in the manga currently i wouldn’t call him this anymore. grumpy? rude? yes. but honestly harmless. the class cares for him and he and izu are civil now) but also it was Deku’s choice to stick with him. He saw that Bakugou could be better and didn’t give up on him. THAT is a hero. And I think everyone is unanimous on that, and that’s why it bother’s me that people are so divided on Bakugou. I trust Izu’s judgement tbh, more than All Might’s. And both of them, Aizawa too, see that Katsuki can be better, and that he’s TRYING. and that he is willing to change because he legit WANTS to be someone All Might would choose. He’s asking Deku so many questions not just because he’s confused, but because he wants to know so he can do what HE needs to do to match up and make his idol proud.

People love a work in progress. I love how the top dog in a lot of ways is the underdog here. I love that Deku GETS it. That to others he may seem crazy. Who chases after their bully? Who admires someone who said disgusting and hurtful things to them? It’s not stockholm lol. There’s a lot to unpack there but I’m telling you, this is some real shit. It’s well written af! Heroism isn’t about being perfect and wonderful and kind all the time. All Might thinks Bakugou is an earnest kid who can be an excellent hero and just needs some work! Who doesn’t? You do! I do! You are not perfect either. A lot of fans of the series see that patience and they support not just our bright and shining Izu, but also the glowering and loud Katsuki who is growing mentally right now. I think it’s fine if his behaviour just makes you so uncomfortable and brings up bad memories. You can absolutely dislike him, it’s not for everybody! But hopefully you can objectively see why they WILL team up and be a team and the story is supporting that growth. I hope you are not disgusted by it or think it’s lazy writing just because it’s not your cup. Let these kids develop and grow and change! Step out of trope and archetype city and just feel this story arc for the realistic mirror of human nature that it is. Either way it’s a fabulous ride!

#bnha #meta #bnha meta #bakugou #midoriya #izuku #katsuki #long post #i mean LONG #mha #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya

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reena-kk · 5 years

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University student Orochimaru headcanon

Ok so I’ve thought of it along with @adios-bitchachos some time ago and not only it’s there to stay in memes but also as satisfying images in my head. Here we go! warning: it’s a bit drastic

Orphaned at young age but too old to be adopted, he grew up in an orphanage. He was never a “normal” child, almost always withdrawn, rather quiet and once spoken to, blunt and probably had trouble finding friends. He’s also developed pica somewhere along the way – even though he was being taking care of at the facility and later by his two real friends, Jiraya and Tsunade.

He met them in high school and somehow they got along well enough to Oro to actually enjoy their company (at times). They knew about his situation and supported him. He socialized a little more.

But all good times end and they left for universities, all in different cities. And here: I don’t know how this works but in this hc when he left the orphanage (as an adult with secondary education) and got into university, he received a scholarship (either from the government or university pff) (well I probably won’t write about the part when this actually matters).

Ok, now the fun part! He studied either medicine or biology, maybe genetics, whatever. And was really smort and had good results and all because yeah it’s our Oro. He even managed to blend in with a friend group at first. He was seen as weird but acceptably so. Socially he was fine until at one of the parties he got himself dragged to, an accident occurred. It was at a girl’s house, she had a pet, a hamster let’s say. Unfortunately someone dropped it while handling it and it certainly broke a few bones. There was a commotion, of course, and the girl started panicking. Orochimaru was like “ok let me take a look at him” and well, what would expect someone to do in such a situation? Certainly not say “you can’t help him anymore” and snap your pet’s neck, adding “I’ll give it to my snake”. That night he acquired a stigma. But a good, pragmatic soul said that he was actually right and he really just shortened the hamster’s suffering. But the bad impression stayed.

Putting aside the fact that he could be so absorbed in work that he forgot to eat and sleep sometimes. Which was quickly leading him to look unhealthy and further scaring people away. It’d be like that: he went groceries shopping, had food for several days. Then ate it all in one or two days and stayed hungry for the rest, before he actually went to the shop again. And also when his pica acted up, he was suffering from stomachaches because… he ate whatever. And spent too much time in the labs.

And he had mice before he had a snake. That were frequently dying because he forgot to take care of them, though. So he settled for a snake (that he probably got illegally as his finances were rather limited). He didn’t need to feed it that often so both were happy.

So there had to be a project done, once. He was in a group of his yearmates and it was decided that they would hang out at his place and do whatever there was to do and later maybe drink a beer or two. Let’s say they were already done and starting to relax. Was his place a bit shady? Yeah, but who cared, they probably even started seeing him in better light. Or was it the bliss of having done their project. WHO CARES.

