#I always want it to be easy to fact check my stuff. for science. or in case anyone else isn’t normal in the same ways i am | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spankinganthologies · 26 days

Text

Bright Girl OTK - Fairies and Fairytales

I have always loved the spanking vignettes posted by @brightgirlotk (as well as all the rest of the stuff posted on her tumblr - science/ math, philosophy, humor, unclothed women...)

So it's ridiculous that I haven't added her before to the Spanking Anthologies collection!

(unfortunately, because of Tumblr being stupid, she's taken the best of her writing talents elsewhere for several years now - see

Caitlin Tureaud (@CaitlinTureaud) - Wattpad - Temporal Exploring 101 - First Transit)

She has many great topics to choose from but I chose to start with her stories of Fairie Time...

Willow-Leaf had no idea how she had even got here. Trailing a human trespasser in Eldaryn Wood, she had passed between the standing stones and suddenly found her herself in this strange place, with human people dressed in strange garb and speaking a strange language.

She did not know then that before the day was over she would be accused of shoplifting, get kissed by a human lad, get her bare bottom spanked, inadvertently start a fire and be bedded by a red-haired human girl.

I guess my friend Carol deserved extra points for authenticity: they certainly didn’t wear panties in medieval times.

***

It was a visitation of sorts, but not an unpleasant one, at that. Ylsiphaistora and myself got along surprisingly well, considering that she had been sent to seduce me to the Dark. I was aware of her intentions, of course, but she had such pretty wings and boobs! In the end, I guess that both sides of the Great War were shocked when they learned that the two of us had elected to elope with each other to Places Unknown and Unheard Of.

I need to try this. Preferably in a faraway place where nobody knows me.

brightgirlotk

LinkPinup FanArt by CrisDelaraArt

The elven girl was eager to prove herself. Maybe a bit too eager: on her first day on the elven border patrol, she volunteered for a one-elf mission to secretly enter the human lands to check their military forces and fortifications. The human ranger who intercepted her immediately realized he was dealing with a rookie. He took her over the knee and spanked her little elven butt to a bright red before he sent her back to her squad. Upon her return, what had transpired on her mission was obvious to anyone who caught a glimpse of the telltale color of her butt under her short elven cloak. Her comrades were tactful enough not to mention it in her presence. Surely, she would learn from mistakes like everybody else had.

Red Riding Hood had been summoned to visit her Grandma asap so the old lady could ‘have a word with her’. This didn’t sound good, Red Riding Hood thought. The old lady had repeatedly criticized her for the way she dressed. In fact there was a good chance that Red might get her tight little backside spanked at Grandma’s place. Well, there was little that could be done about that. Swinging her little butt that peeked out under her short skirt, Red Riding Hood started on her journey to Grandma’s house in the forest.

brightgirlotk

I feel a strange affinity for that picture. As if that girl in the picture were me, scribbling arcane formulas and equations. You can even see Schrödinger's cat playing with a ball of wool.

brightgirlotk

Choosing a suitable whipping girl for the adolescent royal princess was a necessary if somewhat wearisome task, though there was by no means a lack of young ladies of noble lineage who applied for that position – a position that entailed acquaintance not only with the princess and her tutors, but also with various members of the royal family.

brightgirlotk

To find a suitable mortal to perform the ritual had been easy. These days, mortals were so very susceptible to any kind of glamor or illusion, so ready to be goaded into doing what you wanted, their very thoughts and emotions so easy to read. That woman here had a daughter who had recently entered some place of higher learning, but the daughter was acting irresponsibly, spending her mother’s hard earned coin without a care. It had been child’s play to use the woman’s anger to induce her to perform the ritual beating. Which she was doing exceptionally well, the nymph thought somewhat ruefully. Her bottom felt as if it was on fire. Surely, this must be enough to satisfy Artemis and the minor deities.

Karen blinked. Here she was, in her familiar living-room, but for a moment, she had imagined herself to be in a grotto laid out with exquisite carpets, doing … something she couldn’t remember. ‘Something needful’, she murmured, confused and somewhat shaken. Speaking of needful, she needed to confront Katie and make that girl see some sense. Karen’s 19-year-old daughter yet had to learn that her ill-considered actions might have unpleasant consequences. It was then that Karen realized she was holding something in her right hand. Some sort of a switch, it appeared. A picture of Katie’s jeans-clad backside flashed through her mind. And suddenly she understood what had to be done. Keeping a tight hold on the switch, Karen briskly made for her daughter’s room.

***

(replacement photo)

brightgirlotk

‘Still tired? Did you indulge in another little bit of late night entertainment last night, Jennifer?’ There were shocked gasps from several of the other servants. Mary was the only one of them who was allowed to call me by my first name. We had been friends and had played together when we were little. Now I was the earl’s daughter who was going to inherit estate and title, and Mary was one of the chamber maids. Since my parents had left to spend three months abroad, Mary had taken to not just teasing me, but making fun of me in front of the other servants. This could not be tolerated, and Mary was aware of that. 'You know you are not to speak to me in such a disrespectful tone, Mary’, I scolded her, hoping that she would have the grace to at least look embarrassed. I had no such luck. 'Are you going to discipline me, then?’ 'I may have to’, I replied. Although I had never done that myself, I knew that my mother chastised the maids when necessary, and I knew where she kept the implements. 'Ouch.’ Mary said it with a grin. She really left me no choice. 'Bend over’, I ordered, 'now.’ For a moment, I thought I saw a pleased smile on her face. I fetched a cane, and Mary bent over and raised her skirts, humbly presenting her bottom. As the other servants watched, I administered three strokes to her bare backside. 'Stay like that.’ I traced the marks on her smooth skin with my finger tips. She shuddered and moaned softly. I cleared my throat. 'You may get up now and prepare a bath for me. You may attend me while I take my bath.’ 'Very well’. Mary’s face had gained some color. I went to my rooms and undressed, lost in thoughts, as Mary filled hot water into the tub. I was not really surprised when somewhat later she undressed and, with a playful smile, joined me in the tub.

brightgirlotk

After my inexcusable outburst at the dinner table, with all of our guests in attendance, it was clear that there would be consequences. Our new governess, Kathleen Amberhurst, had been sent for and was now quietly conversing with my mother. When she had been first introduced to me and my sister, Ms Amberhurst had made it very clear that she considered neither me nor Eileen too old to get disciplined. A week later, I had watched her apply a switch to my sister’s bare bottom. So I rather knew what to expect. After a few strokes, Eileen had been bawling. Chances were that I would be bawling too, a few minutes from now. Afterwards, I would have to return to the party and behave as if nothing had happened. Our dinner guests were regarding me with expressions that ranged from pity to amusement. The governess concluded her discusson with my mother and walked over to where I was sitting. She regarded me coolly. ‘So, Miss Evelyn, your mother informed me that you and me need to have a little talk. Let us take care of that in your room, shall we?’

brightgirlotk

My sister Allie and I had been so excited to discover that ancient book of spells in our granddad’s old study. The spells were all in Latin, which neither of us could read.

“What kind of spell is this, do you think?” my sister asked, pointing to some random page.

“Well, let’s try and find out,” I proposed.

www.jpcworldcolorgalery.hautefort.com

brightgirlotk

A very happy naughty angel

brightgirlotk

Just when Red Riding Hood thought she knew exactly what was going to happen next, it started to snow, and everything changed.

8 notes · View notes

enneamage · 1 year

Text

Youtube, counterculture and What The People Want. These are massive topics that really get the noggin joggin’. Tommy delivered a motivational speech (still peppered with a bit of a lack of awareness that the people he looks back on fondly were once criticized for creating low effort trend following content) about how the people are craving a change because of how hollow certain video formats are becoming.

I’ve touched a little bit on Mr.Beastification before, namely how people are using him as a scapegoat to disown their own pull towards the illusion of safety and guaranteed success. The era of algorithm hacks and mind tricks that we’re in now reminds me a bit of the media version of the pickup artist / redpill scene, where self-styled experts try to brute force human behavior and connection through over-focusing on numbers and science of dubious origin. People have always wanted to bottle and redistribute luck and charisma, and the fact that the YouTube game is half human and half machine makes it seem slightly less insane to try and ‘hack.’

As an aside, is there anyone checking up on the people who solely and religiously follow all these hacks and advice? Like, are they actually doing well (in a numbers and personal wellbeing sense) when that’s the primary pillar of their content? I feel like even in the case of Mr. Beast, he probably over-reduces his success down to the variables that he can control/measure rather than the unknowable pile of factors outside of them, so it’s probably not as easy to replicate as he makes it sound.

(Dr. Mittens has a good post about how despite the narratives around Dream, Dream did not come up from zero solely because of his tactical brain, although he’s often used as an example of someone who power-gamed his success.)

So two questions come up in the wake of all this, what is the public hunger that Mr. Beastification inspires, and is YouTube really the place that this pushback is actually going to happen? If YouTube the platform is partly to blame for a certain kind of content rising to the top, one of the simplest answers is to get content somewhere else, which sounds like what Tommy is trying to avoid. Youtube has a virtual monopoly on longform public video hosting so they’re not in meaningful competition with other websites doing exactly what they do, so the threat of this is a bit less.

I look in my subscription feed and even my for-you page and I kind of can’t complain—YouTube knows that I’m “The video essay type” and goes from there, and that’s the bit about the algorithm I can appreciate at the end of the day. I have, largely, been insulated from the dumber things out there. This feels like an issue that’s been taking root in areas that are less curated than my corner, and maybe that’s part of the issue—between youtube hiding most of it’s videos unless it already thinks you’re going to like them and the market flooded with nothingburger formula videos (these problems create each other), it’s more rewarding to stay in your corner than actively seek out new stuff.

Something that I think I want from YouTube (but I don’t think I’ll get because if it were to be part of the system itself it would immediately get abused) is a human referral system. Like the actual ability to curate a page/feed of videos, maybe with a comment to give them context / a reason why you like them. This is because I don’t think I’ll ever trust the creator’s desperation (built-in) and the robot overlords (just want more minutes) over another complete rando who is genuinely like “I enjoyed this :D.” Human attention follows the attention of other humans, and while the algorithm follows that logic in a crude way, putting some texture back into that process might be able to do a lot.

On the topic of franchises, most of the fictional content I consume is from a fandom background so I know that repetition and familiar formats/premises have their place. (Call me parasoical but I like knowing who people are.) I understand why people want to talk about creativity and originality in a world obsessed with formula and guarantees, but I would say to not throw the baby out with the bathwater either, because some people can become so obsessed with innovation that they become backhandedly disdainful of people who have more grounded and reliable tastes.

#tubeposting #Mage has decided to play one-sided discourse pong with Mr. Simons to pass the time

13 notes · View notes

theworldinclines · 1 year

Text

Title: this is easy (the signs are simple prequel, wave’s pov)

Pairing: Pre-Pang/Wave

Read on Ao3 or below the cut -

Wave expected his counselor to congratulate him on another week’s work, as impressive and leagues above the other students as Wave always is. What he receives is Kru Pom shuffling through papers with his patented mix of concern and cheerfulness.

“Have you given any more thought to joining — ”

“I don’t need a sport on my transcript.”

“Wave, it will diversify — ”

“I don’t need to diversify my transcript. I’m going to university for computer science; nowhere on any of their brochures does it say I’ll only be accepted if I’ve kicked a ball at some other kids.”

Pom brings his hands together atop the desk, his strained patience evident. Wave’s been waiting for this guy to snap since the afternoon they’d met three years ago, but it’s yet to happen. Maybe today will be the day.

“Wave,” Pom says, “you remember what I told you last month?”

“The ultimatum?”

“It wasn’t — ” Pom takes a small breath. “Is this you making your decision?”

Wave doesn’t date. A small glitch in junior high had put him off the notion. It isn’t so bad that he’s actively, like, repulsed by seeing couples in public or in the media; they can do whatever they want. It doesn’t matter to him. An endless barrage of assignments and his extra credit IT position give him plenty enough to focus on without getting himself worked up by hands held in the street. When he’s got so much to deal with, Wave just can’t let little stuff get to him.

Except for, of course, one not so small annoyance named Pawaret. Wave isn’t sure what it is about the other boy that makes him so — maybe the word he’s looking for is homicidal. A more stable person might just say uncomfortable.

Either way, Wave considers himself fortunate that he and Pang don’t normally study in the same classroom, Pang in VIII, Wave in I. The only time during a day that finds the two boys together is a required World History class, something Wave considers a foolish waste of his energy and a total bore as well. If he wanted to hear about a 200-year-old spat between two countries, the Internet could provide far more accuracy than a textbook written in the mid-90s could.

On his end, Pang excels in History. He’s not a numbers man, a fact Wave has unwillingly learned in his time hearing Pang whinge to his buddy Nac about maths homework. He does much better in the liberal arts, things Wave generally has no use for and finds tedious. Numbers and figures don’t lie. There’s a consistent answer, always, with no room for opinions and feelings. It’s ideal for someone like Wave, who’s none too gifted when it comes to such things.

His ears catch Nac insisting that Pang ask some poor sap for help with the maths assignment. Wave doesn’t like Nac. Wave bets that one tap would crack like plastic against Nac’s perfectly gelled hair, and he’s got a smile that would fit the face of a bully in a lame made-for-TV movie. He hasn’t yet provoked Wave, so he really hasn’t any reason to dislike him this severely, but that doesn’t stop Wave’s eyes from rolling to the sky whenever Nac is in the vicinity.

Right now he has an arm around Pang’s chair as he brushes their shoulders together to whisper. Wave shakes his head at the display. They don’t ever shut up, even when class is set to begin in mere minutes. You’d think they would want to check over their work for today, or for once in their life do anything that might prove useful, but of course they just babble to each other until the very last second. Idiots.

“Uh, Wave?”

Startled, Wave looks up to find that Pang has all but teleported to Wave’s desk sporting a sheepish grin. That look probably gets Pang whatever he wants — from anyone who isn’t Wave. Unlike those of a weaker will, Wave just stares at him, then pointedly returns to his work.

“I was wondering if you could help with my algebra,” Pang perseveres. “I’m one tanked quiz away from flunking and if I don’t get at least a B-plus on this assignment, I’m — ”

“Why should I help you?”

“Because… you’re a computer genius?” Pang counters. “The best with numbers and stuff I couldn’t do in a million years?” The raised eyebrows beneath his (unfortunate) fringe suggest that anyone with half a brain would know this about Wave Wasuthorn. Which isn’t exactly incorrect.

Pang’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, continuing, “How many more compliments will you accept as payment for helping me?”

“None.”

“Really?” Pang says happily, his features alight with a grin.

Wave forces his eyes back down to his History textbook. “None — because I’m not helping you,” he clarifies. “I have enough to do without having to teach you basic math.”

“I mean, algebra-two isn’t basic — ” When it’s clear that Wave isn’t going to look at him again, Pang’s lips zip into a frown over words that he can’t say in a classroom and he simply returns to his seat.

“Worth a shot,” he mutters to Nac.

“He’s such a jackass; as if he couldn’t spare an afternoon,” Nac says, voice barely lowered. Wave’s jaw clenches, but he isn’t one to be goaded by infantile troglodytes so he doesn’t look their way. Pang isn’t his responsibility. If Nac is really that bothered by Pang’s failings, he can tutor the guy on his own and see if that gets him anywhere.

To his surprise, Pang replies quietly to Nac, “Maybe he’s actually busy. He’s in classes we’ve never even heard of.”

Nac snorts, but doesn’t say anything else. Soon after, class is called to order and for the duration Wave manages to not think about Pang defending him to his best friend, even despite Wave’s prior refusal to offer aid.

Pang is actually in the library when Wave gets there, which he has to add as a point in the guy’s favour. It’s just enough to lend confidence to Wave in his change of heart. He announces his arrival by dropping his bag onto the table with a clunk.

“I hope you’re excited to work your ass off,” Wave says, a cheerful tone going against his flat frown.

Pang looks at him in confusion. “You’re going to tutor me? But you said th — ”

“Do you want me or not?” Wave demands, overriding his own inept phrasing with a glare.

Pang looks like he wants to be annoyed, probably is super annoyed, but his voice is nothing but earnest when he says, “I need to pass this class. Help me.”

Pang looks pathetic and desperate, which is entertaining as hell, and it so happens that this came at the perfect time.

“Then listen up.”

The following morning, Wave drops into his counselor’s office with an unceremonious, “I’m not doing a sport.”

Kru Pom sighs. He sighs a lot where Wave is concerned. “Then it’s the tutoring,” he says. “I’ll reach out to a couple students I’ve spoken with.”

“I already know someone who needs the help.”

“It isn’t a good idea to tutor a friend, Wave; you’ll both need to focus.”

Wave very nearly laughs out loud. “Trust me, he isn’t a friend,” he assures the counselor. “But he’s basically failing and bringing up his marks will make me out to be a miracle worker. I’ve already considered every angle.”

Pom stares at Wave, but nods slowly. “I can see you’ve made up your mind. Who is it?”

“Class Eight kid. Parawet Sermrittirong.”

“Ah, Pang. He’s a good student with a lot of ideas. Bit of trouble focusing.”

Well aware of Pang’s inability to do anything but chatter, Wave scoffs at what he thinks is an understatement. He hitches up his bag on his way out but pauses at Kru Pom’s, “Do try to be — patient with this kid, alright, Wave? You might find you even get along.”

“I don’t plan on needing to stick around him long enough for that.”

#this is mad short its just a little ditty ive had in my wips for literal years dont mind me #my writing #links #ao3 #fics #the gifted #pangwave #pang x wave #thai bl #the signs are simple #i literally had this queued for like 10 and then saw dawn already commented on ao3 gjsmdmsfm pangwave stans dont sleep BOP BOP💥💥#💓💕💞💕💞💕💞💞💕

8 notes · View notes

ciaossu-imagines · 1 year

Note

I just thought of something that I should’ve asked on day two but forgot. During Bandō’s drunken rant he says “It’s true that I was kinda nerdy but at least I was good at sports…”. What do you think he meant specifically like that? My latest theory is that he said it because he’s good with computers and that kinda stuff (his character profile said that he’s good with machinery) but I’d like to hear your thoughts on it.

This was a really great ask, my lovely anon! I love getting to really deep dive into stuff like this and I hope you’ll enjoy my take on this!

Now, first addressing the ‘good at sports’, I do believe that Bandou was, and still is, pretty good at sports. While he lacks the pure physical power or stamina of some of the other boys, Bandou has really good hand-eye coordination and can generally handle his body pretty well (except around horses, which he might now have a grudge, and a tiny phobia around, thanks to Basashi). While he might not always be the best sport, he’s pretty good at working with a team, if he respects the other players on his team at least.

Onto the nerdy part! I definitely do see Bandou, though he may come off foolish at times, as definitely being one of those dumb smart people. He’s actually really intelligent; it’s just that he does dumb shit because he gets swept up in things or, sometimes, because he does kind of want the attention or the thrill of doing something risky and dangerous.

I feel like his brain works very logically and very straight-forward, despite being an emotional kind of guy, and even from early on in his school life, he not only excels at, but actually enjoys, science and mathematics. He can perform mental math really quickly and numbers come incredibly easy to him. It’s nothing for Kusanagi to slide him a sheet of calculations for Bandou to double-check or to get Bandou to figure out which of the possible suppliers is the best solution for the bar based on all these facts and data Izumo has.

Though he stopped putting much work into his schooling towards the end of middle school and into high school, Bandou had extremely good grades throughout his early education. He could have been accepted into a prestigious high school, if his behaviour wasn’t so rough and if he had decided to put the work into it. He really only gave up on school because he doesn’t really like authority and because, honestly, the work they were being given in school was stuff that he found too easy, and he’d get bored and just not do it.

Bandou’s also very technologically competent. He understands technology, computers, and gadgets. Those are things that come naturally to him and things he enjoys. Not only does he understand enough about computers to be able to suitably hack into things he needs to, but he also can build computers and I do think that his own laptop is a modification of his own design, if not a custom build.

Bandou’s also really good with his hands and is mechanically minded. He loves gadgets and tech and can figure out how things work. He enjoys taking apart new things he encounters, figuring out what makes them tick, and can fix a lot of things technology wise. But he’s also pretty good with just basic handyman work and mechanics. It’s not something he enjoys quite as much, but he does enjoy it, and it’s usually Bandou that the HOMRA boys go to when they have vehicle issues, with them only going to a mechanic if Bandou doesn’t have the right tools.

#event asks #k project #project k #headcanons #bandou saburouta

4 notes · View notes

persephoneflouwers · 1 year

Note

Hello, I hope you have a good day

Tw: smoking, cancer

So there's a discourse on twitter going about how louis's smoking habit is dangerous and how it can have very damaging side effects uk with having history of cancer in his family. It bugs me how as fans they can't maintain a boundary.. But i am an anxious mess thinking about it.. I've always been regarding this topic. But now it has exceeded.. How do you manage thoughts like this as a doctor? When you constantly come across cases related to smoking and with the whole situation with lou. Like do you have any tips.?