It was food time for the snakey! Oro got up and went to another room and got back with, they were surprised, two mice. Both alive. And, well, he walked up to the tank and took the lid off. He put one of the little animals inside for the snake to hunt it while his other hand went up. And the whole party froze at the sound of crushed small bones. Tap, tap. Tap. A few drops of liquid landed on the floor. Yes, he ate a live mouse. His reputation dropped beneath the sea level and his mental and every other state only started getting worse after this.

He didn’t cooperate with his thesis supervisor. He turned his master thesis in and then showed up at its defense. I don’t know if you can be failed/rejected for too unethical a subject but he certainly was. Bear in mind that it’d been a couple of years of spiraling into madness for him, almost all alone and his only drive was to get this degree and work more, study and know more. When he failed to defend his work JUST because THEY saw it as UNETHICAL (yes, he conducted experiment on live objects) he SNAPPED. And, well, devoured his all-printed-out-nicely master’s thesis right in front of the professors.

Who knows if he was kicked out of the university or left himself first.

Wow I actually wrote so much. X”D And it’s not all, but it’s not clear what happened next. Very shady stuff though, very.

What’cha think? : D

@orochimemelordreturns @elysiumorchid @circegreenmoon

#orochimaru #myhc

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ambwimagines · 6 years

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Pocket Chocolate: Chapter 3, Please See me.

(Flashback)

Boy 1: You want your glasses back little weirdo ? huh ?

Boy 2: Or do you want this stupid little notebook ?

Minhyung: Hey give that back ! (reaching for his notebook)

Boy 1: And if I dont ? (Pushes him back on the ground)

Suddenly he looks and sees you out of his peripheral

Minhyung: Or I’ll tell everyone how you wet the bed at his slumber party last weekend.

Everyone: Oooooohhh!!!!

Boy 1: Shut up, mommy said I had too many glasses of milk

Everyone: *Still pointing and laughing at the boy*

Boy 1: Here take your stupid book ! you loser ! (runs off crying)

Mark gets off of the ground and dusts himself off and gets up jogging to meet you half way across the school yard.

Y/N: What?.... was that?

Minhyung: Power...(throws his arm around you as you both walk into the school)

*PRESENT DAY*

Walking into the doors of the facility. A bright sunny day. People scattered all across the lawn and inside the building of the University. Serving their purpose, fulfilling their duties one way or another. You walk through the doors hastily with no time to waste. You we're 30 minutes late for your first class and did not wanna make it 31. Your friends from Accounting 101 we're waiting by the door along with a group of other kids. You ran up to them with a puzzled look on your face. "What's going on ?" You asked the congregation of people. "Apparently ,Mr. Jung is not in today." One of your classmates spoke up calling for your attention. "Why ?" You ask walking over to him. He shrugs his shoulders and walks away. Your friends from the same foreigner exchange program and class Valerie and Erin came over to you.

Erin: Yeah we don't know we just got here and saw the note on the door.

Y/N: Well do you think he's okay ?, what if he got beat up on the way home or mugged or something ?

Erin: The man is 6'4 with a permanent scowl, I don't think anyone wants to mess with that.

Y/N: Yeah, you're right (laughs) but what about our assignment?

Erin: He's not here to give it to us sooo... Not our problem

Y/N: Okay you guys can maybe afford to miss assignments but I can, this is my sixth and final year, I have to write my thesis in less than 3 months, I don't have my FFB project done and-...

Valerie: Shhhh... do you want a repeat of last semester ?

Erin:Oh yeah they took you to the in-house mental institution

Valerie: It is called the Student mental retention center its for students who are stressed out and feel like they are on the edge of a mental break.

Erin: In house...nut house.

Y/N: Guys I get it ! okay I get it. I’m not trying to make a scene I just feel like I won’t succeed and I’m just wasting money

Erin: As dedicated as you are ? You have an A in his class right now.

Y/N: An -A Erin, I have an - A . People who come out of this program and get offers from corporate giants don’t get an -A.

Valerie: You need a break, I need a break, Erin needs a break. We all need a break. Maybe it’s a good thing Mr Jung is not here today. We all just need a little reset before the end of the semester.

Y/N: Maybe you’re right...maybe I do deserve a break

Erin: Yeah you know,...or some Valium

Y/N: Sorry Erin...(Sticks your tongue out at her)

Erin: (nonchalantly flips her off)

Y/N: You know it would be good, I can catch up with my friend, I haven’t seen him in a long while.

Valerie: Friend? Him? When did you see him?

Y/N: I saw him at the convenience store last night, Minhyung.

Valerie: Wait wait. Minhyung as in Lee Minhyung as in Mark Lee ?

Y/N: Yeah that’s him

Valerie: How come you didnt tell me Mark was your best friend ?