Feel free to not answer this. 😥

Hello 🌸

Oh, this is a very good question. I’m sorry you’re feeling so overwhelmed right now. I think when you know how diseases work, you see things differently. It’s a bit easier to discriminate the cases: how many cigarettes per day? How long have you been smocking? How old are you? Is this an hereditarian case or were there other preventable factors? We are trained to come to diagnosis. You have to know the clinical history, the clinical presentation, side effects or literally anything in order to come to a conclusion. It comes across arrogant to find a diagnosis based on one thing such as smocking. Smocking is bad, of course it is. What else is new? It’s not just about cancer either. Smoke is the risk factor in every other issues (voice, breathing, stamina etc). But I know how hard it can be to quit too.

Fans have to know their boundaries here. I think fandom anxiety comes from the uncertainty around this topic (does he takes blood tests periodically for example? Is he getting checked every once in a while? Does he have a family medicine doctor who is there for him? We don’t know). The fact is, we don’t know much except for what we see or we are told every once in a while. I think no one has ever had THE talk with Louis about it, but that’s very normal for a young healthy man. The thing with smocking is that has been always so socially accepted it makes it harder to see the struggles of your health because of it. I’ve seen surgeons smocking in front of my two eyes! And I was like “how dare you? You literally operate these things inside people’s bodies!” but you know how humans are. You feel invincible and by the time you realise you are not, the cardiologist has already prescribed anti-hypertension and beta-blockers drugs.

My suggestion is to not take this burden on you. It’s not your job, not your responsibility as a fan (or as a doctor, by the way). Also stay away from twitter if you can. It’s very easy to be overwhelmed by the discourse over there. When something good happens you are surrounded by so much excitement, but it happens with controversial things too. The fact is when we go online and read stuff from other blogs or accounts, we don’t always match the energy. That’s absolutely normal, because we are individuals living our real life in different ways and in different moments. When discourses like this start, we are left with so many questions and worries coming from all the sides and that’s what you want to avoid. Stay away from any thing can make you feel uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter how little it is. Filter tags, block, say you’re not interested. Do whatever it takes to preserve your experience of the fandom. Today, this discourse feels like an unnecessary concern. Try not to stress on this thinking how being their health counsellor is not your role.

Anyway, this is a reminder to not smoke ffs. Here’s a thread I wrote a couple of years ago for the No Tobacco Day WHO campaign on the Louies science account, in case you’d want to spread some knowledge about the bad effects of smocking. :)

#I would convince Louis to quit by saying he could have erection deficiency issues lol that’s another story.#casella di posta numero 32 #tw smoking #tw cigarettes #tw cancer #it’s also what i call ‘polar opposite’ propaganda #you have to find your ways to not be concerned about the stuff he does #what I do is basically what experience has taught me #in mthe years of med school an hopefully in my career from #now on #i have learned patients are not the most reliable source when it comes to their personal health #they don’t tell you always the truth for many reasons (shame embarrassment stigma fear of being judged fear in general)#this is a reminder to not fucking smoke ffs #i think if the team knows the demographics of his fanbase #they should try to moderate questions and topics like this #because that’s really not how you separate his image from the boybander image lol

9 notes · View notes

chicagolive · 1 year

Note

Hi, Doly! My apologies for missing the last two days, thank you for waiting and always being kind when I’m late/miss a day. I appreciate it. How have the past few days been for you? I hope they’ve been well!

How exciting to be into the same games! Love that for us as well! I actually played god of war! It was like five or six years ago now but I was obsessed and then I got to the final boss, the big bad, and I just couldn’t fucking beat it!!! It’s been so long now that I dont even know if I ended up beating it! Those are all great games as well, I’ve watched people play just about all of them and I feel the same about the patience of learning the game! I remember one of the first games I ever played was Fable for the original Xbox, my dad and brothers would play it and I just liked it cause it had choices you could pick to make you good or bad and it was just kinda silly but also good. It’s been a very long time since I’ve played it though.

The weather has dropped since the last ask I sent which is nice but it’s just a mess of going up and down! It was humid/muggy and rained today and was in the 70sF and yet somehow the predicted low of the week is 41F so we’ll see!! I live in the south so it’s always higher in temp! Oh that sounds so fun! I hope you have such a great time in Puerto Rico for the holidays! I dont celebrate religiously either, I just like the holiday for time with people in my life!

I cant believe today was fine lines third birthday, oh, my heart!!! What a fabulous album, it means so much to me. It was such a special album and I loved seeing Harry’s post about it. The Louis content has been great too with the signings and concerts! I hope he’s doing well with his arm.

That’s a good answer, I definitely want to have my own space when I have a house like I don’t want to share a fence with my neighbors and etc. I’ve never had that kind of Chex mix so I’ll definitely have to check them out next time I’m wandering the gas station for a snack! And sour cream chips are always a classic. I love YouTube essays and stuff like them, I have like a whole playlist of random videos I think would interest me that I watch when I remember I have it. It ranges from cooking, miniature building, ocean facts, how lava lamps are made/tech stuff from the past and just anything like that. I absolutely fell down a hole earlier this year and just binged Vsauce videos because they are so interesting! His “Did people used to look older video” was fantastic! And his series he used to do on his YouTube was so interesting! I recommend the one about the power of suggestion!

Speed round!! What are your favorite lyrics of FITF? I have so many!!!! I really love “Through my cigarette, a shadow of you sticks me to the carpet, try to ignore it.” And honestly all of Saturdays!!! I’m only gonna put that one since it’s the first that came to mind!

Since its fine lines birthday: which single from the album, as of right now in this moment, is your favorite? Watermelon Sugar, Adore You or Falling? I think mine would have to be adore you! It just makes me so happy and makes me want to dance so much!

Do you enjoy museums? Any kind! Science, art, history etc!! I always love a good museum day, especially science I think or contemporary art/art ones!

Do you enjoy the experience of going to a movie theater? I tend to like it as long as me and my friends are the only people in the theater usually! Which is easy to have happen if you go to a movie at a weird time!

Do you have a lot of things on your keychain, if you have one? I used to have way more things on mine but right now I just have like three keychains on one ring to be one and I just love having little guys/weird things everywhere, which I’ve made obvious in my past asks so of course my keychain is the same! I’m always on the hunt online/in thrift stores/garage sales for weird keychains

Alrighty I think I’m gonna cut it there! I hope you’ve had a wonderful few days and I’m sending love and good vibes your way!! I’ll talk to ya soon!!

-🎉❄️

Hii, honey!! Don’t worry about it!! I figured life got in the way!! Sending you all the love and good vibes as well!! 💕✨

I’m doing okay, for the most part!! Just getting the last minute details for my trip later this week!! It’s the calm before the storm that is going to the airport 🫠. I just wanna land on the island already.

Once we’re off anon, if you’re up for it, we should def. link up for some games!! That’d be so cool!! My brother was the same way; he kept getting sidetracked and took forever to get to the final boss only for him not to be able to beat it either, from the last time I had spoken with him about it. Ooooo, fable! I’d have to look into that!! One of the earliest memories I have of playing video games was when I got my first game boy color! I had so many games raging from Kim Possible to That’s So Raven to Power Rangers!! It’s always the knock-off games that come from the larger franchises that are just 😙👌 Lol.

Man, I wish our low of the week was around 40°F!! The lowest the temps. are getting this week are 20°F 🥶. Honestly, as long as it doesn’t snow, I’m fine with the cold!! The tediousness of having to shovel the snow off the main sidewalks/parking spots on the road become so tiresome. That, and my car doesn’t do well on icy roads so :/

The happiest of birthdays to fine line indeed 🥳💙💕. That album has such a special place in my heart!! I hope so too!! Are you seeing Louis next year, by chance? I can’t wait to see him in philly!!

My one friend from high school was very much into VSauce!! I’d have to give them another go! Speaking of recommendations, I passed by target earlier this week and got a copy of Project Hail Mary to take with me on the plane!! Once I get pretty far in it, I’ll def. give you my thoughts on what’s happening thus far!!

Speed Round Answers!!! Fav. Lyrics off of FITF? My fav. Song is Chicago, but the lyrics to All This Time really speak to me in a whole different way!! It’s straight poetry!! Everyone’s probably said it already but the lyrics “the friends we make, the love it takes, it’s worth the pain (worth it all this time)”. It’s all just *chief’s kiss* (I agree with you about Saturdays tho!! It’s the one song that took a little longer for me to get into, but it’s so great!!). Fav. Single off of Fine Line? I have to agree. Adore You is very good!! It’s probably my fav. Music video as well!! If “She” were a single, I’d say her lol!! It should have been a single, in my opinion!! It would have went so hard!! Opinions on Museums? I enjoy a good museum. My fav. Types are the ones that deal with sculptures/installations!! During my junior year of college, my 3D art professor took our class to a sculpture park as well as an indoor installation where the artist used neon lights as one of its main elements!! Here’s a picture of what I mean!! I can’t really explain it very well lol.

I’m all in for interactive museums!! Keychain accessories? As of right now, my keychain consists of a bunch of random house keys, car keys, and a keychain from Puerto Rico that I got last year of a frog resting on a tree trunk. It’s very basic in comparison to what I usually have.

I have a questions for you!! When was the last time you laughed so hard, you almost cried?! 🎄✨

#holiday pals 🎄✨#ask

0 notes

clairecrive · 3 years

Note

hi! I just recently found your account and I've been spending all my time reading everything you've written, and I wanted to tell you that I absolutely adore your writing! it's so beautiful.

I also wanted to request a friends to lovers nikolai x reader fic (you don't have to make it friends to lovers if you don't want to!) something along the lines of this: they get seperated after the battle with the darkling at the end of siege and storm and reader has to go with alina but they finally reunite? and everyone is super smug because they knew it would happen.

sorry for such a long ask and no worries if you decide not to do it! I hope you're doing well!!

Fools, pistols blazing and shock

A/n: a promise is a promise and the second most requested fic was Nikolai and angst and so here it is! friends to lovers is not my favorite trope but I enjoyed writing this. I hope you will too x

Thank you so much for your beautiful words btw, they mean the world <3<3

tags: @jupiterandbutterflies , @agentsofsheilds , @for-bebbanburg , @randomoutsiders , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @story-scribbler , @crowssixof , @odetostep , @lizzie-he4rts , @korol-lantsov , @subjecta13-thefangirl ,@gallysonegoodlung , @a-c-lee , @mriddlemethis , @carnationworld , @thanossexual , @luvxginger , @sanna2020 , @partiesandblurrypolaroids , @edithsvoice , @wafflesandschemingfaces , @snugleo , @sugarmelonwater , @dobwhore, @sassybadqueen , @anything-forourmoony, @snokoi, @imaginingimagines, @vintagebitc_,

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

"So," he twirled around, "how do I look?" With a theatrical gesture, he stopped in front of you.

You looked at him, head to toe, before saying, "Like a fool I know."

He was imperturbable, by the smirk on his face one would think that you had paid him a compliment. "The answer was far simpler: handsome."

"You look like a prince," you conceded, " but so does your brother so take that as you will." And with that, you walked to your assigned post leaving a scandalized Nikolai behind.

The dinner went by smoothly even if you had to bear Vasily being his annoying self. So far so good. The important thing was that the people around the table were under no threat. The rest was bearable.

And no, it had nothing to do with Nikolai winking at you from time to time. Flirting was second nature to him and Alina's presence by his side was a cold reminder of how things were.

It took one look at her for your face to go as blank as Mal's on the other side of the room.

You had disconnected from the conversation at the table for a second, your attention going to the exit where a Grisha soldier had just walked in to talk to Zoya. If you had been paying attention to Nikolai, you would have known what to expect.

But you hadn't and so the next few seconds were pure chaos.

The unthinkable happened.

Black shadows filled the room, leaving no chance to the people they had appeared before. The Queen's scream brought your attention back to the table and consequently to the Vasily. Or rather, to what was left of him.

Beside him, the kind had crouched down to hide and was cowering behind the throne. The Queen clutched her son's body to her chest wailing and screaming. Then your eyes fell on him, standing tall in front of his parents shooting away.

You didn't know what you were going to do. You didn't think. You just acted and the next thing you knew, you were running towards him shooting fire at whatever tendrils of shadows you could see.

"Nikolai!"

In a moment, you reached his side, covering his back for every possible attack.

"You need to go," you urged him over the sounds of crying and shooting. A shot of light filled the room blinking you for a moment and panic shot through you at the possibility of Alina being hurt.

"Take your parents and Alina and go Nikolai. You can't stay here!" You insisted again, still back to back, unwilling to let anything happen to him. If he meant to argue you didn't know. You heard him speak but his words went unheard over the chaos in the room.

You turned around just in time to see one of those things trying to make their way to him. The tendrils of fire that shot through you slowed it down but it was only a shot of wind coming from a squaller that did the trick and sent it away.

Nodding in the squaller's direction you took Nikolai's shoulders and turned him towards the secret exit behind the throne.

"Stop playing hero and just go for Saint's sake!" Under normal circumstances, he was stronger than you. And well, he still was but too busy worrying about getting his family to safety and covering your back, he ended up succumbing to your shoves.

"I can't leave you here!"

"You can and you surely will! I'll make sure that Alina is safe," ushering him and his parents towards the exit, you didn't give him time to argue. Once they were through the door, you closed it behind them and melted the lock.

You allowed yourself only a moment to worry about him, to mourn him if things were to go downhill for you. Only a second for you to mourn the future that you knew you were never going to get with him.

Then it was over. Your heart locked away and your mind focused solely on the battle ahead. You needed to make sure that Alina was alive and get her to safety whilst also trying to save as many as you could along the way.

A piece of cake.

*+*+*+*+*+*

You knew that he had made it out of Os Alta alive. You had gotten word that he had arrived safe and sound to one of his hiding spots scattered around the country.

Alina and a group of other Grisha, including yourself, had managed to make it out alive out of the capital as well.

All was as well as it could be under these gloomy circumstances. And yet, you couldn't help but feel like you had lost.

Too many had fallen under the Darkling's wrath. Too many had given up their lives in honor of Ravka's freedom. Too many sacrifices for you all to be hiding in the tunnels like scared cats.

But you had a plan. You just needed to be in the same room as Alina, all of you at once, and you were going to make your way up.

It was only a matter of time before you were going to see him again.

*+*+*+*+*+*

It turned out that you were right. It was a matter of time indeed before you saw Nikolai again.

As always, he couldn't help but make a grand entrance while praising his good looks. For once, your eyes didn't roll in mock annoyance. The joy of seeing him again, safe and sound while also saving your asses, prevailed.

And the moment his eyes met yours? Priceless.

Despite being in the middle of running away and fighting the first army's soldiers, you felt like there was only the two of you. Nothing mattered besides Nikolai, his stupid smirk that shone brighter than all the stars combined.

It turned out that that moment came with a price indeed. Your distraction paved the way for an almost fatal mistake.

Too lost in Nikolai's eyes and restraining yourself from throwing yourself at him, you didn't notice the soldier sneaking up behind him. Or well, you didn't until it was too late.

The movement caught your eyes, but the bastard had his pistol already drawn. You had the presence of the spirit of pushing Nikolai out of the way before a shot was fired.

Focusing on the bullet you tried all your might to melt it, but you knew it was a desperate attempt since you had noticed it too late. Trying and losing was better than not trying at all so trying you did.

However, what turned out to be life-saving was Nikolai's counterattack. While you exercised the small science, Nikolai quickly drew his own pistol and shoot at the soldier.

Time seemed to slow down as you stared in front of him, hands in the air while Nikolai moved behind you. Right before your brain registered that while you had indeed managed to burn the bullet, it was still coming your way at high speed, another object entered your field vision.

At that moment you didn't exactly decipher what had happened, you blinked and the bullet was not there anymore. However, your stupor was short-lived as other soldiers were coming your way after hearing the noise.

At that point, Nikolai tugged you away and towards his awaiting ship knowing that the soldiers would surely outnumber you.

It all happened in a blink. One moment you were on the ground hellbent on not dying, and the other you were up in the air.

That, combined with the stress of the last couple of weeks. exhaustion and dehydration put you in a state of shock. Resulting in you staring numbly ahead of you.

Then, when you felt a hand on your face, your brain started working again and your eyes slowly began to focus.

"Are you injured?"

Nikolai was moving your head left and right to check for wounds and after that, he moved down on your neck and vital points. But you weren't hurt.

"It's so typically you to swoop in and save the day in the most dramatic way possible that I shouldn't even be surprised."

Your sarcasm reassured him that you were fine more than the absence of physical wounds. Leaning back on his haunches, he gave you a lazy smirk. "You know me, always read to save damsels in distress."

You almost hated how handsome he looked in that moment but the fact that he basically had saved your life made it really hard for you to get mad at him.

"Not a damsel and not in distress but I appreciated your gesture," you fired back falling naturally into your usual easy banter. "Thank you, Kolya."

"You shouldn't be thanking me. I did it for a whole selfish reason." His features morphed into seriousness which was usually something he left for meetings or that kind of stuff. Seeing it now directed at you, seriously worried you.

"Since when does Nikolai Lanstov shy away from gratefulness and compliments?" You tried to jest but to no avail.

"I'm serious."

"Alright, so why did you do it? You have tons of other Grisha available."

"Because a world without you is not a world I want to live in."

Well, damn. Trust Nikolai to make you completely speechless.

"That must be the shock talking," you murmured still taken back by his words.

"I've almost lost you, y/n, I'm not going to waste any more time avoiding my feelings." Crossing his arms on his chest, Nikolai lightly shook his head. Damn, there was no smirk on his face, no twinkle in his eyes. He must be serious.

"I should be having an epiphany moment since I was the one who almost died," you protested.

"Feel free to declare your undying love for me then."

"Ass. Now I'm tempted not to do it just to prove you wrong," you glared at him but sighed knowing what you needed to do. "But, as much as it pains me, you're right."

Your eyes flickered between yours and the sheer intensity of them gave you enough confidence to bear your heart to him, "I do love you, you know."

"Well, let's be honest, who wouldn't. I'm amazing," with a careless shrug, Nikolai gestured to himself. Which, of course, made you glare at him.

"Joking, I take it back. You're insufferable." Your mock-annoyance did nothing but amuse him to no end. However untruthful they might be, Nikolai played along with your words. While also progressively leaning closer to you.

"Nope, can't do that love. You signed your destiny, you're mine." You would have retired, of course you would have, but the truth is, his lips were more interesting than any witty comeback ever could.

#nikolai lanstov #nikolai lantsov x reader #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov imagine #shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai my love #nikolai lanstov angst

361 notes · View notes

jaeminlore · 3 years

Text

Landslide | Mark Lee

summary: time makes you bolder. even children get older, and i’m getting older too.

words: 7.1k+

category: teacher!mark, single parent!reader, fem!presenting!reader, graham is the sweetest kid, mark is that teacher that lets kids pick earthworms during recess, friends to lovers, mark’s apartment is flooded so now he has to live in domestic bliss with his secret crush oh nooooo

warnings: talk of absent fathers

author note: it’s my birthday tomorrow so i wanted to give u all a present for supporting me for so long!! here’s to you <3 (cross-posted on /honklore)

Mark helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Mark advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Mark grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Mark.

Mark ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Lee forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Mark giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Mark to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Mark actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Mark did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Mark puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Mark checks his text messages.

There’s one from Taeyong: “I’ve already got Haechan on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Mark forgot that Haechan lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Mark’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Mark didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Mark has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Mark right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Mark doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Mark gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Mark is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Mark’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Mark gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Mark pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Mark! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Mark is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Lee! It’s rude to call him Mark!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Mark reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Mark.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Mark and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Mark studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Mark acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Mark clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll text you.”

Mark spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Mark is his teacher.

Mark’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Mark is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Mark glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Mark.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Mark to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Lee?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Mark gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Mark.

“How have you been?”

Mark sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Mark pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Mark. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Mark bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Lee is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Lee? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Mark decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Lee’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are heard before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, and you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Mark’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Mark is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Mark’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Mark teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Mark mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Mark gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Mark himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Mark has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Lee cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Mark around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Mark giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Mark blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Mark knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Mark thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Mark gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Mark tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Lee! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Mark’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Mark gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Mark feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be. Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Mark reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Mark has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Lee?”

Mark grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Mark feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Mark grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Mark, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Mark leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Mark thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Mark takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Mark watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Mark, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Mark reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Mark wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Lee let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Mark trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Mark scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Mark places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Mark’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Mark says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Mark Lee would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Mark grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Mark up by jumping on his chest.

Mark sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Mark, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Mark rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Mark and Graham enter.