Y/N: I didnt know, we spent like 10 years away from each other. I know he always said he wanted to write but I didn’t think it meant he wanted to write songs for a group.

Valerie: Well you know you should have told me as soon as you found out.

Y/N: Everything isn't about you Val

Erin: I tell her that and she just hits me (blocks valeries incoming hand) See ?

(All laughing in unison)

Y/N: Guys let's go have fun today. Let's go make memories.

It was settled you guys decided to enjoy the rest of the day together. Seeing everything this great city you just when to college in had to offer. Hours of goofing off, eating and laughter had passed you by and you end up on the second floor of a store. In the home section. Looking at pillows for your dorm because you brought yours from home and they were getting worn out really fast.

Y/N: What about this black and white one that says vibes and it has fringe on it.

Erin: Nah, too conventional

Y/N: okay....what about this one ? Erin: Seriously are you even trying ?...(laughs) Y/N: It says botong ( 보통) Sleepy, which is usually sleepy, which is a giant mood.

Erin: Okay well you’re botong basic as fuck (laughs)

Y/N: Erin how did we even become friends ? Erin: You got me a C average in Mr. Jung’s class I had to repay you somehow (loudly sips her iced fruit tea)

Y/N: Ha-ha very funny (rolls her eyes) You know you actually like being around me

Erin: (pats you on the head) Yeah, keep telling yourself that kid. As Valerie snickered at the both of you this guy walked in staring at the three of you. None of you noticed him. But he noticed you guys though. He continued to stare hard as he pretended to scope out a couple of stools and coffee tables across the room. At one point you and the creep even made eye contact. You were staring at him staring right back at you and it didnt even bother him. You turn away shaking your head in disgust. You look up and see Mark walk in and you call out his real name to get his attention.

Y/N: Minhyung ! Mark: Hey Y/N hows it goin ? Y/N: It’s goin, Just lookin for some pillows. Oh these are my friends (gesturing towards the two girls) Erin and Valerie. Erin: (throws up peace sign) Sup (smiles) Valerie: Oh my god I know exactly who you are. I thought the only time I would ever get to see you would be in concert, if I was even that lucky. Mark: I take it you’re a huge fan of NCT Valerie: The biggest, I know all the songs and dance movies and for my birthday. I even got a comforter with the Pixel animation Taeyong teaser photo !!! Erin: All I got were a pack of black socks and some tin foil last year Y/N: (Holds back laughter) Mark: You have some very interesting friends Y/N: They kept me sane these past few years. Mark: I can imagine (snickers)

As you and Mark watch Erin and Valerie argue about Valerie getting her a crappy gift last year because she simply forgot. The strange man in the room went undetected and unnoticed. He got dangerously closer inching closer to your section of the room. Erin: We live together ! you said and I quote (Imitates Valeries voice) “ Hey guys if you want a gift from me just put your name under the date on this tiny pink magnetic calender I just bought, I promise I won’t forget.” Valerie: God Erin, I was busy! Erin: So busy you went to the store and got me socks and tin foil at one in the morning the day before. Valerie: In my defense I had no idea what to get you, you barely talk to anyone about the things you like. They kept on arguing and no one saw the man come on the same aisle as you four. Your back was turned to him and so was Mark’s. Erin was in mid-sentence naming off the things she liked to Valerie and that was when it happened. The man came up behind you and snatched you from the spot you were standing in. Hoisting you into the air about to take you away with him. But your friends quickly charged toward him. Grabbing the closest leg or arm of yours they could get their hand on. They pulled for their life against the abnormally strong perv. Mark grabbed the guys hands which were wrapped around your waist while you were still in the air. he pulled them apart effortlessly fumbling his grip with you. Dropping you on to Mark for him to catch you. Causing the man and your two friends to fall on the floor. Mark Gently pushes you aside walking towards the man slowly as he backs away further and further looking up at Mark. Mark grabs him yoking him up by his collar in the air and then slams him back down on to the ground. The man blunders back up to his feet and runs away.

Erin: Guys Security ! (Whisper-yelling) All four of you crouched down simultaneously behind a white shelf with vases and other decorative glassware. Crab walking and putting a finger over you guys mouths reminding the person next to you to be quiet. You all safely make your way to the other exit at the back of the store and leave. Mark walks you and your friends home walking a few steps behind you three making sure no one else tries to put their hands on you. You walked huddled between your friends in the middle of them. They both rest their heads on your shoulder. You’re holding your wrists and looking back at Mark every once in a while to make sure he’s still there. When he sees you he gives you a small reassurance smile turning up the corners of his mouth. You return a brief smile to him. You arrive at the steps of the dorms still holding hands with Erin and Valerie. They try to go ahead but you gently pull them by their hands which are in yours to get their attention.