Mark likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Mark, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Mark rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Mark insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Mark giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Mark reminds you.

“But Mikey is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Mark’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Mark scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Mark is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Mark blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Mark is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Mark,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Mark opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Haechan comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Mark, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still high despite its blunt sarcasm. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Lee’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Haechan looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Haechan to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Taeyong’s, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Mikey, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re rambling and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Johnny about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Mark tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Mark didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Haechan scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Mark’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Mark, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Haechan in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

You shoot Haechan a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Johnny’s.” Mark says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Haechan says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Mark laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Mark is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in the shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Mark is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Haechan’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Mark didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Mark was alone in a dorm with Taeyong, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Mark even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Lee?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Mark jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Mark says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Mark’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Mark’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Mark scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Mark’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Mark Lee!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Mark’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Mark laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Mark.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Haechan told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Mark stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Mark again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Mark’s voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Mark.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

#Nct fluff #nct fanfiction #Nct angst #Nct scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee angst #mark lee fanfic #mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #destwrites

836 notes · View notes

honklore · 3 years

Text

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

#karl jacobs fluff #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt fluff #pixiecap//

783 notes · View notes

yourmcu · 4 years

Text

Emotional Support Mode

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

in which the reader is the loner, antisocial daughter of Tony Stark and the other Avengers including her father never acknowledge her presence (they thought some sort of interaction made you uncomfortable) so she becomes friends with Friday instead - Tony probs finds out and it’s gonna be all cute n fluffie once he realizes -

Word count: 2,243

a/n: hi just wanted to write fluffy tony :)) also I used they/them for friday’s pronouns

Warnings: angst n fluff, friday’s a bit more advanced (not like they aren’t already but) bc they could almost act like a literal human here.

read it on ao3!

You arrive back at the Avengers facility, shoulders slumped and just tired in general since you have a lot of homework and projects to do from school, most of them due by the end of the week. You also have exams later in the week.

“Hey, Fri,” you huff as you make your way to the elevator.

“Welcome home, Y/N. Where do you want to go?”

Yes, you're very close with the A.I that they started calling you by your first name. “To my room - and uh, will you remind me to read two chapters in my history book after I’m done with all my homework? I also have this project, I just need some measurements later, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

It’s going to be a long night, you sigh heavily just thinking about it. Now you’re probably wondering, ‘you live with the Avengers! Why don’t you ask Tony and Bruce for help? Maybe Steve and Bucky for your History test?’

Yeah, well... you barely talk to any real person you live with. Maybe it’s you, you always thought you're making the team uncomfortable. You don’t even talk to your own father often which is kind of depressing on your part.

You love them, they’re like your extended family, but it just isn’t working out. Maybe they just don’t like you. Up to this day you still wonder why Tony took you in when you were just a baby (you were a mistake from one of his one night stands) - he had the choice not to.

“I’m assuming you zoned out again. You have arrived to your room five minutes ago.” Friday announces.

“Y-yeah sorry,” you shuffle out of the elevator and swiftly head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I also asked if I should inform Mr. Stark that you have arrived home.”

“No, no thanks. He’s busy and... probably wouldn’t care anyway,” You mutter the last part as you pile the books you need on your desk. “Can you put my study playlist on, please?”

----

“What time is it, Friday?”

“7PM. I was about to remind you to take a break.”

You get up from your chair and stretch, halfway through the last of your homework which is a two page essay. “You’re too kind, thanks pal,” when you walk out your room to head to the kitchen and grab a snack, the lounge is empty, kitchen empty,

“The team’s on a mission? I thought they had the whole week off,” you say before gulping down a water bottle.

“I checked the security footage: they left about an hour ago. Captain Rogers was talking about getting dinner.”

You put the bottle down. “Oh,” you try to mask your disappointment. This isn’t your first time being alone, they always left you here when they had a mission of course but... well, it’s not like they want you around them. “I’ll - I’ll just make myself something later, then. Not a big deal. I have to study anyway.”

Another hour later, the Avengers are back. They're all conversing happily as they pile in the lounge. Peter's rambling about upgrades for the Spiderman suit while Tony's typing away in his phone, nodding at everything he says. Everyone else is arguing about the TV channels and talking about the new restaurant they ate at.

Rhodey shifts, looking around. “Why do I feel like we forgot something?”

Natasha looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

“I assure you, I brought Mjolnir with me this time.” Thor butts in.

“No not that, what time does Y/N get home from school?” No one answers. It’s not like any of them know. It's natural that Rhodey would be worried about his goddaughter (even if they rarely talk). He turns his head to his best friend who’s now walking away with Peter, an arm around his shoulder. “Tony, where’s Y/N?”

He doesn’t hear since he has his full attention on his protégé.

“I’ll start making this tomorrow, I guess. I still have to buy materials.” You mumble to yourself, but you hope Friday's listening to everything you say just to make you feel less lonely. You swipe the hologram of the blueprint away and place the thick books in front of you.

“I would like to recommend a suitable study plan.” they state.

You rub your eyes, sighing, “I’m already halfway, I would’ve considered it earlier though.”

“This is only a recommendation, feel free to ignore it.”

You push yourself away from the desk and mutter a “go on,”, fiddling with your pen.

“Asking Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes would give you more details for your History examination, since the pair were originally from that time period. The same goes for Mr. Banner for your Science examination, I believe he has seven Ph.D’s, you may also approach Vision for the same topic. Mr. Stark has all the necessary materials for your project in his lab. Would you like me to-”

If only it were that easy. It should be easy, the thought alone makes you really nervous. “No, I - I appreciate the recommendation, Friday, but - I think I can do this on my own.”

“But you’re tired and it is almost midnight. I would help you myself but you specifically told me not to.”

They’re not wrong. Your eyes are starting to droop and you barely understand anything you're reading. You're also fighting back tears - why is talking to your family so hard?

“I can sense sadness. Would you like me to activate emotional support mode?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds great right about now.”

----

“Crap. Guess we lost track of time again, kid,” Tony wipes his hands with a rag while he looks at the time on his computer. “You better get home. I’ll send May a text for keeping you this late.”

“Okay, thank you Mr. Stark. I’m just gonna use my suit-”

“No. Happy will drive you.”

Peter knew better than to argue and insist so he just nods and smiles sheepishly. A minute later Happy came ‘round to take him home.

Tony turns back around. “Friday, make a new project for me please, I’m adding minor upgrades to the Spiderman suit.”

“Not now, boss.”

Oh. He did not expect that. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N is currently opening up. I would like to give her my full, undivided attention. Please come back after fifteen minutes or so.”

Tony doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that. He never sees her outside her room anymore that he kinda forgot she existed tonight - oh fuck, they didn’t bring her to dinner with them.

“Well,” he exhales. “What is she saying?”

“That would be an invasion of privacy.”

“I’m her father-”

“Are you, sir?” Friday’s clever remark makes him stop abruptly.

It’s pretty clear that he’s been a shit father. Not only does he ignore you all the time but he treats Peter way better than his own flesh and blood. The Avengers on the other hand, they were nice people, but just didn’t understand so they try their best to get out of your way.

You were afraid of rejection, afraid to interact, because you had no idea what everyone thought of you. Did they like you? Did you make them uncomfortable? Did they want you around? What about Tony, did he really want a daughter in his life? Because you noticed he’d be better off with a son, yeah, like Peter goddamn Parker.

Tony sighs, walking out of his lab and heads to the mini bar to grab a drink. He needs to think: there's absolutely nothing wrong about you, he just didn’t do his job right, you thought he didn’t care, you thought nobody did. Even Friday is turning against him, doing a better job of comforting and being there for you.

“God, I’m such an asshole,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. He drinks his last shot and heads to the kitchen. “She still awake?” He calls out.

“She is.” Friday has a bitter tone.

He's hesitant to ask again, feeling really bad for not knowing this simple question - “what’s her favorite beverage?”

----

“How do you feel?”

You sniffle. “Well y’know, better than before. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks, Fri.”

“You’re welcome. Also, Mr. Stark is outside your door.”

“W-what?” You put away your books and straighten up, rubbing your damp eyes. “You’re serious? Okay, uh, let him in?” It's more of a question.

“Alright.”

You turn to face your desk as Tony enters the room, holding two steaming mugs. He sits at the end of your bed, just right next to the chair you're sitting on. “Hi,” he gives you a small smile and hands you a mug.

What’s the occasion?

“What’s this?” You ask quietly before taking the mug from his hands. Tony's being gentle and soft, it's odd but you’re not complaining.

“Green tea with honey. I... I thought I saw you make that stuff once.” He says, not mentioning the fact that Friday told him that.

“Oh, well, yeah,” you take a small sip. He added a bit too much honey but other than that it was good. “I thought you preferred coffee, though,”

Tony shrugs, his eyes glistening when he looks at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

“Did - did you want something, Dad?” You always found yourself awkward, couldn’t even make conversation with someone for long, always wanted to get straight to the point so it could be over with.

He looks like he wants to say something but he just averts his gaze to you, his hands, the floor, then suddenly he leans in and hugs you. Your feel your heart swell and body warm up, it’s a new sensation for you after all, you rarely get hugs from people. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I’m such a bad dad, I don’t deserve you. I even forgot you when we went out to dinner.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I had loads of stuff to do earlier anyway, so, but yeah I was just - I just overreact, I’m sensitive. I don’t blame you and the others for not liking me, I know there’s nothing like-able about me, I’m not like Peter-” You ramble, tears now leaving your eyes again.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” Tony says as he pulls you closer to him, head resting against his chest while he rubs your back comfortably. “Y/N Stark, you are smart, brilliant - I was just an ass for not acknowledging that.”

“I know you’re just saying that to-”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he now places his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Tell me who built their first engine when they were eight?”

You blush, “Dad-”

“No, come on, I wanna hear it.”

“I did.”

“Yes you did. And who made a completely functioning robot at their middle school science fair that blew all the teacher’s minds?”

You’re trying to hide a smile, recalling the memory, “I did.”

“And who,” Tony gets up and walks to the bulky looking thing that you covered with a sheet, pulling it off, “is currently building a computer from scratch?”

“Dad! That’s still a work in progress,” he messily places the sheet back and chuckles.

“My point is, you’re a clever and talented girl, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down. And you don’t have to be shy around your family, those idiots have been dying to get to know you but since you don’t talk much... they don’t want to force it. We love you,” he says. “I hope you forgive me ‘cause I really wanna make it up to you. I’m not calling Peter in for a few weeks.” Tony sits down beside you again.

You couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. “You don’t have to, if you need him for something then-”

“-then you could help me instead, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m really sorry for being such a lonely freak,” you yawn, getting back into Tony’s open arms. “I love you.”

Tony tucks you in and lies down beside you, “I love you tons, kiddo.”

You snuggle into his chest, feeling his steady breathing while he rests his chin above your head.

----

It's morning. The Avengers are gathered at your open bedroom door.

“Are you getting all of this, Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Steve turn that shuttering sound down!” Natasha hisses at the super soldier who's doing his task, taking pictures.

Steve almost drops the phone and has Bruce fix the volume for him.

They’re all watching you and Tony cuddle together, still fast asleep.

“Do we have to stay here until they wake up?”

“Unless you have a great way of waking them up, yes. Now shut up.”

“If you think about it we definitely look creepy right now.” Sam comments.

“It’s their fault for having the door wide open all night!” Clint says.

Tony's actually awake the whole time, listening to them bickering. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of here before I make all of you polish my suits.” With that, the team races down the hall, pushing each other to get away first like literal children.

2K notes · View notes

aeempress · 3 years

Text

Apritello Express Evidences, part 3

Apritello, my dear friends, is really all hints, devil in details, little pieces that, in the end, become a huge picture.

I can't say that there are a lot of episodes with April and Donnie spending quality time together, no. But all episodes are important to understand how their relationship are involving, growing. If you have sharp eyes and think about all of this even a little bit, you will be surprised how gracefully their relationship changes and grows, how characters evolve.

Dear passengers, we're about to start. Mind the gap!

Episodes “The Gumbus” and “Mrs. Cuddles”.

I think it would be appropriate to analyze these episodes in bunch, because they have common situations of spooky supernatural stuff and reactions of characters to this.

When you watch these two eps in raw, it's easy to see how alike are reactions of Donnie and April in some scary, really odd situations.

Adrenaline ‘n’ reclessness

April is really into all spooky things in “The Gumbus”, she's not afraid of some creepy stuff and she's really brave girl who easily copes with stressful and life-threatening situations.

Donnie is incredibly calm and collected when alive doll talked to him.

But still, April was frightened about plush rabbit because it was really unexpected for girl, she wasn’t ready to realize that plush doll that she’d worked with is alive fear-eating monster who will hurt and intimidate to get their precious screams. But point remains: Donnie and April share crazy fearlessness, which turns into an adrenaline addiction.

And here I am, a science guy, who tell you: adrenaline is a big deal for our body. This hormone can even provoke an onset of romantic feelings. Chemistry and anatomy come to fill the gaps: when a person is afraid, their pulse quickens, a cocktail of hormones is releasing into the blood, which sharpen the senses and reflexes. It will create a strong emotional bound, that's important for maintaining romantic kind of feelings. The more impressions there are (even negative ones), the higher the chance that person will remember his|her partner, and want to see them again – the body gets hooked on adrenaline, like a drug.

That’s why D&A have so strong, unshakeable boundaries. They are so alike: their attitude to scary things, the way Donnie and April cope with them, the adrenaline addiction their share. They even express feelings the same way.

And one tiny detail: April and Donnie start the teasing Raph for his fear of mrs. Cuddles. So they become the first victims of plushie.

Friendly reminder: they were the 1st victims, and what’s happened with them we don’t know, because it wasn’t shown due to not ruin the atmosphere of suspense.

But we have a beautiful quote of mrs. Cuddles and this precious shot which explain everything

Raph: Where’s Donnie?

Cuddles: In a happy place where he’ll scream and I can grow forever and now you’re gonna join him!

In a happy place, huh? Tied up with April in Splinter’s bedroom, a really happy place. Hold a sec, are they -

And after that Donnie’s responding is killing me.

Donnie:[OS] I'm afraid of togetherness.

Yep. All normal here. We should continue.

"Operation Normal" even though doesn't show a lot of interactions between April and Donnie, however continues the general outline highlighting the topics that were mentioned earlier in the show.

Firstly, April's relationship with her classmates. We're able to see how poor her scholar life is in "Hypno Part Deux" and "The Purple Jacket". She has no "normal", human friends except some strange remora guy, more like acquaintance than friend, though. But still, having "be normal" kick she's fine with Donnie's weirdness ( Mikey is always beyond all normal comprehension, Raph goes weird while he's alone, without brothers, and his fear of miss Cuddles is no big deal to fam, Leo didn't show any weird stuff during the series, like, reeeeal weird, m'kay?).

Conversation between April and Donnie at pizza spot

Really interesting and smooth scene. We’ve got Donatello who stares at April while he’s waiting his favourite pizza, no big deal.

And his legs.

If a person is interested in you, during a conversation, they will put their right foot forward (a left-handed person is more likely to put their left foot forward) in order to close the distance between you. - Check.

being in company, peson will point the sock at the most pleasant interlocutor for them. - check.

April’s legs are ponted at Donnie. Checkmate.

Yeah, April is hanging out with Donatello and Leonardo, but the main focus of hers is on Donnie.

All these scene makes me think that Donnie, knowing about how badly sometimes April wants to be normal, is up to help her overcome this. Fight fire with fire: fill up her life with all of this weird, mystic stuff so it will be normal with time. Regular people go to pizza spot to spend some quality time together, so we have pizza restaraunt here, in Hidden City. Make all odd normal, and problem will solved.

Donnie really tries his best, look at his face. Dee’s fine with all this bizzare things what happens to April, he’s fine with her. But still he fails, because April’s concept of normalcy differs drom Donnie’s.

And again, for Donnie it’s not a problem at all. He’s always was at the opposite side of normalcy and it doesn’t matter for him if April is in the same boat with him. Cause, as I said, Don’s fine with that.

Second, how much Donnie knows about April.

- Scoff! Are you really still on this whole "I want things to be normal" kick?

- Yes, what big city girl doesn't have a kayak and has hazmat suit?

Interesting detail here: this line launches Donnie’s flashback (because the first scene is from “Purple Jacket”, it’s Dee’s episode, obviously). And Don, as far as I can tell, has in his flashback moments with April when she did something reaaally impressive. His face is way more louder than any words.

- Short answer: no. Long answer: nnooooooooo.

- Oh, no! You know how April freaks out around the cosplay wizards!

These tiny lines are containing a lot of background, stories, intimate conversations that April and Donnie share. This show always does the same trick: we never see a direct action, we are only able to see a result or statement of the result. But series do a great work telling us with such small and imperceptible gestures that their bonding at this point is mutual. Not only D tells April about his inventions, family and fam's issues he has and even his falls, mistakes and failures. April does the same thing, sharing with Donatello one of the most important things to her. Problem that really bothers her.

C'mon, he'd even memorized Sunita's name, though April messed up with this situation a bit. It seems Donnie memorizes facts about April - he remembered the wi-fi password from old April's work as we can see in "The Longest fight" (he could hack it easily, he's a genius, why he's been keeping in mind some piece information that useless for a year? It doesn't make any sense)

Oh, and that. Just a coincidence, I guess?

Just alike suits, no big deal. Plus, the whole family has it (and something tells me that guys have suits at the behest of Don, so probably April does). But Donnie and April has a lot in common like emotional expressions, reaction about some kind situations, fight style and even tastes in fashion.

Also, it seems like Donnie's been watching April for sometimes.

While Leo was hiding in trash can, to not catch anyone's eye rather than April. He definitely couldn't know who was passing by, but there was Donnie to observe from above. That's why he was hanging down the stairs when Leo spoke to April.

It’s not the first time Donnie dress up as old lady to monitor April’s day.

Leo: Why do you always make us dress up as old ladies? Donnie: №1: confort, №2: to blend in as we monitor April’s day for max normalcy.

3. Even when D took away this cosplay wizard, he's still keeping eye on her.

Oh no, you don’t. Grandmas here!

Donatello changes his foe to save April exactly. He fought all evening with Brutus, but when April slightly gets in danger, Donnie just attacked anyone who has intention to hurt her and ruin her evening.

Is that a flying turtle in an old purple dress?

April, who all evening was trying to look “normal”, hiding her real friends because they are mutant turtles and pretending that nothing unusual happens here, finally gives up when Sunita mentioned Donnie. Even though new April’s friend has asked her before about Leo.

His eyes.

Donnie is really impressed but what he saw, and the reason - April O'Neil.

The episode "Warren & Hypno, sitting in a Tree" is another incredible piece of whole picture.

Turtle tank is decorated for April birthday in purplish scheme, definetely Donatello's work.

Dee's nonverbal speech.

• He seems more interested and softer than usual looking at April. It's easy to say comparing him with brothers. Mikey is in anticipation of fun mode, Leo relaxed and show his "whatever it will be fun" attitude, Raph is listening carefully, but still, Donnie could just turn his head in April's vouce direction, not a whole body.

• Warren felt Don's gaze while talked with April, so worm made the remark. Pay attention to the construction of the frame of neighboring scenes. The second frame is April's perspective. And Don is looking namely at her.

Indignation. Disappointment. Spark, storm, madness (i love this russian meme, sorry not sorry)

• Donnie seems sincerely sorry for this situation with April's b-day. And again, this soft gaze and "Raph, shut the shell up, your nonsense is upsetting her"-eyes.

• Donatello is kind of person, who’s avoiding a proper confrontation, so he rarely stands up for someone. He were remaining silent, when Raphael tried to cheer April in the most radiculous way, but when Hypno tried to play with April’s feelings, Donnie blew it.

He’s obviously in wrath as D emote that expressively. Yeah, he had much on his plate at April’s birthday, but it’s her b-day on the line, not his pride.

Warren used April, playing with her fan feelings. Her idol betrayed her, she was locked up in a cage, and now we have Hypno who wants to use her again by pitting and pushing for her compassion, because, it’s obvious - boys would do everything she said.

And Donnie tries to keep Hypno away from her, protect her feelings from another betrayal.

As he’s already stated - “For you, anything”.

The show always tells us: if you wanna trigger Don, bring April in.

Hypno tried to turn this thing around, Leo did the same in “Al be back”.

If Hypno-tamus did that accidentally as he found out that April O’ Neil is a birthday girl, so her wishes that day were laws, Leo did it on purpuse.

Leo is good at manupulating and pulling some strings, plus he knows his twin as back of his hand. That’s why Leo mentioned April in the end as she was always the most powerful argument, the reason and motive for Donnie. At second he’s even panicked, but remained calm. He almost blew up his coolheaded image because of one certain girl in yellow.