Y/N: Guys I’m gonna talk to Minhyng for a bit is that okay ? Erin: Will you be okay ? Y/N? Erin asks with the concern seeping from her voice. Not to be dramatic but she real life almost lost you today. Only god knows what would have happened if Mark wasn’t there and your friends couldn’t fight him off or weren’t strong enough to pull you back at least. Y/N: I’ll be fine. Promise. Erin and Valerie step down a step and hug you again before the ascend the steps and go to the shared dorm. They were so worried, something told you they were gonna be this way from now on and truth be told. They had every reason to be. You step back down a step and come face to face with Mark. He turns to face north and you both walk the other way.

Mark: Are you okay Y/N ? Y/N: I’ll be fine I’m sure...won’t really trust any other guy except you from now on but, I can live with that. Mark: You know I’ll never let anything happen to you right ? Y/N: Obviously Minhyung, with what you did back there. You know it’s kinda like...it’s kinda like that day that Jack Whitaker was picking on you and you told the entire 3rd grade class he peed on himself at Tommy’s slumber party and he ran away crying (laughing as you talk) Mark: He should have never took my notebook. Y/N: (Laughs) But seriously it’s like you were an entirely different person that day and in the store. What was it ?... Mark: You want the answer ? Y/N:(turns her head to look at Mark and nods yes) Mark: You. Y/N: (Stops walking and looks at Mark wide-eyed) Mark: Yeah that day when I was getting picked on, I was feeling defeated. Then I looked up and I saw you. The day of our 5th grade graduation I was extremely nervous. Then I looked up and I saw you. When I see you I get braver. When I see you I get more strength to carry on and do what needs to be done. And when I wake up and put my feet on the floor. I grab my phone, I go to my pictures, and I look at you. Y/N: Minhyung....That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I’m speechless and I don’t know what to say. Minhyung... you’re amazing Mark: You’re ethereal Y/N: (Hugs him tight) Mark:( Hugs her tighter)

*LATER ON THAT NIGHT*

The boys were settling in to go to bed. They were washing up brushing their teeth, and putting on pajamas. Mark is just coming in the door feeling on top of the world. The load is lightened and he felt weightless. He felt like a feather. He closed the door behind him and exhaled with the utmost glee.

Doyoung: (coming out with a towel over his shoulder brushing his teeth) Last one in is the last one to the Showers. You have like 3 or 4 people in front of you. Taeyong is one of them and he likes to take long showers. Mark: Okay Doyoung,hyung Mark dances to his room sliding and moving his feet rhythmically. Today was a perfect day. Today was the day of all days. Unfortunate were the circumstances that brought it about but for him was an amazing day none the less. Johnny pops up out of nowhere leaning against the door post of his room.

Johnny: I haven’t seen you this happy since the first dance practice for our comeback. Mark: Ha-Ha very funny Johnny Johnny: What’s the occasion? Mark: (takes out his phone looking at a picture of you he made his lock-screen) I took the opportunity to let someone know where my strength truly comes from. Johnny: Oh...where? Mark: It’s a secret Johnny: Well you know a good magician never reveals his secrets Mark: (clicks his teeth and makes finger guns at Johnny) Johnny:( Does the same to mark)

Mark laid back in his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was something he didnt really do unless he was saddened by something. But in this case he was happy. He was ecstatic. But he came to a realization, to let someone know the power you have over them is a gift and a curse. Depending on what they do with the knowledge obtained. How they act, what they think of you, the decisions they make in light of you. It effects you. He silently says to himself while he closes his eyes his one wish, his one prayer. If god never gave him anything or did anything ever again....Just one thing. Just one Mark: I trust Y/N with my heart, please don’t let her break it.

Postscript: If it’s not too much trouble please shoot me a quick message or put a lil’ something in my inbox giving me your honest opinion on this chapter, the series so far or whatever as long as it Pertains to Pocket Chocolate only . I really want to know what I can do to make it a better series and a better reading experience for you all and I won’t know what you want unless you tell me. Some writers think they are above criticism and you should just accept whatever they put up. Not me. Let me know what you might want to be talked about in the next chapter perhaps, if anything, even my writing style. My spelling, my egregious use of slang or the Korean-Romanization of words or mis-use of Korean words. Whatever you feel just slightly keeps you from enjoying my writings the way you want to. Tell me and I’ll fix it, tweak it, whatever I need to do. As always I love you all so very much. Thank you for reading and supporting. -Kayla

#lee minhyung #mark lee #ambw fluff #kpop ambw #NCT #NCT 127 #love #happiness

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