• Donnie is really happy to present Warren's arm to April. He even holds it like a rare, priceless treasure. D is really proud of himself right now: he saved the day, after all. The emotional reaction of hers is exactly what Donnie wants to get. And then, his final pose, while April is on 9th cloud from happiness - that's really territorial gesture, D claims his supremacy and confidence, telling "See? That's my happy birthday girl".

Leapfrog with a composition

Donnie and April are more and more eager to be together in the frame. Composition’s boners, m’kay.

Special ride for April

Yeah, Donnie used to offer his battleshell to give April a special ride. It even has a seat and handlebars for her comfort. She can control the flight as well as Donatello, they are like co-pilots. But he never carried her on his back before.

Usually, April is carried by Raphael, on his neck/shoulder, and she’s fine with it. Raph is strong enough to carry her without any difficulties or slowing down.

It’s not Donnie’s weak to carry her - no, he strong enough to carry his battleshell with a lot stuff in it everyday, Don can carry Splints on his shoulder without any apparent difficulty. He strong enough to hold the weight of his battleshell+April. Oh, c’mon, D assembled the Turtle tank only by himself and this for sure requires a lot of physical strength in order to engage in auto mechanics. Try lifting the wheel with tyre, and you'll see what I mean. Of course, there is a jack, but it will not solve all the problems. Don could use hydraulics and Archimedes ' laws, but I'm sure he did most of it with his own hands. Lifting and carrying, all by himself.

Not the strengh what’s matter but another point.

The sequence where Donnie carries April on his back doesn’t last long, it’s pretty easy to miss, while Raph openly do that with April on him.

Plus April’s gaze: she’s staring right at us with her “ninja-eyes” as if they were caught in the middle of something. The duration and length of the sequence, the way it is made all of this arouse certain thoughts.

It’s like nobody should see this. Too personal. To be more specific - too close and intimate?

Donnie stated a few times that he’s not into togetherness, tactile interaction and phisical side of contacts. Although he's fine with his brothers, don't forget that April is a girl. Even if she feels like part of family, she’s not his relative. She’s not his sister.

Some people tend to avoid physical contact with the objects of their interest. And this behaviour fits in Don’s character. He’s anxious type with a lot of psychological and emotional issues. Yeah, he tries to cover it up, built a shell to protect himself, behave as confident extravert but he’s nothing like that. Sometimes D tends to distance himself from his family, to hide in his shell, and we've seen that throughout the show.

Don hangs by his phone quite often, he addicted to this as his comfort zone, his peaceful cave, where everything is much easier,

Don pretends he’s so busy with his science stuff to ward off his brothers (ep. Mind Meld),

Don went to the lab to work on his projects, while he could hang out with April and the brothers (ep. Mrs. Cuddles). And he left for what? To work on self-cleaning tooth pick, or the titan bust of himself? It’s seems like lame excuse to be alone. He’s definetely an intovert, who sometimes needs some space and time with himself.

All his cocky behaviour is showing off to hide insecure, diffident and vulnerable creature, softshell purple turtle. Yeah, Donnie has confidence in what he’s great in: tech, science stuff, where he’s only one is capable of. But if someone steps on his domain or doubts his authority, his true colours exposed.

And, once again, “Mind meld” is a great evidence of that. Would callous, unsumpathetic guy without heart have a wall with pictures of his fellows? I’m afraid not. Donnie has a soft, caring heart.

There’s an alley of his the dearest moments, because photos - are always memory, precious moments we want to keep.

1 - from “Minotaur Maze”. Don loves good pizza, loves his brothers, and they have a little adventure together. Yeah, this photo isn’t on champ wall, but still.

2 - from “Mascot melee”. Important day for bros as they show themselves to people at daylight to rescue Raph and their operation to buy a new robe for his father. It’s their joint brothers dance, and D is loving to dance, remember? Definetely special occasion.

3 - from “Mascot melee”. Splints was really glad to receive a gift from boys. And Donatello, as we know, is always eager to achive for pop’s approval. This for sure must be in his precious moments collection.

5, 7 - from “Donnie’s gifts”. He even keeps a dorky photo, which Raph uses as profile pic at Donnie’s number.

8, 9 - “Down with the sickness”. It was funny to survive all the 7 stages to achive what boys wanted. They failed, but still.

10 - from “Al be back”. Who knows that Splints is so good at singing?

4, 6 - from “The Fast and the Furriest”. Strange choice, cuz, you know, photos ten seconds before his collision with April bat?

And yeah, he HAS April’s photo here. And at this pic it’s April, and April alone,without his brothers.

Don’s a real softie, see?

And avoiding physical contact is a way to protect Donnie’s already shattered self-esteem. To not cause any doubts in front of girl which he’s interested in. That’s possible reason why we did not receive any heartwarming hugs in “The Purple Jacket”.

But Donnie carries April, because it’s her birthday. On the one hand, the girl claims that her b-day is cursed, and Donnie could, by any chance, do something nice for her, and on the other hand - any request of the bithday girl - is the law, as we could see earlier.

Gift for birthday girl

There is no Donnie in the scene after Draxum throw off Warren's arm. While Raph comfort April about her birthday, Donnie was looking for it to present it to April.

He knows the best what is the most precious gift for her. Warren Stone, her idol, goat of making news; she have been in Stoneheads fanclub for 9 years. Also, it seems that Donnie is the one of turtles, who collected info about this worm.

Also, he stopped immediately when April stepped between them and show no disappointing (remind you about Donnie's sadistic science guy nature). The reason is April.

And another cute detail: their glasses are the same form.

Another episode "Mystic library" has slightly touched D&A interaction. But were talking about Apritello, it's all hints but quality.

When Mayham trapped in the mirror and Raph, Leo and Mikey obviously are not coping, April decides to call Donnie to clear situation up.

Donnie, mister "I ruin everything", she's going to call for help. I repeat this. April calls for help Mr. Science to solve mystic problems with her pet. MYSTIC PET.

And he AGREES.

Turtles dissuade their friend from calling Donatello but after a while, April returns with Donnie, and sees the bathroom in ruins.

I'm gonna clear this moment.

1. April haven’t called Donnie.

2. Some time later she returns with Dee.

3. Our girl is pretty shocked to see her bathroom in ruins, argo she didn't see/hear Raph chose to solve problem with smashing.

It must mean only ine thing: April went for Donnie by herself. We don't know where was he, we don't know what the reason April brought Donnie with her by herself, 'cause we know that if she call Dee, he will definitely get to her immediately.

Something is definetely off.

By the way, April changed Don’s profile pic.Yeah, the first one is very informative since Donnie is a turtle and he’s purple and he has bandana. Seems like April have done it by herself, editing the photo of real turtle. She didn't put a lot of effort into this, this image doesn't show her real attitude towards Don. But second is more personality-tinged. Sleeping Donatello in all his gear - this detail can tell us about only one thing - he was photographed when he fell asleep after his sleepless night(s) working hard at something - is something she can catch or receive by boys (namely speaking, it’s Leo, according to Ben Schwartz stated in an interview, that if Leo had an Instagram account, that 60 to 70% of his photos would be his brothers caught sleeping or slipping on things). And still. April has a dorky and little embarrassing pic of Donatello and this is... Interesting and cute?

This profile pic remind me about ROTTMNT: Sound off! (2nd issue)

The next station is “The Purple Game”.

Another episode in which the interaction of the characters is small in timing, but great in content.

And once again: they have a lot in common. I’d never tired of repeating this thing ‘cause the series do the same trick, showing one thing from different points of view. April and April shares the same taste in games, the same attitude, the same mojo.

But the most important thing here is how D&A interacrions are shown in this episode. Unlike other episodes, the interaction here is indirect, is provided by gaming.

Their customized avatars reflects their personality. I mean, the colour schemes (though Donatello has never shown any interest in yellow, he used it for customization of his persona), the way their avatars looking. Game even refering to Sherlock_Corn as “she”, albeit it’s impossible to refer to her avatar in female pronoun. Because, you know, design and nickname?

And the in-game interaction of the avatars resembles D&A irl relationships. Bootyyyshaker 9000 don’t like togetherness, he’s looking like Donnie’s expectation of himself (cool and tough guy, as D sees himself in his own dreams)

Their dialogue

Actually. Actually, Donnie and April are not able to hear each other as game has no voice chat, but their lines make an perfect dialogue nevertheless.

April:Bootyshaker9000? Donnie?

Donnie:April? You’re the last person I need to destroy to achive rank №1!

April:Ditto!

Both:There can only be one!

Donnie said the cheat combination, so April would know for sure what he is supposed to do, but she has no idea.

So, once again: their sync is incredible.

And can we talk about that?

April’s attack

As it seems, attacks may be customized by players. Bootyyshaker has attack that refers at Donatello main feature - superior intellect.

And this attack isn’t effective, because REAL April O’Neil has a resist towards it. She has known D for years, she knows what he’s capable of, she’s aware of his nerd side. April’s immune to it, so Sherlock_Corn is.

Sherlock_corn has a default attack - kernel cannon. It’s nod to her nickname: kernel, corn, the same book. But her second atteck is something reflecting her personalitiy. Plus, April is aware of Donnie’s “fear” of togetherness. All’s fair in love and war, right?

April took a lot of BS9000 hp by her “friendly hugs”. And, by the way, his sweet reaction for hugs.

So:

The selection of the final opponent. It might be literally anyone, but we wouldn’t be able to see Dee’s obsession in that case. Yeah, he’s already had a demon possesion ™, but it was too easy to him to win. No challenge. No “kill or be killed”, “It’s me or you” mojo. He needed some tough gamer for challenging, to develop his character, push him too far. And April, actually, is an excellent choice to reveal the character of certain purple turtle.To expose his true colours. And April do a great job: they know each other, so battle will be spicy, they are both compepitors, they are so alike, so it would be intersting to watch Donatello vs April. And it will, ‘cause In-game April and In-game Don is somewhat different than them usual.

April is Don’s slayer for sure. She’s good at gaming, her last attack was almost fatal for him. So he had to to cheated on her.

Captain Cuddlecakes. Yes, she know about his afraid of togetherness. And there’s lovey-dovey attack animation with this cuddling and Donatello’s persona behaves like him. And it was SPECIAL RUN, so... I haven’t the foggiest why. Cute detail, I mean.

Just look at it. Isn’t it cute?(at least we got their hugs somewhere... kinda. kinda.)

“Snow Day“, albeit being family episode, shows a lot about D&A relationship through “family war”.

First of all, the same taste in films.

Donnie’s already shown the same attitude to fashion, scary things as Cap O'Neil, April shares the same gamer’s mojo as Donatello, but now? We have Donnie and April that are loving the same movie.

For love of purple supernovas, of all the Jupiter Jim’s movies (and there are more than 60 of them), that's a convinient coincidence, they like the same movie.

It stated in series several times that Dee is fond of Atomic Lass. He had crush on her when he was child, he admires her by all his heart, so it will make sense if films with this character he would be his favourite. It’s logical, isn’t it?

Atomic Lass, even if she is part of JJ-universe, however, isn't in every movie. Leo described "JJ: Pluto vacation IV" and there is no sights of Atomic Lass. Like, at all.

Nevertheless, April’s claimed that “PV-4” is the best movie of the time, and Don agrees.

April:What the whaaaat? Hold up, Skip. “Jupiter Jim Pluto Vacation 4″ is the best JJ movie of all time.

Donnie:Ranked, by us, just now. So it’s basically official, no arguing.

And they do this thing again. Reflecting each other. Facial expressions, intonations, poses and etc. Haven’t I mentiones that? Mirroring is natural way to build communication. People, who communicate enthusiastically, who have sympathy to each other, feelings of certain nature, unconsciously copy each other's poses.

Direct reflection and close contact have a strong effect. This is used between lovers, people with close relationships or interested in each other.

And you can see that during not only episode, but through the whole series.

Poses, gestures, facial expressions they share constantly. Even if they are apart, they are mirroring each other, showing their bound. Because Apritello is not always about sitting close, holding hands and blushing. Apritello is about staying together even if they are not. It’s about solid foundation, about synergy, about chemistry Donnie and April share. And all of these are not always so obvious and clear, evident. But so realistic nevertheless.

And that’s why they splitted off the fam - they are too close and alike.

I stated it before but DonniexApril team is way more effective than Donniexbrothers team. Donatello and April are equal, worth each other. They are comfortable with each other, their teamwork is amazing.

They are always near, close to each other for the entire episode. Stand up for each other, side by side. They have no need to do team-building, because their sincronization is incredible. April works well together with Donnie, their skills compliment each other.

I love that April in a first place look at Donnie to check is everything alright.

And a cherry on top?

This inviting gesture. Donnie just watched all along how his brothers and April try to throw some cold water on this situation (khem, it slipped). But when April call him with this inviting gesture, he’d like to help.

In other words, he was waitng when April requests for his help.

Composition’s boners

Sometimes it happens during the show, but this episode beat hte score at this point. I say only one word: physics. Or, more precisely, the force of attraction. Or, maybe Mayham.

... Anyway.

Fitting in the type

April can play not so nice against her enemies, she got steady hand and meanness, merciless and reclessness. She’s passionate and kinda badass, sassy - in a positive way, she’s baddest girl who can kick your butt if you mess with her, and she really good at this.

She has a fire, and Donnie likes that. Dee never stated that directly but miss O’Neil impressed him so many times and in different way so it’s kinda pretty obvious.

Just look how Donatello reacted the way April took Raph down a peg. Her actions are elegant, relaxed but really sly. She almost dare Raph to put his flag on top only to bring him down to Earth in really painful way. She destroyed Bros’ team so easily just by waiting a bit and by calling Mayham.

She’s definetely got some pepper.

Pretty cute but baddest, don’t you think?

And Donnie was impressed for sure, he admitted it - “That is fun for me”. He don’t even stand a chance, c’mon: she’s smarass and elegant, she can be mean and cute at the same time.

Even though that’s it for season 1 analysis (the last series is more appropriate to review as part of 2nd season, plus it was a reaally big post, I need some time)

You can refresh this whole situation in the car 1 and the car 2 or follow the hashtag #apritello express as you please. It’s a pleasure of mine, keep in touch :)

87 notes · View notes

derinthescarletpescatarian · 3 years

Note

What happened w the rationalist community, if you’re ok talking about it?

LONG REPLY TIME.

In my Wild Youth (tm) I was hardcore in the rationalist/skeptic/humanist community. You know, the New Atheist types (the vast majority of the community didn’t call themselves New Atheists, that was mostly American Dawkins fans, but we were those kinds of people, just less arrogant-PR about it). For people who don’t know, the core philosophy of this subculture basically comes down to: - humans are mostly good people, or try to be good people, and we should act in ways that are good for humanity, the environment, etc. - people with better or more accurate information about the world are capable of making better decisions - it is therefore vitally important that we view the world as accurately as possible. Truth is inherently important and valuable. We should do everything we can to make sure that our beliefs about the world are as accurate as possible. - your mind will lie to you. Cognitive biases have their social and evolutionary uses, but they result in bigotry and bad information. We should do everything we can to identify and compensate for these, and think as rationally as a human is capable of. - while it’s not perfect, science is the most effective tool we have for determining what is most likely to be true. Rationalism is therefore massively pro-science and pro-science education. (This isn’t a blind trust; most hardcore rationalists are scientists and fully aware of the limitations of the messy reality of how science is funded and published and the biases that introduces. These are taken into account. The other hardcore rationalists tend to be magicians/illusionists.)

All of this is perfectly fine and a hill I’m still perfectly willing to die on.

When you get a bunch of people together who are sincerely seeking truth and want the world to be a better place, there are some fairly obvious groups that they’re going to tangle with. Before my time, when we were just called skeptics, the main targets had been psychics and life-after-death spirit-communing con artists (this is where our magicians came from, the philosophical descendants of Houdini, one of the earliest voices in the movement, and later James Randi). But the big proponents of harm in my time were the healing crystals/essential oils/faith healing people, and the ‘Creation should be taught instead of evolution’ creationists. We spent a lot of time trying to stop people from selling oils that they said could cure cancer, and fighting against science education being replaced with religious belief inserted in science classes. (I spent a lot of my teenage years debating creationists on the internet. I can summarise this experience as a frustrating waste of time on both sides of the debate. Neither side was going to accomplish anything in these discussions.)

This is all perfectly fine. I won’t pretend I’m completely happy with everyone’s actions; it’s the internet, so of course there were subgroups doing things like mass trolling conservative religion forums and stuff, which had no purpose except to piss off people we happened not to like, but you get that. The problem with this is that it’s easy. People can believe what they want, but if you’re coming into a rational debate, every pro-Creation, anti-evolution argument is complete and utter bullshit, mostly demonstrating nothing beyond the fact that the creationist debater a) doesn’t understand the most fundamental things about biology or b) does understand and is willingly misleading the audience. Every pro healing crystal, pro astrology or pro telepathy argument is fatuous nonsense. Twelve-year-olds could walk into these discussions and completely shred every argument put forth by big-name “creation scientists” in minutes -- I know, I watched it happen regularly. I was on our conservative creationist Christian-owned community TV station for awhile doing a little ‘creation vs evolution!’ debate against the wealthy station owner’s son to fill air time, and I’d see him do a couple of hours of research for anti-evolution arguments every time we filmed, and it always pissed him off that I’d shred anything he said immediately, having done no research whatsoever, because even to me, a child, the giant drive-a-bus-through-this holes in his arguments were obvious. (Also, they were old hash; I’d read all the books by his idols before and checked the reasoning myself long before.)

Fresh voices in the community came from two main sources -- people who’d been pro-people and pro-reason/science for years finding others like them, and ex-creationists and magic healer victims who’d eventually found the holes in what they’d been taught. This second group, for obvious reasons, tended to be the most passionately pro-reason and pro-science people, and discussing different experiences in a place where people could feel safe being critical and actively celebrate doubt was great. But, inevitably, we got lazy.

A lot of the ‘laziness’ was perfectly reasonable and practical. Time and attention is always limited, and when you’ve dealt with six claims of “the eye is too complex to have evolved!” and explained the flaws in the irreducible complexity argument four times that fortnight, when someone walks in with “blood groups couldn’t possibly have evolved, therefore the earth must be 6,000 years old”, you just don’t fucking bother, and you shouldn’t fucking bother, there’s no value in that discussion.

That’s not the kind of laziness I’m talking about. I’m talking about the part where we got so used to ‘that sounds so fucking stupid’ leading directly being able to tear an argument to pieces,that it became normal to assume that anything that sounds stupid on the surface MUST be obviously wrong. Where ‘this is weird, let’s examine it and check for flaws’ became ‘that person disagrees with my preconceived notions, let’s double down and explain why they’re wrong, because I’m already assuming that they’re wrong’. At some point, “we want to be as rational and accurate as we can be, we call ourselves rationalist and work towards that” became “we’re rationalists, so we’re more accurate and rational than average and probably right”.

You might recognise that as in fact being *the exact opposite of the proported philosophy*. There were always some overenthusiastic idiots in any group, but watching it slowly become normal for rationalising to replace active rationalism and for the names of cognitive biases to be thrown around as gotcha buzzwords rather than things people were seriously considering in their own arguments was... concerning. (There were a lot of very smart people in the community, which unfortunately made it far more vulnerable to this particular kind of thing. Smarter people are better at fooling themselves; a person good at reason is also good at rationalising, and you can’t tell the difference between these things when you’re the one doing them.)

In practical terms, this doesn’t matter that much when you’re playing in the easy leagues of explaining to someone that the overpriced eucalyptus oil they bought from an MLM won’t protect them against chicken pox. The person who’s gotten lazy is shit at being a rationalist, but your reasoning skills don’t actually need to be all that impressive for this. You know what they do need to be impressive for? For when somebody says, “women are taken less seriously than men in science and biased against in hiring, payment and promotion”, and this hypothetical you, a male scientist who’s never noticed this and already knows that his profession is full of smart and reasonable people who wouldn’t do something stupid like that, thinks “that is fucking stupid” and automatically, without thinking about it, puts their energy into shouting down and dismissing alternate evidence. Or when somebody points out islamophobia in the community, or passive racism, or... you get the picture. Social issues can (and should) be examined and interrogated using rational philosophies, but it’s so much harder to do that than laugh at creationists who are sending you abusive messages about going to hell. And given the particular hot-button issues in the community, most of the people there were interested in biology, chemistry or physics and simply had no idea how to *do* social sciences, treating the parts that were familiar from their own specialities as valid and the rest as irrational nonsense. And now, you have prominent rationalists panicking about Sharia law, sneering at the made-up problems of feminism, and generally making fools of themselves... because they got lazy.

Because, like how it’s hard to be a liberal (American definition) but easy to be a conservative in a gay hat, it’s hard to be a rationalist, but easy to be an arsehole with a big vocabulary. And that’s why I can’t gush about how great Richard Dawkins’ early science books are without somebody bringing up his bullshit twitter opinions.

79 notes · View notes